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Kristen Welch — Christianity
Kristen Welch

We are THAT Family

Latest Episodes:

The Poorest People In The World Apr 14, 2018
Show notes

“The bedbugs used to eat my babies but God is God and now they get to sleep,” Agnes

“I’m thankful that God has given me a new name. I was “that poor woman” but now I have a name,” Esther

“I was a sex worker but now I’m free and I have a good job making jewelry,” Faith

“I’m thankful for clean food. I used to only get food from the dump,” Papina

“I thank God that I can feed my children,” Miriam

“I’m thankful that I now have more than one dress to wear so I don’t have to wash and dry my only one every night,” Jane

“I’m grateful my child that was stolen while I lived on the street has been found,” Mama Gideon

As I listened to each woman share her gratitude in a slum in Kenya today, I realized sometimes we don’t even know everything we have until we hear what others say they are thankful they have received.

Because I’ve never once thanked God that my children didn’t sleep with bedbugs or that I have more than one dress or that I’m not a sex worker.

Perspective is everything.

I don’t know why God asked me to spend the rest of my life telling the stories of the poor. But sharing theirs has rewritten mine. I discovered that my lack of gratitude made me a pauper and their thanksgiving made them wealthy.

Because Gratitude helps us see what is there instead of what isn’t.

If you’d asked me a decade ago about these women, I would have said they were the poorest people in the world.

But I’ve realized the poorest people in the world aren’t people who have nothing. The poorest people in the world are those who aren’t grateful for what they have.

Something pretty amazing happens when we choose gratitude–we share what we’ve been given.

As I listened to women on the this side of the ocean say what they were thankful for today, I thought of how your generosity, your purchases, your gratitude has made every testimony of praise possible.

It’s true. God has used every dollar that has been given to Mercy House since 2010 to make the impossible, possible.

I’m an eyewitness and I’m standing on holy ground and I’m telling you–it is working. Because God is working.

When you become a part of someone else’s story because of gratitude, you remind women in poverty that God knows their name.

When you join Fair Trade Friday, you set sex workers free.

When you purchase the gratitude dish towel from India or the sweet pencil pouch made by our teen moms above, you provide dignified jobs.

When you become a monthly donor and support our maternity centers in Kenya, you change entire generations.

Gratitude turns what we have into enough.

When we have enough, we share our extra.

And it makes us the richest people in the world.

The Poorest People In The World Apr 14, 2018
Show notes

“The bedbugs used to eat my babies but God is God and now they get to sleep,” Agnes

“I’m thankful that God has given me a new name. I was “that poor woman” but now I have a name,” Esther

“I was a sex worker but now I’m free and I have a good job making jewelry,” Faith

“I’m thankful for clean food. I used to only get food from the dump,” Papina

“I thank God that I can feed my children,” Miriam

“I’m thankful that I now have more than one dress to wear so I don’t have to wash and dry my only one every night,” Jane

“I’m grateful my child that was stolen while I lived on the street has been found,” Mama Gideon

As I listened to each woman share her gratitude in a slum in Kenya today, I realized sometimes we don’t even know everything we have until we hear what others say they are thankful they have received.

Because I’ve never once thanked God that my children didn’t sleep with bedbugs or that I have more than one dress or that I’m not a sex worker.

Perspective is everything.

I don’t know why God asked me to spend the rest of my life telling the stories of the poor. But sharing theirs has rewritten mine. I discovered that my lack of gratitude made me a pauper and their thanksgiving made them wealthy.

Because Gratitude helps us see what is there instead of what isn’t.

If you’d asked me a decade ago about these women, I would have said they were the poorest people in the world.

But I’ve realized the poorest people in the world aren’t people who have nothing. The poorest people in the world are those who aren’t grateful for what they have.

Something pretty amazing happens when we choose gratitude–we share what we’ve been given.

As I listened to women on the this side of the ocean say what they were thankful for today, I thought of how your generosity, your purchases, your gratitude has made every testimony of praise possible.

It’s true. God has used every dollar that has been given to Mercy House since 2010 to make the impossible, possible.

I’m an eyewitness and I’m standing on holy ground and I’m telling you–it is working. Because God is working.

When you become a part of someone else’s story because of gratitude, you remind women in poverty that God knows their name.

When you join Fair Trade Friday, you set sex workers free.

When you purchase the gratitude dish towel from India or the sweet pencil pouch made by our teen moms above, you provide dignified jobs.

When you become a monthly donor and support our maternity centers in Kenya, you change entire generations.

Gratitude turns what we have into enough.

When we have enough, we share our extra.

And it makes us the richest people in the world.

You Go Where You’re Sent, You Stay Where You’re Put, You Give What You’ve Got Until You’re Done Feb 12, 2018
Show notes

I had a meltdown on the subway.

I guess it was bound to happen. In less than a week, I’d taken a quick trip to Kenya to show Ann Voskamp around and to bring back new fair trade pieces (rugs! throws!) from our artisans, spent a couple of sleepy days at home juggling all the things and then I was off to New York City to launch Mercy House’s first wholesale collection at a Handmade Global Market.

It started with my favorite boots. I grabbed a seat on the crowded subway and snuggled up to my sister and daughter in the freezing wind. I reached down to arrange my socks and noticed mud from the slum still caked on the heels of my boots.

And just like that –the two worlds I straddle (sometimes badly) collided. I was wide awake in the city that never sleeps.

The heavy responsibility, audacity and impossibility of what I was trying to do hit me like a ton of bricks. I know that God has asked us to turn very poor women into artisans as a way to prevent the trafficking that leads pregnant teen girls to our maternity homes, but it would have been a lot easier to turn skilled artisans into producers. But He asked and I said yes.

What began 8 years ago (this week!) as a desire to help survival prostitutes in Kenya, has taken us on the journey of job creation to not only provide opportunity where there is none, but to also fund three rescue centers from the result of those new jobs.

I kept repeating Jill Briscoe’s words, “You go where you’re sent, you stay where you’re put, you give what you’ve got until you’re done.”

But I was scared. And in the middle of that subway car, as my family held my hands and prayed for me, I couldn’t stop the tears.

Because no one will every really know the high cost of our yes.

But we keep answering because He keeps asking. We say yes because it’s worth it. We go because He came so that others my find Him. We don’t wait to become brave. “Courage isn’t a feeling you wait for. Courage is doing when you don’t have courage. Courage is doing it scared.” Jill Briscoe

Our amazing Mercy House team styled our beautiful booth and hung the cotton throws and soft rugs and I couldn’t help but tell everyone who would listen the names of the women who sat at looms for five long days to weave each one. I whispered miujiza “miracles” again and again under my breath, thanking God for asking, even if I continue to reply with a scared shaky yes.

It is working because He is working. And I’m constantly being worked on. So that I may do this work.

When the first order was placed, for a variety of our product, I had to let our staff continue the conversation with the customer because crying in NYC at the Global Handmade Market might be a little unprofessional.

But when you ask God for a creative idea for a product and He delivers and you fly across the ocean to sit in the homes of desperate women and teach it to them, when you dare to turn very poor women into artisans, and you stand in your unlikely booth in NYC and get your first large wholesale order, there will be tears.

