Once upon a time, there was a girl…let’s call her Mandy1.

Mandy loved Jesus very much and also loved her friends and family. Every day Most days Sometimes, Mandy would try to sit down to pray to Jesus about her friends and family, but she’d become completely overwhelmed. In fact, you could say that Mandy’s default setting was overwhelm2.

She’d be overwhelmed with all the people and all their needs. Where does she even begin praying for them?

• With her kids–protection, guidance, wisdom, school, friendships, relationship with the Lord?

• With her husband–marriage, work, health, heart, fatherhood?

• With her extended family–aging parents, siblings and their families, aunts, uncles, cousins?

• Or her friends and their families and all their needs?

• Her church?

• THE Church?

• The lost?

• World leaders?

• Global injustice and conflicts, world hunger, human trafficking, scarcity of clean water, climate change, and environmental degradation?

• The incessant stream of crap flooding her newsfeed on any given day?

By this point, Mandy was usually so overwhelmed by all the things she should be praying for that she needed prayer to remember what to pray for.

Mandy struggled to remember specific friends who had asked for specific prayer, even though she assured them that she’d pray and had every intention to do so. Sometimes, weeks later, those same friends would text her to thank her for praying.

And Mandy would suddenly remember that she forgot.

Then she’d feel tremendous guilt for not actually praying. Then she’d struggle to respond authentically to the text. (You’re welcome? Praise God that He got you through that crisis despite the fact that I never actually prayed for you? I totally stink as a friend and don’t deserve you…please forgive me and find yourself better friends?)

Mostly, when Mandy sat down to pray, she felt overwhelmed with life. She barely had enough time to eat and shower and get to work most days, let alone luxuriate in “quiet time.” So prayer time often felt like this weird combo of rushed and stressful and indulgent. This, coupled with the distractions of her phone notifications and her never-ending family responsibilities, meant that a dedicated prayer time was rare.

Prayer became another unchecked item on her to-do list. Just another thing she tried to multitask into her already overwhelming life–on the go, here and there, whenever she remembered…if she remembered.

If she were totally honest, prayer time for Sandy, I mean Mandy (!), was little more than a source of ongoing guilt and shame.

The end.

Just kidding.

It’s not the end of Mandy’s story! And it’s not the end of yours either.

For many of us, prayer is difficult. Like Mandy, we believe in the power of prayer but struggle to incorporate a meaningful prayer routine into our lives. We have the best of intentions, but when people ask us to pray, we forget. When we sit down to pray, our minds wander and we can’t stay focused. With so many urgent needs thrust at us daily, we become overwhelmed and paralyzed.

This used to be me, too. But gradually over the last 10 years or so, I’ve developed a prayer rhythm – a rhythm of abiding, if you will – that works really well for me. Maybe it will work for you, too. Or maybe it will inspire you to create something similar that works better for you.

Inside the cover of my beloved journal, I keep a list, by category and day. So by the end of each week, I’ve prayed for everyone I care about.

I use my journal because, other than my Bible, my journal is the one thing that is a non-negotiable companion to my prayer time. If you don’t journal, you could keep this list somewhere you’ll see it every time you sit to spend time with Jesus–maybe tucked inside your Bible? Or on the table next to your favorite prayer chair? Do what works for you, obvi.

Each day, I focus on specific people or categories of people (including myself) and the needs associated with them. For example…

Monday: I pray for my upcoming week, my schedule, and my plans…I surrender and submit it all to God. I ask Him to bless the work of my hands, guide me where my plans don’t align with His will for me, and help me hold it all loosely–because when do my plans ever play out exactly as I think they will? Never, that’s when.

Tuesday: I pray for my kids–including their partners (for those who are married or dating) and future partners (for those who are not). Of course, I pray for my kids whenever they come to mind – which is constantly. But on Tuesday mornings, I dedicate time to pray deeply for each of them individually.

Wednesday: I pray for Jon and our marriage. I also pray for my best friend and her marriage, including each of her kids by name. Similar to my kids, I pray for Jon and my best friend multiple times a day, whenever I think of them. But on Wednesday, I dedicate time to pray deeply for them by name and need.

Thursday: This is a hodgepodge day, category-wise. I pray for The Church worldwide–that we would be light in the darkness and overcome evil with good. I pray for my local church – including my pastor, his wife, and his kids (I name all of them). I pray over my kids’ schools and/or places of work – that God would grant them favor and success there, and that men and women of God in those places would rise up and speak life into my kids at school and work. I pray blessings over professors, advisors, and employers.

I also pray for our sponsored kids. Our family sponsors seven kids through various organizations (Compassion, World Vision, and Children International) and I keep their names on a sticky note inside my journal and pray for them by name–more on those sticky notes in a bit.

Finally, I pray for my enemies. This is a recent addition that I wrote about here . I have names of a few people listed there. And no, I will not tell you who they are.

Friday: This is the day I pray deeply over all my work: Listeners of The Balanced MomCast and Writing Off Social, readers of my books, people on my email list (that’s you!!!), any current projects I’m working on, guests and hosts of this week’s podcasts, coaching students (I have their names on a sticky note inside my journal), The Abide Sessions (my spiritual formation membership) and the women there, and Mary K. (my business partner/cohost of WOS/best friend) and her husband and kids, by name.

Saturday: So, fun fact–Jon and I come from huge families, spread throughout the U.S. We see some of them only once a year. Many of them, not even that often. Some of them are not walking with the Lord (yet!). So this is the day I pray for all of them. I listed all of our living parents, our siblings and spouses, and all of their children (our nieces and nephews) by name in descending order of age.

There are 75 names there. Every Saturday, I speak their names before God. I linger over the ones where I sense a nudge to do so. I pray for specifics when I know them.

The Sticky Notes: On the opposite page of the inside of my journal, I have some sticky notes. The first is a larger sticky note labeled URGENT/DAILY (because these are both urgent and daily and I’m not great at naming things). Remember the part of Mandy’s story where friends ask her to pray and she forgets? This is where all those live. Currently, on the list are things like a friend whose baby just died, a child recovering from a drowning accident, a friend recovering from cancer treatment, my brother and his wife who suddenly lost my nephew last year, a reader of my work who asked me to pray about a personal need, friends who are relocating to my city and asked me to pray about housing, jobs, and schools.

I like to keep these on sticky notes, first because they often change, and switching out a sticky note looks less cluttered than crossing out names. And second, because when I finish this journal, I can easily transfer the sticky notes to the new journal.

I also have a few smaller sticky notes that I update as needed:

• One with the names of our sponsored kids

• One with the names of our current Writing Off Social coaching students

• One with the names of the women currently enrolled in The Abide Sessions

Speaking of new journals, whenever I start a new one, I get a little overwhelmed with the thought of rewriting all of this inside the cover. So, that first week, I just take it day-by-day. (I write Monday’s focus on Monday while I’m praying, I write Tuesday’s focus on Tuesday while I’m praying, and so on.)

