“Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.” — Exodus 20:8

What if resting was actually a form of obedience… and a doorway to joy? When you think of Sabbath, what comes to mind? Going to church? The Ten Commandments? Religious, rigid rules? Or freedom?

Sabbath is God’s gift! The Hebrew word Shabbat means to stop, to cease, and in that pause, something beautiful begins. God designed it for relationship, with Him, and with the people He places in our lives. And I know this might make some of us squirm a little, but Sabbath isn’t just about going to church or checking a box like your Sunday School envelope. It’s about slowing down, breathing, and delighting in God, and enjoying the people He’s placed in your life. It’s a chance to step off the endless treadmill and experience rest and joy exactly as God intended.

As a goal-setter, a planner, a reader of motivational books, this concept has truly turned my world upside down. It flies in the face of the “work harder, do more, achieve more” mindset. That way of thinking, 24/7, for years, is exhausting. As a pastor’s wife, there are endless things I could be doing, events to be planning, lessons to be studied for, people I could be visiting, social media I could be investing in. And yet, I’m learning that God never intended life to be lived this way ALL. THE. TIME. (Real relationships aren’t built like that anyway…another devotion for another day!😉 I digress…)

As I’m learning to practice Sabbath, I find that it restores me spiritually, emotionally, mentally, and even physically. It’s not just about stopping work, it’s about delighting in God, sharing meals, laughter, and conversation with family and friends, and remembering that rest is part of God’s ORIGINAL design.

For me, Sabbath is very rarely on Sunday. Find the rhythm that works for you to cease from labor and enjoy God.

So here’s the challenge if you’re up to it. This week, set aside even a few hours as your Sabbath. Turn off your to-do list, put your phone down, enjoy a meal with family or friends, laugh, pray, and watch how God shows up when you intentionally stop and delight in Him.

As I write this my head and my heart don’t want to be here.  I’m at home, but I want to be at the nursing home where my dad now lives out his last days in hospice.  We’ve had a tough autumn, my family and I.  We lost my middle brother suddenly in September, and this December my dad fell ill and we are now at the end of his earthly journey. In the wise words of my good friend Kristin, “you’re doing a lot of hard this Christmas season.”  Yep, lots of hard.

But throughout this hard season I’ve come to notice things, both big and small, that I can only describe as “God winks.”  Good news in a maelstrom of bad.

My late brother and I were estranged, so losing him was just the weirdest experience.  My mom is heartbroken – no parent should EVER have to bury a child, even a grown child.  I had to let him go several years ago so, in reality, he already felt gone to me.  Picking up the pieces after his death and planning his memorial service was almost like an out-of-body experience for me – he was my brother but he’d become someone I simply did not know anymore.  But what came after his death could only be described as God placing people in my life whom I needed to know to better understand my brother. He had friends and “framily” who loved him, and this gives me more comfort than I can describe. What could have been an awful experience turned into meeting some of the best people I’ve ever met, having some of the best conversations I’ve ever had, and seeing a completely different side of the brother I lost years ago. 

Isaiah 30:21 says“Your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it.’”  Okay, God, I see what You did there.  I see You, and I hear You.  God Wink #1.

The situation with Dad has been its own kind of hard.   If you know me at all then you know my Dad has advanced Alzheimers/Dementia plus a bad heart.  Mom has been his sole caregiver since we noticed the signs several years ago.  Imagine losing your son, then almost like clockwork your husband seemingly goes on a hunger strike.  The reality of Alzheimers/Dementia patients is that they can be very sick but they don’t know the words to say they’re sick or how to articulate their symptoms.  After weeks of declining vitals and no real answers, Dad was sent to the hospital and then, through a series of unfortunate events, to skilled nursing. One of the very first people we met in the nursing facility is a nurse who is also a full-time caregiver to her spouse, who is disabled.  She is basically a mirror of what mom does on the daily.  The very first thing she says to Mom is “you are his wife, we are his caregivers.  We got him and we won’t let anything happen to him.  You need to rest and take care of YOU so that you can be here with him.”  What are the odds that we meet this nurse at this exact time? No odds necessary. I see what God did there.  God Wink #2.

And so it continues.  The month of December was quite possibly the hardest month of my life, but during that brutal time I noticed lots of things and people God put in my path to send a message.

• The CNA whom my father adores (who loves him right back) and who can get him to eat and go to the dining room to watch a little TV or have some social interaction, who goes above and beyond to keep him looking clean and sharp. A literal angel.
• The nurses who park Dad at the nurse’s station to keep a close eye on him and give him comfort when he’s restless.
• The lady who’s husband is in the room next door to Dad, who grew up down the road from us and whom mom has known most of her adult life, who has become a lifeline to all of us to help us navigate the systems we’ve been thrown into.
• The hospice case manager who also volunteers with the ladies at Collier Park and now has added mom to her “roster” to check on and visit.
• The friends and family who, upon finding out both about my brother and about Dad, have reached out to Mom, Doyle or I to check in, provide comfort, or just be a listening ear.