I don’t know what God has asked you to do. But I am certain He is asking. Everyone of us is created to answer Him.

Yeah, I don’t know what He’s asking you today, but I know that it will cost you. The question might be to go. Or to stay. The question might be to open your home to a foster child or your heart to an orphan, to sponsor, support, someone who has less than you do, to sacrifice and share what you’ve been given.

And no one will ever really know what it will cost you–the great personal sacrifice of your time and resources, the energy expended, the fears and tears, the hurtful words of those who question your yes, the way it has broken your heart and given you purpose, the stress and tension its put on your family, the gray hair, the 10 extra pounds, the helpless pain of carrying another person’s trauma, the crushing burden and unspeakable joy it brings you. But God know and He’s the only one who really counts.

We say yes because this is God’s good plan–to use the scared, the unlikely, the broken, the uncertain yes-sayers to do Kingdom work for His glory.

You go where you’re sent, you stay where you’re put, you give what you’ve got until you’re done.

Lean in. Listen close. Say yes to God, friends. It’s worth it. Because it’s here in this place–with mud on our boots and tears in our eyes–we meet Jesus.

You Go Where You’re Sent, You Stay Where You’re Put, You Give What You’ve Got Until You’re Done Feb 12, 2018
Show notes

I had a meltdown on the subway.

I guess it was bound to happen. In less than a week, I’d taken a quick trip to Kenya to show Ann Voskamp around and to bring back new fair trade pieces (rugs! throws!) from our artisans, spent a couple of sleepy days at home juggling all the things and then I was off to New York City to launch Mercy House’s first wholesale collection at a Handmade Global Market.

It started with my favorite boots. I grabbed a seat on the crowded subway and snuggled up to my sister and daughter in the freezing wind. I reached down to arrange my socks and noticed mud from the slum still caked on the heels of my boots.

And just like that –the two worlds I straddle (sometimes badly) collided. I was wide awake in the city that never sleeps.

The heavy responsibility, audacity and impossibility of what I was trying to do hit me like a ton of bricks. I know that God has asked us to turn very poor women into artisans as a way to prevent the trafficking that leads pregnant teen girls to our maternity homes, but it would have been a lot easier to turn skilled artisans into producers. But He asked and I said yes.

What began 8 years ago (this week!) as a desire to help survival prostitutes in Kenya, has taken us on the journey of job creation to not only provide opportunity where there is none, but to also fund three rescue centers from the result of those new jobs.

I kept repeating Jill Briscoe’s words, “You go where you’re sent, you stay where you’re put, you give what you’ve got until you’re done.”

But I was scared. And in the middle of that subway car, as my family held my hands and prayed for me, I couldn’t stop the tears.

Because no one will every really know the high cost of our yes.

But we keep answering because He keeps asking. We say yes because it’s worth it. We go because He came so that others my find Him. We don’t wait to become brave. “Courage isn’t a feeling you wait for. Courage is doing when you don’t have courage. Courage is doing it scared.” Jill Briscoe

Our amazing Mercy House team styled our beautiful booth and hung the cotton throws and soft rugs and I couldn’t help but tell everyone who would listen the names of the women who sat at looms for five long days to weave each one. I whispered miujiza “miracles” again and again under my breath, thanking God for asking, even if I continue to reply with a scared shaky yes.

It is working because He is working. And I’m constantly being worked on. So that I may do this work.

When the first order was placed, for a variety of our product, I had to let our staff continue the conversation with the customer because crying in NYC at the Global Handmade Market might be a little unprofessional.

But when you ask God for a creative idea for a product and He delivers and you fly across the ocean to sit in the homes of desperate women and teach it to them, when you dare to turn very poor women into artisans, and you stand in your unlikely booth in NYC and get your first large wholesale order, there will be tears.

I don’t know what God has asked you to do. But I am certain He is asking. Everyone of us is created to answer Him.

Yeah, I don’t know what He’s asking you today, but I know that it will cost you. The question might be to go. Or to stay. The question might be to open your home to a foster child or your heart to an orphan, to sponsor, support, someone who has less than you do, to sacrifice and share what you’ve been given.

And no one will ever really know what it will cost you–the great personal sacrifice of your time and resources, the energy expended, the fears and tears, the hurtful words of those who question your yes, the way it has broken your heart and given you purpose, the stress and tension its put on your family, the gray hair, the 10 extra pounds, the helpless pain of carrying another person’s trauma, the crushing burden and unspeakable joy it brings you. But God know and He’s the only one who really counts.

We say yes because this is God’s good plan–to use the scared, the unlikely, the broken, the uncertain yes-sayers to do Kingdom work for His glory.

You go where you’re sent, you stay where you’re put, you give what you’ve got until you’re done.

Lean in. Listen close. Say yes to God, friends. It’s worth it. Because it’s here in this place–with mud on our boots and tears in our eyes–we meet Jesus.

The Christmas I Got What I Asked For (And What It Taught Me About Entitlement) Dec 07, 2017
Show notes

I’ll never forget the first time I told my husband not to get me anything for Christmas.

It was the year he got me exactly what I’d asked for.

Nothing.

I watched my kids open their gifts, snapped pictures of their excited faces, made a big breakfast feast and I waited. I knew he was going to pull out a surprise gift.

But he didn’t. And I was disappointed.

Inwardly, I felt like such an ungrateful brat. He was doing exactly what I told him, but the problem was I still had expectations. I still wanted…something.

A couple of days after Christmas, he brought home a belated gift and I said thank you, you didn’t have to. We both knew I had missedthe point of Christmas.

A couple of months later, I traveled to Africa for the first time and my life–including my expectations and entitlement– wrecked me. I had no idea this yes would turn my life completely upside down.

There are expectations with Christmas. And with expectations, comes disappointment. And disappointment is the breeding ground for ingratitude.We’ve had our fair share of all of the above in our house.

My youngest is in her last year of elementary school this year. She came home the other day and we had this conversation:

“Mom, my friends and I were talking about Christmas presents. Everyone was telling how many presents they each open on Christmas morning. I told them I get three gifts. The other kids couldn’t believe it. Did you know other kids get 10 or even 20? I think they felt sorry for me,” she said. I could hear the longing for more in her voice. It was a good opportunity to talk about expectations and how gratitude turns what we have into enough.

I spent the first few years as a mother giving my kids everything I wanted them to have whether they needed it or not and I failed to see that I was creating an atmosphere that would be difficult to change.

We all know how hard parenting is… But if I’ve learned anything in this parenting journey, I’ve discovered that entitled kids start with parents who entitle them. And if we are really honest, we might admit we struggle with our own list of things we think we deserve.