I realize this rhythm doesn’t solve the time-crunch problem. You’ll still need to figure out how to slip away with Jesus in the midst of your full life (I do it first thing before I check any notifications!).

But it does solve the “Where do I even begin?” problem.

And it solves the “Oh my gosh, I forgot to pray for my friend!” problem.

Most importantly, it removes a layer of overwhelm that used to keep me from praying at all. Instead of carrying around a vague sense that I should be praying for everyone and everything all the time, I have a simple rhythm that ensures I’m praying regularly for the people and situations that matter most to me.

Oh, and by the way, God isn’t standing over me with His clipboard grading my coverage of world events, distant family members, and current crises. He’s simply inviting me to come and cast my cares on Him. This little system helps me accept that invitation and keep it all straight. By the end of most weeks, I’ve brought the people I love (and actively dislike!) before the Lord by name–and that’s a gift to both them and me.

And unlike Mandy, I’m no longer mentally composing apology texts to friends I’ve forgotten to pray for. Instead, I’m replying honestly with, “I’ve literally prayed for you every day since you shared this with me.” I cannot begin to tell you how good this feels.

If you have a prayer strategy that works for you, I’d love to hear about it. Drop a note in the comments or hit reply to this email. I’m always fascinated by the simple rhythms of abiding that keep us connected to Jesus.

Have a peaceful week,

Sandy

What a joy it has been to study Philippians 3 with you this month. I’m so grateful for your thoughtful participation, honest reflections, and the many “ah-ha” moments we shared (Praisy was 🔥🔥🔥 during our discussion yesterday!)

I hope your memorization of Philippians 3:7–14 continues to go well as you write out the passage through the end o…

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I hope your memorization of Phil 3:7-14 is going well. Tomorrow, we will gather on Zoom for our second live teaching session, followed by our discussion.

If you have not done so yet, download the notes packet!

Download Notes Packet

Here’s everything you need to join tomorrow’s call:

• Date: Thursday, June 18, 2026

• Time: 2 pm EST/ 1 pm CST/ Noon MT / 11 am PT

• Topic:

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Welcome to our June Abide Sessions.

Tomorrow we will gather on Zoom for our first live teaching.

If you have not done so yet, download the notes packet! You may also want to print it out. I’ve designed it so that you will not need to take notes during the call. I just want you to show up and enjoy.

Download Notes Packet

Here’s everything you need to join tomorrow’s…

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As a paid subscriber to Behind the Balance, you have access to The Abide Sessions!

The Abide Sessions continue year-round, with new studies launching seasonally, Zoom gatherings every other week (while we’re in session), and a private Substack chat where you can ask me questions and interact with other members (totally optional).

We’ve…

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10 Reasons You’ll Love The Abide Sessions

1. You’re in “summer mode.” Summer is a weird season for moms and spiritual depth. You desperately want something that steadies you—something that doesn't get lost in the chaos of kids being home, different rhythms, travel plans, or just the general "untethered" feeling of summer. But you also can't handle one more rigid commitment. The June Abide Sessions are a balance of structure and flexibility.

2. One Month. No Long-term Commitment. June’s session is a stand-alone study. When you join, you’ll gain immediate access to the study packet, the private chat, and the Zoom link for the calls on June 4th and June 18th. If you decide this isn’t your cup of tea, no worries! Simply cancel your subscription at the end of the month (I’ll even remind you to do so! For real!)

3. We’re studying Paul’s most fervent passage about knowing Christ. Philippians 3:7-14 is where Paul gets shockingly blunt and honest: everything he once valued—his credentials, achievements, reputation—he now counts as garbage compared to knowing Jesus. No motivational fluff here! 👀

4. Speaking of “no fluff” —> You’ll receive personal application points designed specifically for overwhelmed women. These aren’t generic takeaways, but thoughtful, challenging questions that speak directly to the life you’re actually living: Are you content to loathe what you’ve given up for Christ? Are you pursuing Christ or just knowledge about Christ? What if your hardship is the path to deeper intimacy with Him?

5. We’ll approach Scripture as both a map and a mirror. We’re not just learning about Philippians—we’re letting it show us who God is (the map) and who we actually are (the mirror). This dual approach moves Bible study from information to transformation.

6. Two live Zoom sessions that feel more like sitting in a living room, not a lecture hall. (June 4 and June 18 at 2 pm EST.) Okay, I realize Zoom is not the same as sitting in my living room. (If you were in my living room, I’d totally serve you a delicious beverage and a homemade treat. 🥧🍹) But during these calls, we’ll walk through the passage line by line, ask some hard questions, have a real discussion, and pray together. And if you can’t make it live, the replays are waiting for you—watch on your own time. (Also, feel free to enjoy a beverage and a treat while you’re on the call!)

7. A private chat community for prayer and connection. Between our Zoom calls, you’ll have access to a private Substack Chat where you can share prayer requests, ask questions, and connect with other women who are on this journey with you. You’re not doing this alone.

8. You’ll actually memorize Scripture (and it won’t feel like homework). Over the course of the month, we’re using a gentle, structured plan to write out our passage in small increments as we commit Philippians 3:7-14 to memory.

9. Teaching notes you can return to again and again. You’re getting a rich participant handout with the full teaching outline, all the key quotes, Scripture references, and reflection questions—so you’re not scrambling to take notes during the session. You can just listen, engage, and return to the material whenever you need it.

10. Dig Deeper Cross-Reference Study Guide. For those of you who want a more in-depth study of this passage with cross references and additional application and reflection questions, I got you, girl! Included in your notes packet is an optional self-paced study guide that’s yours to keep and return to whenever you’re ready.

If this sounds like something you need, now is the time to join! *

Enrollment is May 30-June 4

Click the button below and choose “Monthly.”

Join June's Abide Sessions

*If you are currently a paid subscriber of Behind the Balance at any level, you are already enrolled for June’s session! Check your inbox on June 1 for your study materials and the link to join the Zoom calls. If you are not sure if you’re enrolled, shoot me an email, and I’ll let you know!

Irma was one of the classiest women I’ve ever known. At 80, she carried herself with confidence and grace. She was tenacious, resilient, and hilarious. She served Jesus her whole life alongside her equally spunky husband, Arvin.

I’m not sure why, but Irma took a particular liking to me. She sought me out after church to hug me and encourage me. She often took my face into her hands when she spoke to me. She invited me to her home, where she served me homemade sauerkraut and freshly baked bread slathered with butter. At lunch, she leaned across the table and said, “Young people don’t eat bread any longer…you need to eat bread. It’s good for you.”

(I still eat bread, Irma!)

In her home, she told me stories about serving the Lord and loving her husband and building the kingdom of God. She oozed wisdom and generosity. When she discovered I was presenting a book proposal to publishers, she commissioned her son, a successful published author, to write my foreword.

She led me to the piano, played old hymns, and invited me to sing with her. Standing next to her piano, feeling equal parts awkward and delighted, I decided that I wanted to be just like Irma.

