I’m starting something new on the blog this week. Typically, I post stand-alone blog posts, stories, or recipes, but sometimes there are topics I want to look at more thoroughly, but they can’t be covered in one post. So, I’m excited to be launching a blog post series on the book of James.

Back in January, I started studying James, and now eight months later I’m still in it. It’s only five chapters long, but it’s such a beautiful, practical book. Tim Mackie called it, “a beautifully crafted punch in the gut.” I think that’s pretty accurate.

For many of us, saying grace can easily become trite and meaningless. But prayer before our meals is not just “something we do” as Christians. Instead, it’s a way to acknowledge our need and God’s provision—provision for our daily bread and provision as the Bread of Life.

I ate a bowl of leftover cheese crackers for breakfast. I didn’t feel like making food for myself when the kids ate in the morning, but then when 10am rolled around, I couldn’t help but forage for snack leftovers. Then my kids barely touched their lunch, so their cold quesadillas would be mine. No matter. I like their kid food, to be honest, and I don’t want anything to go to waste. But by dinnertime, I’m ready for something a bit more grown up.

Every night before my husband and I go to bed, we tiptoe into our kids’ rooms. We give them one last kiss, and then we straighten out their blankets and tuck the covers around them. And every single night since the twins were babies, I’ve put my hand on their backs, leaned in close, and listened for the sound of their breathing.

The habit started out of fear. For months after we brought our tiny newborns home from the hospital, I’d check on them incessantly. I’d pick them up, smell their sweet skin, and watch their chest rise and fall as they inhaled and exhaled. I needed to hold them just one more time before collapsing into my own bed for a few hours. My husband reassured me regularly, “They’re okay. They’re going to be okay,” and I knew—most likely—he was right. At the time, I didn’t think I was being an anxious parent, but looking back, I can see how fearful I really was—and often still am.

One minute, we grab sugar and flour from the pantry to bake away our feelings. Hours later, we vow to detox from carbs for a month. At dinner, we laugh with our kids around the table. As we gather empty plates and load the dishwasher, we find ourselves yelling at everyone to just stop yelling.

Maybe some nights we think, “We’re okay. This is hard, but we’ll get through it.” The next, we’re huddled in the bathroom, hiding the sounds of our sobs and the sight of our tears.

At times we feel so sure that God is in control. Then a news headline hits, and we shake our head at him and ask, “Really? You sure you’ve got this?”

I sit in my office upstairs as my youngest rolls trucks around his room and presses buttons on an electronic book. He’s dropped his nap over a year earlier than my other two kids. I’m not ready. So just like with his older siblings, I tell him he doesn’t have to sleep, but we’re going to have quiet time. He needs to rest. I also explain that it’s Mommy’s quiet time, too. I’m not shy about this.

I settle into my chair, a blanket pulled over my lap, coffee at the ready, and a book in hand. His calls begin.

Growing up in a Christian home, we prayed regularly before meals. Sometimes the practice felt more meaningful, like before a Thanksgiving feast or on Easter Sunday as we focused on all we had been given. Other times, the mealtime prayer has been one I’ve struggled to utter: I didn’t really want to thank God for breakfast the morning my mom died. But most days, prayer before meals dwindles to a quick sentence said in a rush, one that grants permission to finally eat.

For many of us, saying grace can easily become trite and meaningless. But prayer before our meals is not just “something we do” as Christians. Instead, it’s a way to acknowledge our need and God’s provision—provision for our daily bread and provision as the Bread of Life.

Need some dinner inspiration? I’ve got 6 easy dinner ideas that only require a few ingredients—many of which you probably already have in your pantry! And there are recipes for every diet, including keto, vegan, or Whole30!

Back in January, I decided my word for the year would be “hope.” 2019 was a challenging year personally—mostly internally as I battled depression. As the year came to a close, I welcomed the fresh start that came with a new year and a new decade. And only a quarter of the way through 2020, I think many of us are ready for 2021.

This year has been nothing like we expected, but the idea of hope seems more relevant than ever. There’s loss and grief all around, and the world is longing for healing, restoration, encouragement, change. We’ve always needed those things, of course, but it seems like many of us actually recognize that need more than we used to. We used to think we were in control or we could figure life out. At least I thought that. But yet again, God is teaching me that I am not in control—and that’s a good thing. He’s teaching me that hope doesn’t depend on my ability to navigate my circumstances or on how well I can figure things out and solve problems.

I walked into the restaurant, my pregnant belly arriving minutes before the rest of me. “Multiples group?” I asked the hostess. She led me toward the corner where a few tables were pushed together and about ten moms sat around chatting.

It was my first time meeting most of the women there. I had just joined the group shortly after finding out I had two little ones on the way. A few other twin mamas I knew suggested getting plugged into a moms of multiples group, and, to be honest, I was skeptical. I had a strong community around me, family who lived nearby, and plenty of other mom friends. But I agreed to check it out.

Think positive. Hope for the best. It’ll all work out.

I read tweets and Instagram posts with those kinds of phrases, and the cynic in me shakes my head. The optimism can be helpful at times, I suppose. At the very least, those words reveal our craving for hope. We long for something different than the brokenness we see around us. But those phrases are like candy. They may perk us up for a moment, but they will never sustain.

Other times we hear verses recited like, “All things work together for good” (Romans 8:28). We know that message is true, and we believe it. But at the moment phrases like, “Woe to me!”[1] or “Out of the depths I cry!”[2] feel more accurate to the stirrings of our souls. We wish we could tie our sad stories up in a bow, find a solution, or tack on a happy ending. But grief, pain, loss, fear, and heartache cling to us like a snare, and for many of us, cries of distress are all we can utter.

We’re in some crazy times, aren’t we? I’ve been addicted to reading the news, fighting anxiety, and struggling to focus. It’s easy to grow more discouraged and weary, and I think we have to actively battle that by finding things that nourish our souls.

Here are a few ideas and resources I’ve collected this week. I hope they’re helpful, and I pray we can all remember that God is still good even in the chaos.

I'm not really sure what to do, how to think, or what to say these days. But if nothing else, this season of chaos has pushed me to my knees. And that's a really good place to be.

I wrote down some things I've been praying for this week, and as long as my list has gotten, I know it's still not comprehensive. But I'm offering what I can in this post today.

Lord, have mercy.