Here are 4 ways to battle entitlement this Christmas season–for us and our kids:

1. Give back on Christmas Day | Look for a way to do something tangible for someone else on Christmas Day. For 6-7 years, we’ve taken treats to the local hospitals that took care of our youngest when she was born premature. It’s always a great way to stop in the middle of celebrating and remember someone else. Invite a single person over for Christmas dinner or visit someone who might feel forgotten…

2. Don’t forget to create opportunities for hard work | Grace and salvation are free, but stuff we want isn’t. Sometimes this is more obvious at Christmas (especially if we don’t get what we hoped for). Typically this time of year, we put up a job list up and give our kids opportunities to earn money to buy Christmas gifts. Two of my kids actually argued over who got to do the job that topped the list: SCOOP DOG POOP. It’s these kind of moments in parenting, that we treasure in our hearts. Here are 15 ways to teach kids about hard work. (Christmas break is a great time to start).

3. Look for the lesson -When entitlement rears its head, look beyond the demand. | When my kids expect more than I give them, my first reaction isn’t to look for the teachable moment. But I’m learning that’s often what I need to do. I understand I’ve created some of the problem and it’s to be expected in our culture in certain situations. Offering perspective is often a great way to remind kids how much they already have.

4. Make gratitude a way of life all year long | When we make gratitude and thankfulness a priority all the time, kids are more apt to show thankfulness when they get what they want and when they don’t.

Christmas and kids go together. And in our culture, entitlement right along with them. My family will be opening gifts on Christmas morning probably like yours. Everyone might get exactly what they want or maybe they won’t. But we can start teaching our kids the true meaning of Christmas by making entitled moments teachable ones and thanking them for grateful ones.

GratefulKidsBook — The Christmas I Got What I Asked For (And What It Taught Me About Entitlement) Dec 07, 2017
Show notes

I’ll never forget the first time I told my husband not to get me anything for Christmas.

It was the year he got me exactly what I’d asked for.

Nothing.

I watched my kids open their gifts, snapped pictures of their excited faces, made a big breakfast feast and I waited. I knew he was going to pull out a surprise gift.

But he didn’t. And I was disappointed.

Inwardly, I felt like such an ungrateful brat. He was doing exactly what I told him, but the problem was I still had expectations. I still wanted…something.

A couple of days after Christmas, he brought home a belated gift and I said thank you, you didn’t have to. We both knew I had missedthe point of Christmas.

A couple of months later, I traveled to Africa for the first time and my life–including my expectations and entitlement– wrecked me. I had no idea this yes would turn my life completely upside down.

There are expectations with Christmas. And with expectations, comes disappointment. And disappointment is the breeding ground for ingratitude.We’ve had our fair share of all of the above in our house.

My youngest is in her last year of elementary school this year. She came home the other day and we had this conversation:

“Mom, my friends and I were talking about Christmas presents. Everyone was telling how many presents they each open on Christmas morning. I told them I get three gifts. The other kids couldn’t believe it. Did you know other kids get 10 or even 20? I think they felt sorry for me,” she said. I could hear the longing for more in her voice. It was a good opportunity to talk about expectations and how gratitude turns what we have into enough.

I spent the first few years as a mother giving my kids everything I wanted them to have whether they needed it or not and I failed to see that I was creating an atmosphere that would be difficult to change.

We all know how hard parenting is… But if I’ve learned anything in this parenting journey, I’ve discovered that entitled kids start with parents who entitle them. And if we are really honest, we might admit we struggle with our own list of things we think we deserve.

Here are 4 ways to battle entitlement this Christmas season–for us and our kids:

1. Give back on Christmas Day | Look for a way to do something tangible for someone else on Christmas Day. For 6-7 years, we’ve taken treats to the local hospitals that took care of our youngest when she was born premature. It’s always a great way to stop in the middle of celebrating and remember someone else. Invite a single person over for Christmas dinner or visit someone who might feel forgotten…

2. Don’t forget to create opportunities for hard work | Grace and salvation are free, but stuff we want isn’t. Sometimes this is more obvious at Christmas (especially if we don’t get what we hoped for). Typically this time of year, we put up a job list up and give our kids opportunities to earn money to buy Christmas gifts. Two of my kids actually argued over who got to do the job that topped the list: SCOOP DOG POOP. It’s these kind of moments in parenting, that we treasure in our hearts. Here are 15 ways to teach kids about hard work. (Christmas break is a great time to start).

3. Look for the lesson -When entitlement rears its head, look beyond the demand. | When my kids expect more than I give them, my first reaction isn’t to look for the teachable moment. But I’m learning that’s often what I need to do. I understand I’ve created some of the problem and it’s to be expected in our culture in certain situations. Offering perspective is often a great way to remind kids how much they already have.

4. Make gratitude a way of life all year long | When we make gratitude and thankfulness a priority all the time, kids are more apt to show thankfulness when they get what they want and when they don’t.

Christmas and kids go together. And in our culture, entitlement right along with them. My family will be opening gifts on Christmas morning probably like yours. Everyone might get exactly what they want or maybe they won’t. But we can start teaching our kids the true meaning of Christmas by making entitled moments teachable ones and thanking them for grateful ones.

Our Life Is Someone Else’s Fairytale Nov 30, 2017
Show notes

I opened the front door and welcomed them into my home again. I watched their eyes widen at our Christmas tree heavy with ornaments, the holiday pillows on my sofa and personalized stockings hanging on the mantle,.

My home is hardly a page out of a magazine. While they looked around in wonder, I saw the floor that needed to be swept, the sink full of dishes from a hurried dinner as we rushed to the airport, the air mattress my son would call his bed for the next two weeks because it’s our guest room, the overladen laundry baskets I’d hidden in my bedroom…I saw what I needed to do, what I didn’t have, what I thought was missing. I saw my life.

But as I welcomed my friends from Kenya into our home this week, I was reminded of this quote I’d written across my notepad a few days earlier, “Be thankful for what you have. Your life, no matter how bad you think it is, is someone else’s fairy tale,” Wale Ayeni.

I saw my life through their eyes and immediately saw all I have instead of what I don’t.

From the spray nozzle at the sink, to the Instant Pot on my counter to every convenience and comfort I take for granted on a daily basis, I instantly saw my life in a new light.

It’s our annual perspective check when we have the honor of welcoming the third world into our first and it is exactly what I needed in the middle of this holiday season.

Isn’t this the eye adjustment we need most during this time of the year—just a tweak to the way we see and it all becomes so clear: we have so much to be grateful for–no matter what. So many of our challenges and our problems in this first world are luxuries in the next. It doesn’t mean that we don’t struggle, it just means we need to remember that we get to choose how we go about it. We get to choose gratitude instead of grumbling, calm instead of complaining, praise instead of pouting.

As we carried their bags upstairs, I couldn’t help but think about what my friends witness– and have lived—on a daily basis: unimaginable choices young mothers have made for survival as they lead the Kenyan side of Mercy House, oppressive and hopeless poverty, and suffering. So much suffering.

Because our life, no matter how bad we think it is, is someone else’s fairy tale.

Be grateful for what you have. It’s more than you think.

The Truth About Parenting Oct 29, 2017
Show notes

In my first few years of adjusting to motherhood, I made a lot of mistakes (and I’m not referring to buying a “colic machine” that vibrated my crying baby’s crib. Scam. I got a refund.).