At that point in my life, I had 3 kids at home, ages 13, 10, and 5. My oldest daughter and I were both in active treatment with separate therapists for clinical depression. I was on meds. My middle child was struggling through school with yet-to-be diagnosed ADHD and Asperger’s. My husband was working 90 million hours a week in a demanding career. My 5-year-old was still home with me all day. I had no margin in my life. I could barely stay afloat.

And so I repeatedly delayed and declined Irma’s future invitations to spend time with her. I rarely regret setting a boundary around my time—boundaries are necessary when you’re an overwhelmed mama. But I sincerely regret not making time to spend with Irma.

After a few years, Irma and Arvin moved away to be closer to their son. And I lost touch with Irma. A few years ago, I Googled her name and found her obituary. She passed away on Valentine’s Day, 2020, at the age of 91. Arvin passed away a few months later.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want the rest of my life to look like—more specifically, who I want to be. In those moments, my mind often drifts back to Irma.

I want to be like Irma.

I want to be a spunky, classy, hilarious 80-year-old. I want to still be crazy about my husband. I want to make homemade sauerkraut and fresh-baked bread and feed it to women who are afraid of carbs.

I want to take young, frazzled moms under my wing, invite them into my home, and speak life into them. I want to be madly in love with Jesus, eagerly awaiting my home-going.

These things don’t happen accidentally. If I want to be a woman like Irma at 80, then I need to incorporate rhythms, routines, and spiritual disciplines into my life now, at 57.

One of the ways I’m practicing this — and inviting other women into it — is through The Abide Sessions.

The Abide Sessions is a premium spiritual formation membership for women who are tired of spiritual to-do lists that leave them more anxious than anchored. Women who are ready to build a steadier, more rooted life with Christ. Women who, like me, want to become someone like Irma.

In June, I’m leading a small group of women through a slow, line-by-line study of Philippians 3:7-14 — one of the most searingly honest passages Paul ever wrote about what it actually means to pursue Christ above everything else.

Here’s what’s included:

Two live Zoom gatherings (June 4 and June 18 at 2 pm EST) for in-depth teaching, unhurried discussion, and prayer together. Can’t make it live? The replay will be waiting for you.

A rich notes packet with detailed teaching notes, journal prompts, reflection questions, and an optional at-home study of related passages — so you can keep going on your own time.

A guided memorization plan to help you carry Philippians 3:7-14 with you all month long. (There’s something that happens when Scripture moves from the page into your heart and mind. It’s worth it, trust me.)

A private Substack Chat for prayer requests, questions, and connection between our Zoom calls — because doing this with other women is really special.

All of it, low pressure. All of it, at your own pace.

The cost for June is $29.

I’ll send the enrollment link next week — and I want to tell you why I’m asking you to wait. If you join too early, Substack’s timing may cut you off from full access to the paid features (the Chat, the links, all of it) before June even ends. I want you to have everything from day one. So sit tight, save your $29, and watch for my email next week with everything you need to sign up.

EDIT: ENROLLMENT IS NOW OPEN

THROUGH JUNE 4!

CLICK THE BUTTON BELOW

AND CHOOSE “MONTHLY” TO ENROLL.

Enroll now

In the meantime, feel free to reply with any questions. I’d love to have you with us.

Love,

Sandy

No matter how far along or how far behind you are, I’d love for you to join us for our LAST session together! We will be discussing Lesson 8: When God Speaks Through Other People and The Conclusion: When God is Silent.

Here’s everything you need to join tomorrow’s call:

• Date: May 7, 2026

• Time: 2 pm - 3 pm EST/ 1 pm - 2 pm CST/ Noon - 1 pm MT / 11…

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I’m walking out of the bathroom after getting ready for church, when I’m greeted by my tiny six-week-old baby, Rebekah, strapped into her car seat. She’s all decked out in her Sunday best. And she’s holding an emerald and diamond tennis bracelet.

Jon peeks his head around the corner and says in his best high-pitched baby voice, “Happy Mother’s Day!”

That bracelet was (and still is) the nicest piece of jewelry I own — a gift to commemorate the weirdest Mother’s Day on record:

My first Mother’s Day after my son Noah died. My first Mother’s Day after my mom died. My first Mother’s Day with my daughter, Rebekah.

Three enormous, impossible things, all at once. Grief and joy sharing the same day, the same body, the same heart. That’s a lot to carry in your Sunday best.

Since then, I’ve celebrated 26 more Mother’s Days, all of them with varying degrees of weirdness. Of course, I’ve enjoyed year after year of sticky hugs and fresh flowers and fancy lunches and crooked hand-written cards on construction paper.

But also sometimes… high or unexpressed expectations on my part, failing to make lunch reservations on someone else’s part, or complicated relationships with my teen or young adult child.

I remember one particular Mother’s Day when, with all the love and best intentions, my husband and three young children encouraged me to “take the day off” and “let everything go” because “you deserve it, Mom!”

So I gladly accepted.

And then later that night, after everyone went to bed, I stood at the sink in my trashed kitchen washing dishes, realizing they’d remembered to encourage me to “let it go” — but had forgotten the part about doing it for me.

(The adage “it will be there tomorrow” has never rung more true.)

Here’s the thing: they loved me. They really did. They just didn’t quite know how to love me well that day. And I didn’t know how to tell them what I needed. So I ended up alone with a pile of dishes and a complicated mix of amusement and disappointment, which, honestly, is a very mother-y feeling.

Perhaps this Mother’s Day is weird for you.

Maybe you have a turbulent relationship with your mom — and this day is a reminder of what you have and what you’ve lost and what you’ve never quite had, all at the same time.

Maybe motherhood is infinitely harder than you ever dreamed it would be, and you’re too exhausted to celebrate it.

Maybe you carry regret about choices you’ve made as a mom, and today feels less like a celebration and more like an audit.

Maybe you compare your reality to Instagram, with all its breakfasts in bed and hand-picked wildflowers and cozy-warm aesthetics — and your own morning looks lonely or chaotic.

Maybe you ache for the opportunity to be a mom in a body that has betrayed you, and this day is a grief you carry quietly, in rooms that don’t know how to hold it.

If this is you, and Mother’s Day is weird for you, I’m so very sorry. If you were here, I’d hug you and nod along without saying a word. Because I get it. I promise I do. And sometimes there are no words, so the kindest thing a person can do is not try to fix it too quickly.

And then, gently, I’d offer a few simple words of encouragement:

It’s okay to feel sad, disappointed, or angry.

Don’t feel guilty for having hard, complicated feelings, and don’t be too quick to dismiss them. Sit with them for a moment without judgment. Your emotional responses are rooted in your lived experience — they make sense. And here’s something worth remembering: sadness and joy, disappointment and gratitude, can absolutely coexist. They are not mutually exclusive. Healing often begins not when the hard feelings go away, but when we finally let ourselves name them.

Talk to the Lord about it.