And finally, the beautiful cashier at Jason’s Deli who remarked to me about how speedy and spry Mom is with her walker, whom I ran into again at the grocery store and she said “You love your Mom.  I can tell.  You’re doing good by her.”  Oh my goodness, she has no idea how much that sentence was needed that day because I’ve questioned my own judgement EVERY  SINGLE DAY since Dad went into this facility.  Watching your parents age is hard, but hospice is the absolute hardest thing any of my family has ever done. Moving to end-of-life, palliative care is the ultimate double-edged sword. I know it’s the right thing, but the finality of it shakes me to my very core. And yet, there is peace.  I feel it all around me daily.

But throughout it all – God.  

When my thoughts waiver – God.  

When I need uplifting – God.  

When Mom needs reassurance – God.  

When we need all the things – God.

“And let it be, when these signs come to you, that you do as the occasion demands; for God is with you.” 1 Samuel 10:7 

Let it be.  Do as the occasion commands.  God is with you.  Look for the God winks.  He is everywhere.

All the Christmas is almost put away, and I am so proud of myself. 

Probably not for the reason you’re thinking. 

I’m proud of myself self because I’m not sad this year, and I usually I am. Like really sad. 

I love Christmas. 

I love the build up. The traditions. The outfits. The family time. I love the colors and the nostalgia and silently sipping coffee by the soft light of my tree. I love Jesus and celebrating Him. 

I love it all. 

So when it’s over, I’m sad. 

But not this year. 

This year I’m excited. I have such a strong anticipation of what the Lord is going to do this coming year. 

2026 💛

I can feel it. A strong stirring in my spirit. Eeeeekkkk!!! 

I’m not sure what you’re feeling, but I do pray that you are excited to hang out with God. Let

Him be your best friend. Spend time with Him daily. 

Let Him guide you through 2026. 

Hand in Hand. 

“Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.” Psalm 119:105

When my husband and I got married, I really believed happiness was just one milestone away. When we build a house, I’ll be happy. When we have babies, that will do it. I was always waiting for something or someone to fulfill my happiness. 

After my third baby, postpartum hit me hard. I had no coping mechanisms. I remember laying in bed all day and night, unable to move. My husband would flip the mattress over in the mornings so I would have to physically get out of bed. I finally went to see a psychiatrist, desperate for relief. I walked out with a prescription for Xanax—and I couldn’t believe how fast it changed everything. My mood. My thoughts. My ability to function. I thought this doctor was amazing.

At my next appointment, she added Adderall.

I was shocked at how quickly a couple of pills could “fix” everything I was feeling. I had barely taken medication before, so abusing it never even crossed my mind. We were a good, church-going family. Addicts were people you saw under bridges or in trap houses—not someone like me.

But my life started to spiral fast.

What I learned the hard way is that I am not above anyone. And I very much was an addict. Even saying that word made me cringe.

I did 120 days in rehab—against my will. I truly believed I had just gotten out of control and now I was fine. I thought the love I had for my children would be enough to keep me sober.

It wasn’t.

Since 2021, I’ve had multiple attempts at sobriety. Each one came with more shame. I would look at my sweet babies’ faces and think, How can I love them this much and still not stay sober?

I remember going to AA meetings just to make my husband happy. I’d sit in the very back with a hat pulled down, hoping no one would notice me. At one of those first meetings, I met my sponsor. She gave me her number—and I threw it away on my way out the door.

After one of my many relapses, I finally tried the sponsor idea. She felt different. She felt steady. She became the one person I knew would still be there after every failure. She never gave up on me, even when I gave up on myself.

Addiction is a disease, and one of the cruelest parts is that it convinces you that you don’t have one. That’s hard for normal people to understand. It’s still hard for me to accept.

I carry so much shame and guilt. This isn’t how my life was supposed to go. I was going to be the mom who was always there. Now I sit with my older kids and sometimes don’t even know what to talk about, because I haven’t been present in their lives the way I wanted to be.

I am having to learn that my kids, my husband, and my sponsor are never going to be able to keep me sober. I love them more than anything—but love didn’t save me.

When my husband made me leave, I felt shattered. Now I wake up alone in a one-bedroom apartment, and some mornings I still can’t believe this is my life. The silence is loud. The reality is heavy. I am a broken woman.

And this is where God keeps meeting me—right in my need to control everything.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”

Proverbs 3:5–6

I am learning that submission doesn’t mean giving up—it means letting go. Letting go of how I think my marriage should look, how motherhood should feel right now, and how fast healing should happen. I keep trying to take control back, and God keeps asking me to release it again.

Sometimes I surrender the same things over and over in one day.

Coming to terms with being powerless over my addiction has been humbling and painful. I have hurt the people I love the most—my babies and my husband. There are days the grief feels unbearable. Days I wonder if anything can be restored.

The answer I keep coming back to is surrender.

I hold tight to the belief that God is in the restoration business. That He can take the most broken, impossible situations and work them for His good—even when I can’t see it yet.

I am not healed.

I am not fixed.

But today, I am sober.

And today, I choose to trust God with the outcome.