I worried a lot and second-guessed myself. Why is she crying? Is she hungry? Why won’t she sleep? I struggled with trying to control this new little human. Some days I spent hours trying to get my baby to sleep and other days I would go to great lengths to wake my sleeping baby so I could feed her.

I think one of my biggest mistakes was not taking enough time for myself. I probably would have blamed it on being financially strapped but it was also simple neglect.

My glaring inadequacies were more noticeable and I began to understand for the first time as a new parent how God feels about me, His child. Parenting is God’s mirror: it shows us a reflection of ourselves as we really are. I see myself in my children—good traits and bad—the way God sees me.

If you’ve ever had a two-year-old have a complete meltdown, kicking and screaming included, in a quiet library filled with serious book readers, you know what I mean. I’ll never forget marching my child back in the next day, so we could apologize, hoping they wouldn’t recognize us. They knew exactly who we were. I don’t think I went back to the library for a year after that.

I am stubborn too. I want freedom and choices. I want things my way. God is there, a constant. He never stops loving me. He is patient. He waits. I can see it now: the reflection. The gentle way He parents me. His discipline comes from abiding love. “Yes, I’m beginning to understand, God.” Thankfully, God isn’t repelled by our neediness.

Mothering is a journey. We don’t ever truly arrive. As our children grow, their needs change. Problems come and go, but they will always be our kids. I still call my mom when I need her and she still comes.

I don’t want to wish away today thinking tomorrow will be easier with my children. I want to live today the best I can and learn from it. Mothering is more about me growing up then my children. I used to think becoming a parent meant I knew something but the longer I’m a mom, the more I realize how much I don’t know.

excerpt from Rhinestone Jesus: Saying Yes to God When Are Safe Sparkly Faith Is No Longer Enough

The Secret To Raising Grateful Kids Oct 09, 2017
Show notes

I’ve discovered the secret to raising grateful kids in an entitled world.

Lean in and I’ll tell you…

It doesn’t exist.

Every home and every kid is different. That’s one of the things that makes family life so amazing and challenging–we are unique! There are no two exactly alike. What works for one, might not work for the other. We are all doing the best we can.

But I’m all ears when I hear what works for someone else because you never know! The beauty of community is we can learn from each other’s mistakes and successes. I’m not done in this parenting journey; I’m in the trenches with you. But here are 4 things I’ve found helpful in my quest to raise children who are grateful:

1. We Can Make Our Home a Safe Place

“I hope you don’t act this way at school!” Raise your hand if you’ve said it. I have. I used to wonder why my kids would get glowing reports at school, church, and extracurricular activities, and then come home and act like little devils. An older mom once cleared it up for me. “Kristen, isn’t this what you want? You teach them how to act and treat others, and they are doing it where it’s most important. They conform to society’s rules of no touching or talking in the hallway, and when they get home, they just need to let it all out. They feel safe at home—that’s why you see them at their worst.” Well, let me tell you, that was good news for this mom. That’s not to say from that moment on, it was a free-for-all at home. We kept the same structure and rules as we always had, but it helped me understand the difference in the two environments.

I want my home to be a safe place. I want it to be the place they bring their friends and hang out. I want my kids to feel secure enough to confess their struggles and sin and share their successes.

2. We Can Choose Relationship over Rules

My nature is to be a rule follower. Although we’re trying to raise our kids in a grace-filled home, sometimes old habits die hard. It took me a long time to see that rule-following doesn’t always reflect a heart for doing what’s right. When we choose grace over legalism, we are really choosing relationship over rules.

That’s not to say we shouldn’t have rules. I have a long list. But there must be flexibility, too. There will be times when we have to lay aside our rules to save the relationship. For example, early on I made the rule that everyone had to eat everything on their dinner plates every night or else face consequences. I tried to enforce it, but one of my kids has struggled for years with sensory reactions to certain food textures that makes doing what I’ve asked a consistent battle. So instead, I avoid the couple of foods that trigger this kid’s issues and, as a rule, I ask the sensitive eater to try whatever is served because “you just might like it.” And if this kid doesn’t, there is always peanut butter and bread available; I’m not fixing two dinners. (Some of you die-hard “sit there until your dinner is gone, and if you don’t eat it, you’re having it for breakfast” people are cringing right now, I’m sure.) But we’ve found something that works for us, because my way was actually making dinner a nightmare for our family, and it was hurting my relationship with my child.

When our kids push against us, our first reaction is to push back. But many times when they are struggling, they don’t need more discipline—they need more love.

3. We Can Choose to Live in Community

We intentionally spend time with people who want the same results we do. That doesn’t mean it’s perfect or even tidy, but when we let people into our lives and become vulnerable, they are going to see our mess. They will know we don’t have it all together; they will see that we are just like them. Human. We learn better together. Helping our kids connect with believers their age has always been a very high priority for our family. This commitment has been lifesaving in many ways because it has given them positive peer influence in every season.

4. We Can Pray for Our Children

Nothing we do or say can ever substitute for bowing our heads and praying for our children. There have been some really hard days in this journey when I’ve gone to bed burdened for one of my kids and slept fitfully, only to face another conflict the next morning. I have wanted to give up many times. And I have found comfort and peace in only one place—on my knees. There is something deeply spiritual and healing about humbling our bodies and our pride and laying the burden at Jesus’ feet.

Prayer is often the last thing we think of when it comes to difficult parenting days. We reserve it for our desperate moments, when there’s an unexpected diagnosis or rebellion. But God wants to walk this path with us. As a mom, nothing makes me feel less alone or more encouraged than giving my parenting burdens to the One who parents me.

excerpt from Raising Grateful Kids In An Entitled World

image credit: Total Shape

The Secret To Raising Grateful Kids Oct 09, 2017
Show notes

I’ve discovered the secret to raising grateful kids in an entitled world.

Lean in and I’ll tell you…

It doesn’t exist.

Every home and every kid is different. That’s one of the things that makes family life so amazing and challenging–we are unique! There are no two exactly alike. What works for one, might not work for the other. We are all doing the best we can.

But I’m all ears when I hear what works for someone else because you never know! The beauty of community is we can learn from each other’s mistakes and successes. I’m not done in this parenting journey; I’m in the trenches with you. But here are 4 things I’ve found helpful in my quest to raise children who are grateful:

1. We Can Make Our Home a Safe Place

“I hope you don’t act this way at school!” Raise your hand if you’ve said it. I have. I used to wonder why my kids would get glowing reports at school, church, and extracurricular activities, and then come home and act like little devils. An older mom once cleared it up for me. “Kristen, isn’t this what you want? You teach them how to act and treat others, and they are doing it where it’s most important. They conform to society’s rules of no touching or talking in the hallway, and when they get home, they just need to let it all out. They feel safe at home—that’s why you see them at their worst.” Well, let me tell you, that was good news for this mom. That’s not to say from that moment on, it was a free-for-all at home. We kept the same structure and rules as we always had, but it helped me understand the difference in the two environments.

I want my home to be a safe place. I want it to be the place they bring their friends and hang out. I want my kids to feel secure enough to confess their struggles and sin and share their successes.