He loves you so much, Mama. He sees you — and everything that’s complicating this day for you. He is gentle and lowly. Slow to anger and abounding in love. He’s not waiting for you to have it together before He draws close. You can bring Him the dishes-at-midnight version of yourself, the genuine gratitude, the quiet grief. He can hold all of it. You can trust Him with this.

You can define what is meaningful for you on Mother’s Day.

Don’t assume your people know your expectations — most of the time, they genuinely don’t. Take the pressure off your family to “get it right” by telling them plainly how you’d like to spend the day. Or better yet: take the reins and plan it yourself. Make the reservation. Send the link to the gift. Book the spa day. Ask them to take over the chores. There is nothing unromantic about asking clearly for what you need. In fact, it’s one of the kindest things you can do for everyone involved.

This Mother’s Day will be a quiet one for me. Jon will be traveling. Rebekah will be with her mother-in-law. And I’ll be letting Elliana and Elijah know that I plan to secure my spot on the beach with a good book. I’ll invite them to come, for sure — but if they have their own plans, I’ll be okay.

Because here’s what 26 Mother’s Days have slowly taught me: the day doesn’t have to be perfect to be good. It doesn’t have to look like the Instagram version, or even like last year’s version. It can hold grief and joy together. It can be a trashed kitchen at midnight and a tennis bracelet held by a six-week-old. It can be a solo afternoon on the beach with my toes in the sand, choosing rest like it’s a gift I’m giving myself.

I celebrate you, Mama. Not for what you produce or how gracefully you carry it all, but because you show up every day. Even on the hard ones. Even on the weird ones.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Love,

Sandy

If motherhood is infinitely harder than you expected and Mother’s Day is weird for you, you’ll love my book, Mom, You’re Amazing! And Other Things I Want to Tell You. Order it as a gift for yourself…or send it to a mom who needs encouragement.

Here’s everything you need to join tomorrow’s call:

• Date: April 23, 2026

• Time: 2 pm - 3 pm EST/ 1 pm - 2 pm CST/ Noon - 1 pm MT / 11 am - Noon PT

• Link to Join: https://us06web.zoom.us/j/82911642535pwd=cX1TINayCevHpnCy3i9XNLYUaeBTfs.1

  Meeting ID: 829 1164 2535

  Passcode: 704470

• Come prepared to discuss Lesson Seven: The Other Voices

You also have acces…

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Can you believe we only have three calls left in this study???

Listen—no matter where you are right now…
(missed the last call, missed all the calls, haven’t even started the study)

You are welcome to join us this Thursday.

Come share your thoughts…
or keep your camera off and just listen.

Share a prayer request…
or quietly pray for the women in the …

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There are cereal spills, missing shoes, and sibling squabbles. Sometimes? Your morning starts when a tiny, pajama-clad child materializes at the edge of your bed, staring into your soul, until you wake up in terror, questioning if you are in a horror movie or just parenting.

So yes, motherhood has a way of waking you up—sometimes spiritually, sometimes violently at 5:42 a.m. But it was in those very years that my mornings started to evolve.

They evolved considerably with two major life events:

1. Having kids and

2. Making Jesus a priority in life.

The mornings of young motherhood were chaotic, exhausting, and noisy, making quiet time with God something that wasn’t actually quiet at all. Feeding children, wiping little hands, and refereeing living-room squabbles—on never-enough sleep—produced a kind of tired that coffee can’t cure.

If you’ve ever tried to pray while someone is tugging on your sleeve, you know exactly what I mean: motherhood has a way of turning “quiet time” into “anything-but-quiet time.”

At the same time, I’d accidentally fallen into a legalistic view about what mornings with God were supposed to look like. I don’t know where I picked it up, but I bought into the idea that “good” Christians needed to carve out lengthy morning sessions with God—accompanied by tomes of commentaries, flowing prayers, scented candles, and journals with profound insights written in exquisite penmanship. This was even before the advent of Instagram, which doubled down on the impossible aesthetic.

A picture-perfect version of quiet time seemed unrealistic for me. I was just trying to figure out how to pee alone without toddlers breathing like tiny Darth Vaders under the crack of the bathroom door.

However, it was during those years of early motherhood that I learned one of the most freeing lessons of all about mornings: the success of a morning isn’t measured by how much holiness you squeeze out of it before some heavenly timer goes off.

When the girls were still young, I (thankfully) had let go of what a morning was supposed to look like and leaned into rituals that worked for us. I took all that I’d learned about my relationship with mornings up to that point in my life and began to develop a new morning mindset.

Those years taught me that we aren’t impressing God with how pretty our quiet time is. God loves us as much on the mornings when we exegete the entire book of Philippians as he does on the mornings when all we can eke out is a whispered prayer like “Help me, God.”

Motherhood also taught me how to uncomplicate mornings, find peace in the chaos, and help our daughters establish healthy morning rituals that they would carry with them into adulthood. It taught me that the presence of children doesn’t cancel the presence of God.

I didn’t even know about “morning routines” back then, and yet our simple morning practices accidentally became healthy morning habits. They were things we did, out of necessity, to make mornings less rushed, saner, and more God-centered. They were the things that set the tone of the morning, no matter the time of the morning. Our mornings weren’t perfect, but they created predictable expectations and healthy rhythms. It went down like this:

Mornings started the night before, when we made sure clothes and backpacks were ready. We got to bed in plenty of time. We anticipated good things on the other side of the night.

In the morning, as a work-at-home mom, I had the privilege of being present when they woke up, which gave me an opportunity to set the day’s tone. There was breakfast waiting for them, even if it was as simple as yogurt and peanut butter toast.

There were hugs and affirmations, especially if the girls were anticipating a hard day with schoolwork or friends. I wanted to create an atmosphere where mornings embodied the spirit of Christ—kindness, generosity, forgiveness, integrity, and compassion.

Those mornings always, always involved prayer.

From the time our girls were old enough to fold their hands, I helped them adopt a morning prayer ritual. I gave them simple spiral notebooks in which they could draw their prayers with colored pencils. As they grew older, they wrote their prayers with words. Even when the words were spelled incorrectly, they understood that God could translate each one.

On school mornings, prayers were spoken aloud. The girls and I would pray in the car on the way to the bus stop at the end of our long country driveway.

Now I’m in a new era—an empty nest season—which has given me yet another lens through which to see mornings. I’m adjusting to new rhythms and rituals. These days, in the silence of my morning time with God, I am reminded of how sacred and sweet those noisy “quiet times” with young children actually were. I didn’t realize then that some of the best prayers of my life were prayed with one eye open and a child in my lap.

I don’t tell you these things to make you think our family’s mornings were perfect; they weren’t. I tell you these things to show you that your mornings can be more than bearable; they truly can be beautiful.

I get the skepticism about “beautiful mornings” because I am not certain I would have actually called myself a morning person earlier in life. But I can see that I really was one all along.

For clarification, I’m not the kind of morning person who runs half-marathons before breakfast or makes viral reels of a perfectly curated latte.

I’ve been a morning person in the sense that I have woken up most mornings believing in the inherent value of a new day, knowing God’s new mercies unfailingly rise with every dawn. And believe it or not, you are a morning person, too! Because being a morning person isn’t a Clock Thing; it’s a God Thing! It’s not about when you wake up, it’s about how you wake up—believing that God is waiting for you.

If you’re a mother in the thick of it—if your mornings feel messy, loud, interrupted, or exhausting—I want you to know this: God is not waiting for your house to be quiet before He meets you.

He is present in the noise, near in the chaos, and faithful in the ordinary.

Your quiet time may not be quiet. But it can still be sacred.

And the morning you have—the one with kids running down the hallway—can still become a morning where love begins.

Sandy here…Hey! Hi. 🙋‍♀️

This is an excerpt from Jennifer Dukes Lee’s new book, How to Love Your Morning: Faith-Filled Habits to Build a Life of Joy and Purpose One Day at a Time.

When I first read her essay, I was like, “Okay…WOW, I could have written this.”

It felt like looking into a mirror—which is probably why I loved it so much. There’s something really comforting about realizing you’re not the only one whose “quiet time” has included toddlers, interruptions, and unrealistic expectations.

But equally comforting to know that it doesn’t need to stay that way.

I had the opportunity to chat with Jennifer about her previous book, Stuff I’d Only Tell God, and I walked away from that conversation thinking, “I like her. I trust her. And she’s a lot of fun.” (You need to listen to our fun game of “This or That.”)

If you’d like to listen to that interview, you can find it here:

Listen to my interview with Jennifer

And if this excerpt resonated with you even a little, I think you’re going to love this book. I’m only a few chapters in, and it’s fantastic: a Scriptural framework from one of my all-time favorite passages, morning prayers, customizable morning rituals, and morning guides for every stage of life. It’s an incredible resource.

How to Love Your Morning releases today, and you can grab your copy here:

Get the Book!

Jennifer Dukes Lee is a bestselling author, speaker, and morning evangelist from Iowa. She is the author of several books, including How to Love Your Morning, Growing Slow, It’s All Under Control, and Stuff I’d Only Tell God. She wants to live her life in such a way that you can’t help but want more of Jesus. Follow Jennifer on social media @JenniferDukesLee.

This post contains affiliate links, which means if you purchase through this link, I will receive a small commission for sending you there, at no additional cost to you.

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For about three years, I was the Nursery and Preschool Director at my church. I had two small children at the time—babies, really—and worked on a volunteer basis. When I stepped into that role, I knew it was the perfect fit. I loved the work, the duties were in my wheelhouse, and I was honored to serve my newly planted church in that way.

But about two years into it, I started feeling like maybe I should step down.

Trying to work at the church with a toddler and a preschooler in tow was becoming more challenging. When I started, my son was a newborn in a car seat, and my daughter was a toddler who was content to sit quietly and look at board books while I worked.

But as my son started crawling, it became apparent that he’d never be content to sit quietly while I worked—ever, for the rest of his life. No, he’d climb up every chair, table, and shelf. He’d open locked doors and cabinets and toilet seats. He’d eat Legos. He’d wander out of buildings and into parking lots. Keeping him alive was my new full-time job.

Sometimes I’d hire a babysitter to watch my kids so I could work at the church. But since I worked on a volunteer basis and was not drawing a paycheck to cover the cost of childcare, it put a strain on our finances. I have strong personal convictions about remaining loyal to my commitments (thanks to my dad, who worked at the same factory for 40 years to provide for our family), and I also have a strong work ethic (thanks again, dad!). On top of that, I adored my pastor and his wife (still do) and didn’t want to disappoint them or leave them without a director over their children’s department. So, for months, I powered through, even though I was spending the majority of my working hours trying to keep my son from destroying the church.

After almost a year of vacillating between continuing to serve as Nursery and Preschool Director and stepping down, I finally decided to give my notice.

I remember sitting down with my pastors in my kitchen and explaining what I have just described to you. I probably cried a little. I knew this was not easy for them to understand, because most of the church staff—including them—had small children and were also working. I explained all my reasoning and how I had been wrestling with this for a full year.

Then I said, “I really have peace about this.”

My pastor looked at me from across the table and said, “Are you sure it’s God’s peace? Or are you just relieved because you’ve finally made a decision?”

That question exposed something I hadn’t considered. I couldn’t deny that it felt wonderful to finally have the dilemma resolved after struggling with it for so long. There’s nothing wrong with that feeling. But that feeling was not the peace of God.

The voice of God is the voice of peace, for sure. Scripture declares repeatedly that God leads us with His peace. But when God’s peace gets mixed up with our feelings, it can be difficult to discern.

Even Jesus distinguished between His peace and another peace.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” -John 14:27

Over the years, I’ve had people tell me they feel “peace” about situations that are clearly immoral or unwise. I have had friends use “peace” as the reason they had an affair and left their marriage. In college, a guy I wasn’t even dating and didn’t even like told me he had a “peace” about us getting married. (Um. No.) They were feeling something, for sure. But it wasn’t the peace of God.

God’s peace is sometimes hard to detect in us because urgent desires and pleasant experiences can overshadow it—even mimic it.

Things that Mimic God’s Peace

When we’re seeking to discern God’s peace in our circumstances, it’s helpful to consider whether what we are sensing is actually one or more of the following:

1. Relief that a decision has been made.

I personally hate living in a state of indecision. This causes problems for me in my ability to discern peace. Sometimes, if I wrestle with decisions for long periods of time, like the one I described earlier, the simple act of reaching a decision can feel a lot like God’s peace.

2. Release from discomfort or responsibility.

When we leave an extremely uncomfortable or stressful situation—especially one that has been uncomfortable and stressful for a long time—we will feel “peace” when we escape it. To be fair, your life may be legitimately more peaceful when you walk away from a difficult circumstance. If you come home every night to screaming and fighting with your spouse, it will be more peaceful to move out. No question. But we cannot confuse “release” with God’s peace. This can be especially dangerous when we are considering a job change, a relocation, or a divorce. For the record, God often leads us to endure painful trials and difficult circumstances. Rarely is the path of least resistance the path to God’s will.

3. A met need: food, shelter, clothing, love, attention, affection.

Just because someone or something is meeting our needs, it does not necessarily mean it is God leading us there. If your husband is emotionally distant and another man is paying all kinds of attention to you—laughing at your jokes, asking about your dreams, and calling you beautiful—that may feel like peace, but I promise you, it’s not the peace of God. In fact, many times God leads us to a desolate place—a needy place—so that we will turn to Him and allow Him to be our sole Provider. He will use suffering to produce something more valuable in us.

4. A met desire: lust, wealth, power, fame.

Sometimes the lure of our flesh and the satisfaction of those desires feel so “right.” When a new opportunity promises money or influence, we may confuse that with God’s peace. Our flesh is one of the loudest, most persistent voices within us. It incessantly screams for attention. When we finally give in to what the flesh wants, it feels great—but, again, that is definitely not God’s peace.