2. We Can Choose Relationship over Rules

My nature is to be a rule follower. Although we’re trying to raise our kids in a grace-filled home, sometimes old habits die hard. It took me a long time to see that rule-following doesn’t always reflect a heart for doing what’s right. When we choose grace over legalism, we are really choosing relationship over rules.

That’s not to say we shouldn’t have rules. I have a long list. But there must be flexibility, too. There will be times when we have to lay aside our rules to save the relationship. For example, early on I made the rule that everyone had to eat everything on their dinner plates every night or else face consequences. I tried to enforce it, but one of my kids has struggled for years with sensory reactions to certain food textures that makes doing what I’ve asked a consistent battle. So instead, I avoid the couple of foods that trigger this kid’s issues and, as a rule, I ask the sensitive eater to try whatever is served because “you just might like it.” And if this kid doesn’t, there is always peanut butter and bread available; I’m not fixing two dinners. (Some of you die-hard “sit there until your dinner is gone, and if you don’t eat it, you’re having it for breakfast” people are cringing right now, I’m sure.) But we’ve found something that works for us, because my way was actually making dinner a nightmare for our family, and it was hurting my relationship with my child.

When our kids push against us, our first reaction is to push back. But many times when they are struggling, they don’t need more discipline—they need more love.

3. We Can Choose to Live in Community

We intentionally spend time with people who want the same results we do. That doesn’t mean it’s perfect or even tidy, but when we let people into our lives and become vulnerable, they are going to see our mess. They will know we don’t have it all together; they will see that we are just like them. Human. We learn better together. Helping our kids connect with believers their age has always been a very high priority for our family. This commitment has been lifesaving in many ways because it has given them positive peer influence in every season.

4. We Can Pray for Our Children

Nothing we do or say can ever substitute for bowing our heads and praying for our children. There have been some really hard days in this journey when I’ve gone to bed burdened for one of my kids and slept fitfully, only to face another conflict the next morning. I have wanted to give up many times. And I have found comfort and peace in only one place—on my knees. There is something deeply spiritual and healing about humbling our bodies and our pride and laying the burden at Jesus’ feet.

Prayer is often the last thing we think of when it comes to difficult parenting days. We reserve it for our desperate moments, when there’s an unexpected diagnosis or rebellion. But God wants to walk this path with us. As a mom, nothing makes me feel less alone or more encouraged than giving my parenting burdens to the One who parents me.

excerpt from Raising Grateful Kids In An Entitled World

image credit: Total Shape

I’m Not Okay. And That’s Okay Jul 31, 2017
Show notes

I wrote this post more than a year ago about my friend who wasn’t okay. This weekend I read my own words again as reminder that even though I’m not okay right now–it’s okay. My heart is a mess. I’m tired. I’m trying to figure out how to rest and simultaneously continue… Maybe you need these words too…

I sat on the edge of her bed, and she didn’t even look up. I was visiting a friend who was not okay.

It was more than a bad day, it was a sad season for her.

But I wasn’t deterred from my mission to cheer her up. And I tried everything. I suggested fun activities, reminded her of good times, quoted inspiring Scripture, and offered to play encouraging music.

I got an occasional head nod and a shrug.

As I sat there in silence, I thought back to days when I haven’t been okay. Some days I could name the pain I felt and others I couldn’t. And it’s when I thought of my own pain, I remembered what I needed the most.

So I did what I should have in the first place: I hugged her and whispered in her ear, “It’s okay to not be okay.”

She sighed in relief. Permission to not be okay is sometimes exactly what we need.

We sat in comfortable silence for a long time. I reminded her that God loved these days the best — the ones we can’t fix on our own. Because He is there with us. He doesn’t always change our circumstances, and we don’t always feel something new, but we aren’t alone. Sometimes that’s all we need.

She wiped away a single tear and whispered thank you. By the time I left, I hadn’t done much, but it was enough.

Today, you might not be okay. You might be facing a mountain of sadness or impossibility. You might be walking through a valley of despair. You might not even know why you aren’t okay. You might be looking at a scary diagnosis, experiencing a financial disaster, or struggling with a wayward child.

I’ve experienced all of the above.

These are the moments we do everything we can think of to resolve the struggle in our soul. And life sort of feels like quicksand — the harder we struggle, the deeper we sink. The days seem dark and lonely, and our soul is crushed by the heaviness of despair.

And if I’m perfectly honest with you about how I’m feeling today, I’m not okay either. I’ve been sick for days but beyond a cough and cold, my soul is exhausted. I’m burdened and overwhelmed. I’ve bitten off more than I can chew (Mercy House, opening a retail store, out-of-the-country houseguests, speaking and traveling –all this month) and today, I really miss my oblivious days when my biggest concerns were what to buy at Target and how to decorate for fall.

I see how easy my life is in the eyes of those who live such a hard one. And while I admit that I’ve made my life harder to ease the burden of theirs, I also confess that I am weary in well doing. And today, I’m not okay.

“Laying a life up against the chest of His Word, and hearing the steady beat of His heart, is the only soundtrack that strengthens the human heart.” ~ Ann Voskamp

But only one thing can refresh and renew and save our soul. And that’s the Word. Yet, God’s Word is often the last place we turn. It’s crazy to think a book with words can be the answer, but the Word of God is alive, and it cuts to the broken places and heals what we cannot.

The situation or struggle might not dissolve overnight, but we can find solace and comfort in the words He’s left for us:

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside still waters;
He restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths
for His name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I fear no evil;
for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff–
they comfort me.
{Psalm 23:2-4}

Today, I’m not okay. I need my soul to rest.

And there’s only one place we can find comfort, and that’s in the quiet space at His feet, where it’s okay to not be okay.

Because one day He will make everything okay.

I’m Not Okay. And That’s Okay Jul 31, 2017
Show notes

I wrote this post more than a year ago about my friend who wasn’t okay. This weekend I read my own words again as reminder that even though I’m not okay right now–it’s okay. My heart is a mess. I’m tired. I’m trying to figure out how to rest and simultaneously continue… Maybe you need these words too…

I sat on the edge of her bed, and she didn’t even look up. I was visiting a friend who was not okay.

It was more than a bad day, it was a sad season for her.

But I wasn’t deterred from my mission to cheer her up. And I tried everything. I suggested fun activities, reminded her of good times, quoted inspiring Scripture, and offered to play encouraging music.

I got an occasional head nod and a shrug.

As I sat there in silence, I thought back to days when I haven’t been okay. Some days I could name the pain I felt and others I couldn’t. And it’s when I thought of my own pain, I remembered what I needed the most.

So I did what I should have in the first place: I hugged her and whispered in her ear, “It’s okay to not be okay.”

She sighed in relief. Permission to not be okay is sometimes exactly what we need.

We sat in comfortable silence for a long time. I reminded her that God loved these days the best — the ones we can’t fix on our own. Because He is there with us. He doesn’t always change our circumstances, and we don’t always feel something new, but we aren’t alone. Sometimes that’s all we need.

She wiped away a single tear and whispered thank you. By the time I left, I hadn’t done much, but it was enough.