This doesn’t mean that our feelings and God’s peace are mutually exclusive. Sometimes it’s a mixture of both. This is exactly what my pastor was getting at when he questioned my “peace.”

So how do you know the difference?

It can be difficult to untangle strong emotions or favorable circumstances from the peace of God. If you sense peace about a decision, ask yourself the following questions to determine if it’s the peace of God or something else:

• Does this decision honor God and bring glory to Him?

• Is this decision rooted in love for other people?

• Does this decision promote unity and peace within the Body of Christ?

If the answer is yes to all three of those questions, then it is probably the peace of God, even if it’s also mixed with complicated feelings.

I followed through and gave my notice that day, by the way. I didn’t know it at the time, but God was raising up another godly woman to replace me. And–total shocker–He was preparing our family for another cross-country move. Stepping down from this role was one of the many circumstances God had lined up to position us for that relocation. So, while it felt good to have made a decision and be released from a stressful situation, it was also the peace of God that led us into His will.

A Final Word

It can be tempting to approach hearing God and sensing His peace with formulas and check boxes. I mean, I love me some check boxes! But discerning God’s peace is more than that. It’s a lifelong practice of pursuing God’s heart.

As we pursue God, we’ll learn to discern the peace of God — because true peace is a fruit of the Spirit, a byproduct of walking with Him. It requires us to sit with our own motives, ask hard questions, and resist the urge to dress up relief or desire in spiritual clothing.

But when we do find it, we’ll recognize it. And we’ll learn to trust it more each time.

Let the peace of Christ –the inner calm of one who walks daily with Him–be the controlling factor in your hearts, deciding and settling questions that arise. To this peace indeed you were called as members in one body of believers. -Colossians 3:15

That’s exactly what we’re unpacking this week in The Abide Sessions as we study the inner voice: how to hear it, how to test it, and how to follow it with confidence. We’ll also study how the conscience relates to hearing God’s voice, and how clinical depression and anxiety can complicate it.

We’re a little over halfway through this study, and it’s not too late to join us! We’d love to have you!

Click here to learn more

Love,

Sandy

P.S. Don’t forget to take the survey!

Here’s everything you need to join tomorrow’s call:

• Date: March 26, 2026

• Time: 2 pm - 3 pm EST/ 1 pm - 2 pm CST/ Noon - 1 pm MT / 11 am - Noon PT

• Link to Join: https://us06web.zoom.us/j/82911642535pwd=cX1TINayCevHpnCy3i9XNLYUaeBTfs.1

  Meeting ID: 829 1164 2535

  Passcode: 704470

• Come prepared to discuss Lesson Five: The 5 Keys to Becoming a Good Listen…

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Ready?

I’ll go first:

1. I love Jesus, radically and unapologetically. Actually, if that’s all you knew about me, that would be enough. Jesus has breathed life into my stressed-out, overwhelmed, prideful soul. He’s transformed me (and continues to transform me) in ways too numerous to count. Everything I write and speak about begins and ends with Jesus. Apart from Him I can do nothing–and I mean that literally.

If you are looking for life hacks, quick tips, and self-help without Jesus, you won’t find that here. In fact, I don’t believe real balance exists apart from Jesus.

2. I have been married to Jon for over 32 years. That is a long time by anyone’s standards, and I couldn’t be prouder of us for making it this far. We have been through some hard stuff (see item #3 for starters). We’ve worked hard to get here.

Our marriage has survived a multitude of tests, and so far we’ve passed them all.

Yay us!

3. My oldest son, Noah, died suddenly and unexpectedly when he was 9 months old. No event in my life has shaped me more than the death of my son. Most of what I write and speak is a direct result of my wrestling with God over issues of His goodness and faithfulness in the aftermath of this tragedy.

4. I have a biological daughter born exactly nine months after the death of my son. Rebekah is the reason I got out of bed, fed myself, and breathed outdoor air after Noah died. What a gift. I’m so thankful for her.

Also, she got married last year, and now I have a son-in-law, too!

5. I have two adopted children: Elijah (domestic) and Elliana (international). I don’t know what I’d do without these two. They are proof to me that parental love has nothing to do with biology. I love adoption and love talking about adoption and would love for ALL OF YOU TO ADOPT!

6. I battled clinical depression most of my life, except I didn’t know it was depression until I nearly had a nervous breakdown—I just thought I was really crabby. 👀

I have been mostly depression-free since 2008–though, still sometimes crabby.

I’m super intentional about managing my depression with a combo of natural supplements and lifestyle choices. I write and speak about that quite a bit around here, because I want you to be depression-free, too.

7. Speaking of managing depression and anxiety: in 2021, I left social media for good. Not long after, I launched Writing Off Social with one of my best friends . If you’re a female Christian writer who wants to grow your audience without social media, we can help!

Also, highly probable that we will make you laugh.

(We aren’t messing around about the humor thing. We literally wrote this into our manifesto: Embracing the belief that laughter holds the power to lighten burdens and break down barriers- we be funny.)

8. I love to cook. Eating healthy food has been one of my most successful strategies for fighting depression and anxiety. I hold an accredited culinary certification called “Plant-Based Professional.” It’s very fancy (not really). People are afraid to order meat around me. I promise, I do not care if you eat a hamburger.

9. I love being home. And I also love the beach. And as of the summer of 2020, those two things are actually in the same general vicinity. It’s almost too good to be true.

10. I love lists. (And parenthetical phrases.)

Okay, now it’s YOUR TURN!

There are a lot of new faces around here, and I’d love to get to know you. Would you take 4-6 minutes (yes, I timed it) to take this survey? As a thank you, I will be choosing two of you to win a $100 Amazon gift card.

Take the Survey

Thank you!

Love,

Sandy

I hope you’ve enjoyed Lesson Four: The Five Keys to Becoming a Good Listener (Cont.). Integrate Periods of Solutude and Emulate a Spirit of Humility. I feel like these last two weeks have been like a MONTH and I can’t wait to connect with you again.

Here’s everything you need to join tomorrow’s call:

• Date: March 12, 2026

• Time: 2 pm - 3 pm EST/ 1…

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“For certain, there has not been enough silence in my life. Silence is the condition for true listening. But I have too little of it. Silence came visiting and found me already occupied. The element of silence for me is scanty and thin. My existence is a welter of noise.”
-Mark Buchanan

A study published in 2002 in Psychological Science examined the effects that airport noise had on children’s health and cognition. The study revealed that children exposed to noise develop a stress response, which causes them to ignore the noise.

That almost sounds like a good thing, right?

Except, these children not only ignore the harmful airport noise, but also all helpful stimuli, as well—even speech.

According to Gary W. Evans, a professor of human ecology at Cornell University, “This study is among the strongest, probably the most definitive proof, that noise—even at levels that do not produce any hearing damage—causes stress and is harmful to humans.”

Extensive studies on the effects of noise show that noise harms task performance at both work and school. It decreases motivation and increases errors. It affects reading comprehension, memory, and problem-solving.

Children exposed to excessive noise suffer lower reading scores and are slower in their development of cognitive and language skills.

But, here’s the good news: silence appears to have the opposite effect.

In as little as two minutes of silence, we experience positive changes in blood pressure and blood circulation to the brain. In silence, the brain is able to let down its sensory guard and restore some of what has been “lost” through excess noise.

What is true about literal noise is also true for spiritual noise.

We have never lived in a “louder” time in the history of the world. To be fair, we don’t all live near airports, but we are all bombarded with incessant noise, both internally and externally.

Consider:

• The average American spends almost five hours a day on a mobile device.

• A third of us say we are online “almost constantly,” where we see anywhere from 4,000 to 10,000 ads per day.

• We have television streaming 24 hours per day, while also holding our handheld devices, scrolling, scrolling, scrolling.

• When we drive, we flip on the radio or resume a podcast or make phone calls.

• When we walk, we pop in our earbuds and listen to an audiobook.

• We do housework to the sound of our playlist.

• We fall asleep to the hum of the television.

• We wake to the sound of the radio.

One study suggests the average person gets a mere 63 minutes a day of complete silence. I don’t know about you, but that estimate sounds high to me.

Not all noise is bad noise. I love podcasts and music. Audiobooks are a wonderful convenience for book-lovers like me. I like HGTV as much as the next gal. But is it any wonder—with multiple streams of stimuli flooding our minds perpetually—that we have a difficult time hearing God’s voice? In order to hear God better, we must learn to make room for Him in our thoughts.

Psalm 10:4 says, “In his pride the wicked man does not seek him; in all his thoughts there is no room for God.” (Emphasis mine)

Maybe the thought of slipping away alone for the sole purpose of being silent sounds self-indulgent to you. Maybe you feel guilty for even considering taking time away from your job, your children, or other responsibilities. Maybe you don’t feel like you deserve time alone.

I can relate to this.

When my kids were very little and I was home with them all day, every day, rarely did I feel like I “deserved” time alone.

After all, I chose to have these children. I chose to set aside my career to be home with them. To actively seek time to flee their presence tipped toward “unloving.” It wasn’t their fault they were noisy. And messy. (The messy part isn’t relevant to this conversation, but I just feel the need to justify the fact that my house was trashed for the better part of two decades, despite my constant cleaning.)

Instead of acknowledging that need for silence, I’d suppress it. I’d tell myself, you’re fine… suck it up. I’d picture the teary-eyed older women in Target (who’d always stop me while I was trying to navigate the cart through the narrow aisles while kids hung onto the edges, making it impossible to steer) reminding me to enjoy every moment—even the noisy ones.

Which, incidentally, were all the moments.

The suppression strategy always worked… right up until I’d snap, after which, I’d find myself crouched on the floor behind the laundry room door, crying hot wet tears because CAN I JUST HAVE FIVE MINUTES OF QUIET PLEASE?!

Or Jon would walk in after a 10-hour workday, and I’d abruptly hand him a sticky toddler in the doorway, then peel out of the driveway like I was late for my appointment with silence.

This suck-it-up-until-you-snap strategy is not conducive to hearing God.

Then I discovered all the times in the Bible where Jesus broke away from the crowds to be alone. Think about that. Jesus—as in, God in the flesh—intentionally walked away from people (!) to be alone.

If Jesus needed solitude, then who am I to think I don’t?

This is what we are experiencing together in The Abide Sessions – and we’d love to have you! This week, we are studying the vital role silence and solitude play in hearing the voice of God. When you join, you get a copy of my book, Is The Voice in My Head God or Just Me, and access to our private chat and Zoom gatherings. Our next gathering is on March 12th.

You can join for one month to try it out and cancel any time.

Join the Abide Sessions

If you’d like to listen to the podcast episodes I’ve done on hearing the voice of God, I’ve created a Spotify playlist. You can pop in your earbud and hit play. Easy peasy.

Wishing you more silence than noise this week — and ears to hear what matters most.

Love,

Sandy

Did everyone make it through that L-O-N-G lesson? No matter how far you got, be prepared to share your biggest takeaway!

Here’s everything you need to join tomorrow’s call:

• Date: February 26, 2026

• Time: 2 pm - 3 pm EST/ 1 pm - 2 pm CST/ Noon - 1 pm MT / 11 am - Noon PT

• Link to Join: https://us06web.zoom.us/j/82911642535pwd=cX1TINayCevHpnCy3i9XNLYU…

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But, I could use some levity right about now—and I’m assuming you could, too.

And that is why I’m bringing back a fan favorite: A Life Update with Photos from My iPhone: Where I let the photos tell the story.

👩‍💻 Also, I’ve been alerted by Substack that this message is “too long for email” and may be truncated when it arrives at you. (Auto-correct suggested I change that sentence from “arrives to you” to “arrives at you.” And while it’s not grammatically correct, it is more accurate, so I’m going with it.)

Anyhoo, if that happens at you, click “view entire message” in your email to see the whole thing.

First up, if you’ve ever wondered what my family looks like as an HBO satirical black-comedy drama television series centered on the Cooper family—owners of a global media and entertainment conglomerate brimming with secrets and motives…here you go.

After I removed the Christmas lights from the mantle, it was so dark. Darker than it seemed in past years1. So, I bought some flameless candles and some lighted greenery. I don’t know why it took me so long to figure out that this is exactly what my mantle needs.

If you, too, need lights on your mantle, you can get them here and here.2

Do you know about the doors in Italy? I did NOT—until June, when I traveled there.

Italian doors are heavy, weathered, and full of texture—thick wood, peeling paint, iron hardware, and stone frames softened by time. They’re easy to obsess over because no two are the same, and each one quietly suggests a life going on just beyond view.

I spent much of my time walking the streets of Italy saying, “Hold on…I need to take a picture of this door.” It wasn’t long before I’d just say, “DOOR!” and everyone would stop and wait for me to take a picture.

Needless to say, I had dozens of pictures of doors on my iPhone, and I wanted to do something special with them. So, I chose the best ones, cropped and edited them, and put them on a canvas that now hangs in my dining room. I could not possibly love this more than I do.

Speaking of travel, I just returned from spending two weeks in Oregon, where my husband is working. The town where he stays is small, historic, quaint, and completely walkable. Which is basically my dream: to live in a walkable town. I have a competing dream of never moving again as long as I live, which complicates things. So this current work situation is a nice compromise.

I decided to call it Stars Hollow, because: Gilmore Girls. And also, who doesn’t want to live in Stars Hollow?

I have literally hundreds of pictures on my phone of the quaint town. For two full weeks, I walked everywhere: to the grocery store, the post office, the bookstore, the coffee shop, and dinner. It was idyllic. Here are a few of the picturesque churches in “Stars Hollow,” Oregon3.

Since I was there for a few weeks, I set up shop to work. Here is the tiny desk in the master bedroom of the townhouse.