Today, you might not be okay. You might be facing a mountain of sadness or impossibility. You might be walking through a valley of despair. You might not even know why you aren’t okay. You might be looking at a scary diagnosis, experiencing a financial disaster, or struggling with a wayward child.

I’ve experienced all of the above.

These are the moments we do everything we can think of to resolve the struggle in our soul. And life sort of feels like quicksand — the harder we struggle, the deeper we sink. The days seem dark and lonely, and our soul is crushed by the heaviness of despair.

And if I’m perfectly honest with you about how I’m feeling today, I’m not okay either. I’ve been sick for days but beyond a cough and cold, my soul is exhausted. I’m burdened and overwhelmed. I’ve bitten off more than I can chew (Mercy House, opening a retail store, out-of-the-country houseguests, speaking and traveling –all this month) and today, I really miss my oblivious days when my biggest concerns were what to buy at Target and how to decorate for fall.

I see how easy my life is in the eyes of those who live such a hard one. And while I admit that I’ve made my life harder to ease the burden of theirs, I also confess that I am weary in well doing. And today, I’m not okay.

“Laying a life up against the chest of His Word, and hearing the steady beat of His heart, is the only soundtrack that strengthens the human heart.” ~ Ann Voskamp

But only one thing can refresh and renew and save our soul. And that’s the Word. Yet, God’s Word is often the last place we turn. It’s crazy to think a book with words can be the answer, but the Word of God is alive, and it cuts to the broken places and heals what we cannot.

The situation or struggle might not dissolve overnight, but we can find solace and comfort in the words He’s left for us:

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside still waters;
He restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths
for His name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
I fear no evil;
for You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff–
they comfort me.
{Psalm 23:2-4}

Today, I’m not okay. I need my soul to rest.

And there’s only one place we can find comfort, and that’s in the quiet space at His feet, where it’s okay to not be okay.

Because one day He will make everything okay.

Pain Is Beauty. Beauty Is Pain Mar 13, 2017
Show notes

Today, I walked into the salon on the property of the maternity home, funded through Mercy House Global, where the young moms get an in-depth course in hairdressing and beauty as part of the introductory vocational program. They wore matching pink shirts and professional blue aprons that said as much.

And they brightened at the “customers” (read: my family) who would help them learn on real people.

When they asked what service I wanted, I said a manicure. I left my nails unpolished since this has become a tradition when I visit. Plus, I knew they had just learned to do shellac nails and I was excited to see them in action.

But then the power went out. Because this is Africa.

They started touching my hair and I knew I was in trouble.

When the power didn’t come back on and my stylists pulled out dark brown hair extensions, I was afraid. But I sat down quickly because the chair over, they were experimenting on chemical hair relaxers. I love Jesus and all, but I’m not crazy.

When the girls started braiding the long extension into my bangs, I took a deep breath and gave myself a pep talk for the next two hours.

They say it hurts to be beautiful.

And they are right.

Because, wow. Ouch.

This week, my family is getting an up close look at the most beautiful people in the world. But beautiful people don’t just happen. As the Bob Dylan song goes, “Behind every beautiful thing, there is pain. . . ”

The most beautiful people are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.” ―Elisabeth Kugler-Ross

I cannot even begin to describe the collective horrors these young girls have experienced in their lives. It’s enough to make me weep just knowing. It’s a sorrow I carry and some days I just try to manage their trauma secondhand and I’ve only just heard their stories.

They have lived them and continue to deal with physical and emotional consequences and the effects of their pain. I think that’s why when you ask any one of the girls what their favorite class is, they almost all say salon, second to tailoring and dressmaking.

Yes, these classes introduce them to practical skills that could turn into jobs some day. But I think they love them so much because it’s a chance to feel pretty. And what girl doesn’t love that?

Their young teacher, an orphan herself, just graduated with her certificate in dressmaking and this is her first job teaching. She has less than an 8th grade education, but we saw the beauty in her pain and knew she would be a compassionate teacher. It’s beauty from ashes everywhere I look.

Pain is a part of life. And when we can open our broken hearts to God, He will heal us. Nothing about what we do at home or at Mercy House is perfect. The consequence of pain is still evident in every girl in some way–through actions and attitudes. God uses our pain and suffering–if we let Him– to remind us we are tethered to Heaven and not to earth. And when we press into it, as we have seen these girls do, instead of seeing only pain, we see beauty.

“Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world. –C.S. Lewis

So, yeah, we’ve all known our fair share of pain in the world (and I’m not just talking about a head full of braids–see below).

But if we look a little closer. We can see it.

Pain in beauty. Beauty in pain.

I mean seriously, have you ever seen a more beautiful sight?

Learn more about our work in Kenya and how we are selling loads of fair trade product every month to help sustain two maternity homes and a new transition home. If you’d like to donate towards our vocational program, there is a need for 6 more sewing machines, some cosmetology equipment and our staff dreams of beginning the process of turning the existing program into one that offers certification.

Pain Is Beauty. Beauty Is Pain Mar 13, 2017
Show notes

Today, I walked into the salon on the property of the maternity home, funded through Mercy House Global, where the young moms get an in-depth course in hairdressing and beauty as part of the introductory vocational program. They wore matching pink shirts and professional blue aprons that said as much.

And they brightened at the “customers” (read: my family) who would help them learn on real people.

When they asked what service I wanted, I said a manicure. I left my nails unpolished since this has become a tradition when I visit. Plus, I knew they had just learned to do shellac nails and I was excited to see them in action.

But then the power went out. Because this is Africa.

They started touching my hair and I knew I was in trouble.

When the power didn’t come back on and my stylists pulled out dark brown hair extensions, I was afraid. But I sat down quickly because the chair over, they were experimenting on chemical hair relaxers. I love Jesus and all, but I’m not crazy.

When the girls started braiding the long extension into my bangs, I took a deep breath and gave myself a pep talk for the next two hours.

They say it hurts to be beautiful.

And they are right.

Because, wow. Ouch.

This week, my family is getting an up close look at the most beautiful people in the world. But beautiful people don’t just happen. As the Bob Dylan song goes, “Behind every beautiful thing, there is pain. . . ”

The most beautiful people are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.” ―Elisabeth Kugler-Ross

I cannot even begin to describe the collective horrors these young girls have experienced in their lives. It’s enough to make me weep just knowing. It’s a sorrow I carry and some days I just try to manage their trauma secondhand and I’ve only just heard their stories.

They have lived them and continue to deal with physical and emotional consequences and the effects of their pain. I think that’s why when you ask any one of the girls what their favorite class is, they almost all say salon, second to tailoring and dressmaking.

Yes, these classes introduce them to practical skills that could turn into jobs some day. But I think they love them so much because it’s a chance to feel pretty. And what girl doesn’t love that?

Their young teacher, an orphan herself, just graduated with her certificate in dressmaking and this is her first job teaching. She has less than an 8th grade education, but we saw the beauty in her pain and knew she would be a compassionate teacher. It’s beauty from ashes everywhere I look.

Pain is a part of life. And when we can open our broken hearts to God, He will heal us. Nothing about what we do at home or at Mercy House is perfect. The consequence of pain is still evident in every girl in some way–through actions and attitudes. God uses our pain and suffering–if we let Him– to remind us we are tethered to Heaven and not to earth. And when we press into it, as we have seen these girls do, instead of seeing only pain, we see beauty.

“Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world. –C.S. Lewis

So, yeah, we’ve all known our fair share of pain in the world (and I’m not just talking about a head full of braids–see below).

But if we look a little closer. We can see it.

Pain in beauty. Beauty in pain.

I mean seriously, have you ever seen a more beautiful sight?

Learn more about our work in Kenya and how we are selling loads of fair trade product every month to help sustain two maternity homes and a new transition home. If you’d like to donate towards our vocational program, there is a need for 6 more sewing machines, some cosmetology equipment and our staff dreams of beginning the process of turning the existing program into one that offers certification.

unspecified-11 — The Cure If You’re Bored With Your Christian Life Nov 23, 2016
Show notes

This isn’t going to be your typical Thanksgiving Week blog post.

But since nothing about the days leading up to Thanksgiving have been average for me, let’s just go with it.

A week ago, a middle eastern man walked into our Mercy House retail store for an appointment he made with my husband and I, set up by friends at church. He works with Syrian and Iraqi refugees who have flooded his country for asylum from ISIS.

As he tried to wrap his mind around fair trade product, economic development, American consumerism and our attempt to redeem it, I could tell his mind was spinning.

Every word out of his mouth was humble as he downplayed the grave risk he takes every day to share the Gospel with Muslims. He doesn’t do it from a pulpit, but he does it by showing up at their makeshift door. Day after day.

He is living a hard life for a good purpose.

As my friend Tara, who runs No.41, a sewing co-op and feeding program for those affected by the genocide says, Because sometimes the Gospel looks like a plate of food and sometimes it looks like a job. But it always looks like showing up.

He lives in relationship with people who have been forced to leave their homes, businesses and family. It’s a sea of refugees, living in temporary homes, in limbo between governments, trapped, not knowing where they will spend the rest of their lives. They have lost everything.

He asked us not to take his picture or share his name because he could be killed since it is illegal to tell people about Jesus in his country.

By the end of the day, as we broke bread together and talked about Living Bread, we were friends. It was holy. This is work, a place, a people group, we long to join hands with and as we said our goodbyes, somehow I knew we would meet again.

Maybe that’s why when our new friend returned with a brown paper sack saying it was a gift for our family, I steadied myself. I slowly opened it and pulled out his personal red patterned keffiyeh. I held up his Arab headdress, smelled the scent of dirt and dust, humbled by a hero of the faith giving his best and I cried like a baby.

I had never felt so alive.

Two days later, I sat in a roomful of non-profit leaders at a gathering hosted by Mercy House. As I listened to another friend, this one a dear Russian friend, a refugee himself, tell his story of faith and the persecution and humiliation he endured because of it, I fought the sobs working their way out of me. His family interrupted our family’s story more than 9 years ago and the fabric of who we are and what we do has flowed from the crossroads of this relationship.

He stood in the rented beach house and told my non-profit friends, who are working in hard places around the world, his story: Imprisoned for his faith again and again. Beaten for the Gospel over and over. Isolated from his underground faith community. Family members kidnapped because he could not, no, would not, stop telling people about Jesus. Escaping to America, losing everything he possessed–his home, cars, business–everything in just 24 hours. He was forced to start over, live by faith, and he chooses every day to risk his safety and comfort to spend the rest of his life telling people about Jesus.

I can’t share his picture because it would endanger his family. But I will share his words to us, to me, to you: “Christians are bored with Christianity and their lives because they are just reading the stories in the Bible. But I don’t want to just hear the stories. I want to live them. I want to be in the epicenter of what God is doing. There are people today–in China, the Middle East, around the world, living the stories of the Bible…right now, at this moment. The cure for boredom requires us to step into spaces that are out of our control.”

And then, he urged us with these counter cultural words that I will never forget, “Do not invest your life on things you can lose in 24 hours.”

As we pause our busy lives this week to give thanks, I urge you, I implore you, I beg you to do a few things:

Give thanks for what you have. Twice this week, I’ve met people who are risking everything they have–even their lives– so that others may have Jesus, someone we take for granted.

Invest your lives in more than the American Dream. In a blink, it can disappear. Spend your life and your money helping people. It’s an eternal investment.

Refuse to live a bored Christian life. Because there are people right now losing their lives because of their Christian life.

My friends around the world are helping me rethink Thanksgiving this year. “Thanks is the new giving.” as Kristine, Director of the global Karama Collection says.

Give some today.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends.

unspecified-7 — The Cure If You’re Bored With Your Christian Life Nov 23, 2016
Show notes

This isn’t going to be your typical Thanksgiving Week blog post.

But since nothing about the days leading up to Thanksgiving have been average for me, let’s just go with it.

A week ago, a middle eastern man walked into our Mercy House retail store for an appointment he made with my husband and I, set up by friends at church. He works with Syrian and Iraqi refugees who have flooded his country for asylum from ISIS.

As he tried to wrap his mind around fair trade product, economic development, American consumerism and our attempt to redeem it, I could tell his mind was spinning.

Every word out of his mouth was humble as he downplayed the grave risk he takes every day to share the Gospel with Muslims. He doesn’t do it from a pulpit, but he does it by showing up at their makeshift door. Day after day.

He is living a hard life for a good purpose.

As my friend Tara, who runs No.41, a sewing co-op and feeding program for those affected by the genocide says, Because sometimes the Gospel looks like a plate of food and sometimes it looks like a job. But it always looks like showing up.

He lives in relationship with people who have been forced to leave their homes, businesses and family. It’s a sea of refugees, living in temporary homes, in limbo between governments, trapped, not knowing where they will spend the rest of their lives. They have lost everything.

He asked us not to take his picture or share his name because he could be killed since it is illegal to tell people about Jesus in his country.

By the end of the day, as we broke bread together and talked about Living Bread, we were friends. It was holy. This is work, a place, a people group, we long to join hands with and as we said our goodbyes, somehow I knew we would meet again.

Maybe that’s why when our new friend returned with a brown paper sack saying it was a gift for our family, I steadied myself. I slowly opened it and pulled out his personal red patterned keffiyeh. I held up his Arab headdress, smelled the scent of dirt and dust, humbled by a hero of the faith giving his best and I cried like a baby.

I had never felt so alive.

Two days later, I sat in a roomful of non-profit leaders at a gathering hosted by Mercy House. As I listened to another friend, this one a dear Russian friend, a refugee himself, tell his story of faith and the persecution and humiliation he endured because of it, I fought the sobs working their way out of me. His family interrupted our family’s story more than 9 years ago and the fabric of who we are and what we do has flowed from the crossroads of this relationship.

He stood in the rented beach house and told my non-profit friends, who are working in hard places around the world, his story: Imprisoned for his faith again and again. Beaten for the Gospel over and over. Isolated from his underground faith community. Family members kidnapped because he could not, no, would not, stop telling people about Jesus. Escaping to America, losing everything he possessed–his home, cars, business–everything in just 24 hours. He was forced to start over, live by faith, and he chooses every day to risk his safety and comfort to spend the rest of his life telling people about Jesus.