So, Jacksonville, FL (where we live) is on Eastern Standard Time. Oregon (where Jon is working) is on Pacific Standard Time. That means when I woke up in Oregon at 6 am, it was already 9 a.m. in Florida. Usually, I am awake, prayed up, caffeinated, and dressed before any of my coaching clients, friends, or family try to contact me. But not in Stars Hollow! Every morning at 6 a.m. PST, I woke up to this:

We took a road trip to the Oregon Coast. You know I’m a big fan of the beach, but I’ve never seen a beach like this. I mean, just look…

Compared to Jacksonville Beach, where we have no mountains or giant rocks or hovering fog:

We also do not have sea lions in Jax Beach. Sad. The sea lions are adorable. I need more sea lions in my life.

Then we hiked through the Redwoods. Have you ever been? They be HUGE!!

Fun fact about me: I do NOT love to fly. I WILL fly. I DO fly. But I would choose a road trip over air travel any day of the week. Since Oregon is 2,400 miles from Florida, driving is not an option—unless of course I want to drive for a literal week.

Therefore, I fly.

That said, the flight home was turbulent. I don’t mean a little bit turbulent. I mean the kind where the flight attendants are strapped into their jump seats and get on the intercom to yell at the poor lady who tries to walk to the restroom, “Ma’am! Please return to your seat! It is NOT SAFE for you to be walking through the cabin!!!” 😱

Meanwhile, this was the view outside my window. (I always choose the window seat so that I can control the plane, obviously.)

I snapped this picture thinking: If we are going down, I want my family to know I died in a beautiful place. I’ll let you know later if I survived.4

Finally, I’ll leave you with a few funny things from one of my favorite Substack follows:

Well, this concludes my life update. Please feel free to leave good news or humor in the comments. Also, kindly take part in this week’s poll.

I’m a slow processor. I have an unfiltered quick wit, sure. But it takes me a minute to gather information, sort through the real from the fake, and formulate my opinion into a helpful essay for the masses. No one will benefit from my quick wit showing up on the internet, where it will live in infamy for all eternity.

This is one of the many reasons I choose to focus on equipping rather than reacting, on formation rather than information.

It’s not because I don’t care about the news or politics. (Well, I kinda don’t care about politics, specifically, but that’s not the point.) And it’s definitely not that I have my head in the sand about the state of our nation. Even though I am no longer on social media and refuse to read an algorithmically-driven news feed, the news still finds me. Trust me, I know what’s happening and I have BIG FEELINGS about it all.

From the very first time I opened my home to women in 2001 (my literal home to my IRL neighbors), I have sought to be an oasis, a reprieve, a breath of fresh air to the women I serve. When I started my podcast in 2019 and especially throughout the pandemic when the internet lost its ever-loving mind, I prayed that God would make me the non-anxious voice in the middle of the chaos.

I am certain of my God-given calling, and it’s not to add to the noise, but rather to help you abide in the Vine when the noise becomes deafening.

The other night, I was on the phone with a loved one whose family is deeply, personally impacted by decisions being made right now in Washington. He is angry and scared, and he is making preparations to ensure his family’s safety. I listened and cried with him. I asked questions and offered empathy. But in my attempt to be the non-anxious voice, I think it came off more as platitudes. Like “calm down, it’s all gonna be fine.” Like I didn’t fully grasp the gravity of the situation.

I felt helpless.

I love these people more than I can adequately express here. I am appalled by the leaders making these decisions. I am appalled by the people carrying them out. I am shocked and sickened by the violence and manipulation. I have words about it all—so many words. It would be so easy for me to get on here and use my platform to join the growing voices of outrage, in an effort to facilitate change for the people I love.

But that felt out of alignment with my calling.

So instead of reacting publicly, I went to Jesus.

Lord, how am I to respond? What am I to do? How can I possibly make a difference in this seemingly hopeless situation?

And Jesus led me to The Sermon on the Mount. Found in Matthew chapters 5-7, this is Jesus’ longest recorded teaching in the Gospels — a concentrated snapshot of what life in the kingdom of God looks like from the inside out.

Tucked within this sermon is this:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven.” -Matthew 5:43-45

Later that morning, as I walked through the neighborhood, thinking about this passage in light of the news, my feelings, and the (justifiable) fear and anger of my loved ones, I sensed the Lord telling me to pray for my enemies. The people I’m angry with. Those in power who appall me.

UGH!

Loving your enemies and praying for those who persecute you sounds reasonable until your enemy has a title, a name, and the power to harm you and your family.

So, right there on my walk, I prayed for them. Not just a “get ‘em, Lord” kind of prayer, which is how I most often pray for people who mistreat me.

But I prayed blessings over them and their families.

I prayed that God would surround them with God-fearing followers of Christ to speak truth into their hearts and minds.

I prayed that God would give them wisdom as they lead our country and make decisions and carry out their duties.

I prayed that God would change their hearts and call them to repentance and submission to the Lord.

You guys, this is absolutely absurd.

I can honestly say, in the forty years I have faithfully walked with the Lord, I have never prayed for my enemies like this. I’m praying for wisdom and blessing over people I believe are acting foolishly and cruelly. This makes no earthly sense.

And yet — this is a radical demonstration of what it means to live as a disciple of Jesus in this upside-down kingdom.

When I got home from my walk, I added my enemies to my prayer list. I listed them by name inside the cover of my beloved journal.

There, sandwiched between my children’s names and my closest friends, are the names of powerful men who are making decisions I find unconscionable.

Men I actively dislike. Men whose actions I find detestable. Men I would avoid at all costs. (I want to say I hate them, but I am sure Jesus would advise against this.)

But in that act of adding their names to my prayer list, I felt a shift in my posture. Rather than helplessness, I felt strength and hope.

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” —Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

This is life-changing, and I don’t say that lightly. I believe this type of prayer has power — power to change my enemies, power to change the situation, and power to change me. If everyone who calls herself a follower and disciple of Christ did this one thing — loved her enemies and prayed for those who persecute her — can you imagine the impact on our nation? On the world?

I’m not saying we don’t need Christians in politics — we desperately do.

I’m not saying we don’t need people serving on the ground — by all means, if you can, go.

I’m not saying we don’t need wise teachers on the internet crafting in-the-moment commentary to help us think biblically about current events — if that’s you, please keep on.

But we also need this: ordinary followers of Jesus doing the extraordinary work of praying for our enemies.

I’m telling you, this is not normal. This is upside-down. This is counter-cultural. AND this is how we abide.

This is how people like me and you — the slow processors and the non-anxious voices — participate in God’s upside-down kingdom. Not with our heads in the sand, but with our hearts firmly rooted in the true Vine.

Want to go deeper? Here are some resources:

To learn more about loving your enemies in today’s world, check out The Living Un-Offended Podcast with Brant Hansen for short weekly episodes of what this looks like in practice. It’s through the encouragement in this podcast that God led me to consider praying for my enemies in this way.

To hear me interview Brant Hansen, listen to our conversation on The Balanced MomCast here.

To lean more deeply into abiding in Christ in 2026, join us for The Abide Sessions.