I can’t share his picture because it would endanger his family. But I will share his words to us, to me, to you: “Christians are bored with Christianity and their lives because they are just reading the stories in the Bible. But I don’t want to just hear the stories. I want to live them. I want to be in the epicenter of what God is doing. There are people today–in China, the Middle East, around the world, living the stories of the Bible…right now, at this moment. The cure for boredom requires us to step into spaces that are out of our control.”

And then, he urged us with these counter cultural words that I will never forget, “Do not invest your life on things you can lose in 24 hours.”

As we pause our busy lives this week to give thanks, I urge you, I implore you, I beg you to do a few things:

Give thanks for what you have. Twice this week, I’ve met people who are risking everything they have–even their lives– so that others may have Jesus, someone we take for granted.

Invest your lives in more than the American Dream. In a blink, it can disappear. Spend your life and your money helping people. It’s an eternal investment.

Refuse to live a bored Christian life. Because there are people right now losing their lives because of their Christian life.

My friends around the world are helping me rethink Thanksgiving this year. “Thanks is the new giving.” as Kristine, Director of the global Karama Collection says.

Give some today.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends.

dear mom at the end of her rope — Dear Mom At The End of Her Rope May 23, 2016
Show notes

She knocked on my door to drop something off and we both stood there holding more than the burden of heavy packages.

We were mothers and we were hurting for our kids.

She’s a few years ahead of me and even though her nest is empty, we shared the worry lines of motherhood. Instead of babies that wouldn’t nap and worrying over classroom bullies and parties her kids weren’t invited to, it was college internships and first jobs, apartments and young adult loneliness.

“It doesn’t end, Kristen,”she whispered.

I’m learning this truth in the motherhood school of hard knocks.

Motherhood never stays the same–it stretches us, teaches new lessons and drives us to our knees.

It’s been probably the hardest year of parenting I’ve ever endured. Or maybe it’s just because I’m good at forgetting the hard phases that have passed. Or maybe I’m just dramatic. I do know I’ve sworn off writing parenting books because bleeding out what you write leaves you anemic.

I delete emails asking me to come speak and share my parenting wisdom. Writing a parenting book breaks the “expert” in you.

There are no wild rebellions or illegal substances or all the things parents dread knocking at our door. It’s just been a season of heartbreak. Moms break when kids break. And there are a lot of loose shards to step around. I have begged God for joy and peace and wisdom in my nest.

In the depths of despair, I have clung to Jesus for my kids. I have screamed into my pillow and cried in the bathtub at my loss of control. And on those hard days, at my weakest, I’ve heard two words over and over: hold on.

And that’s what I’ve done. Because when you hold onto your Creator with everything you’ve got, you also have to let go of everything else.

I let go of fear and expectations. I let go of regret and doubt.

I held onto Jesus.

And He held onto me.

Then the most miraculous holy thing happened–it wasn’t a slow, unnoticed answer that sometimes happens in parenting when we wake up one day and realize one hard phase has ended and we catch our breath before the next one begins.

No, it was a violent, swift I AM GOD answer to prayer and the rope I’ve been clinging to and dangling from in this challenging season has lowered and for the first time in a very long time, I can feel the ground under my feet.

And now that I’m standing upright, I can see this hard season from another perspective. I can see how far I’ve grown as a mother and mostly a daughter of the King and I can see how much closer my kids have moved to Jesus (which is the goal, right?)

I cherish my children’s private lives and the story they are living as much as you do yours, but know this–I am in awe of what God has done and is doing in the hearts and lives of my kids. I have wept tears of joy and gratitude because I can see His face again.

And I only have two words to the momma reading this with the baby who won’t be put down and the teen that won’t be held and the son who needs medication to sit and the daughter who cannot get out of bed because anxiety keeps her there–HOLD ON.

This parenting thing is hard, holy work. It tears us apart and puts us together again. And as much as we love our children and sacrifice for them and want them to be okay, there is a God who wants it more.

Let go of your kids and give them to Jesus.

It’s the only way to hold onto Him with both hands.

So, momma at the end of her rope, when you don’t know what else to do…hold on.

Dear Mom At The End of Her Rope May 23, 2016
Show notes

She knocked on my door to drop something off and we both stood there holding more than the burden of heavy packages.

We were mothers and we were hurting for our kids.

She’s a few years ahead of me and even though her nest is empty, we shared the worry lines of motherhood. Instead of babies that wouldn’t nap and worrying over classroom bullies and parties her kids weren’t invited to, it was college internships and first jobs, apartments and young adult loneliness.

“It doesn’t end, Kristen,”she whispered.

I’m learning this truth in the motherhood school of hard knocks.

Motherhood never stays the same–it stretches us, teaches new lessons and drives us to our knees.

It’s been probably the hardest year of parenting I’ve ever endured. Or maybe it’s just because I’m good at forgetting the hard phases that have passed. Or maybe I’m just dramatic. I do know I’ve sworn off writing parenting books because bleeding out what you write leaves you anemic.

I delete emails asking me to come speak and share my parenting wisdom. Writing a parenting book breaks the “expert” in you.

There are no wild rebellions or illegal substances or all the things parents dread knocking at our door. It’s just been a season of heartbreak. Moms break when kids break. And there are a lot of loose shards to step around. I have begged God for joy and peace and wisdom in my nest.

In the depths of despair, I have clung to Jesus for my kids. I have screamed into my pillow and cried in the bathtub at my loss of control. And on those hard days, at my weakest, I’ve heard two words over and over: hold on.

And that’s what I’ve done. Because when you hold onto your Creator with everything you’ve got, you also have to let go of everything else.

I let go of fear and expectations. I let go of regret and doubt.

I held onto Jesus.

And He held onto me.

Then the most miraculous holy thing happened–it wasn’t a slow, unnoticed answer that sometimes happens in parenting when we wake up one day and realize one hard phase has ended and we catch our breath before the next one begins.

No, it was a violent, swift I AM GOD answer to prayer and the rope I’ve been clinging to and dangling from in this challenging season has lowered and for the first time in a very long time, I can feel the ground under my feet.

And now that I’m standing upright, I can see this hard season from another perspective. I can see how far I’ve grown as a mother and mostly a daughter of the King and I can see how much closer my kids have moved to Jesus (which is the goal, right?)

I cherish my children’s private lives and the story they are living as much as you do yours, but know this–I am in awe of what God has done and is doing in the hearts and lives of my kids. I have wept tears of joy and gratitude because I can see His face again.

And I only have two words to the momma reading this with the baby who won’t be put down and the teen that won’t be held and the son who needs medication to sit and the daughter who cannot get out of bed because anxiety keeps her there–HOLD ON.

This parenting thing is hard, holy work. It tears us apart and puts us together again. And as much as we love our children and sacrifice for them and want them to be okay, there is a God who wants it more.

Let go of your kids and give them to Jesus.

It’s the only way to hold onto Him with both hands.

So, momma at the end of her rope, when you don’t know what else to do…hold on.

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