2017: The year I quit Facebook

I am deleting my Facebook account for all of 2017.

There. I said it. (Now I guess I have to do it.)

How is it, that something that didn't even exist for 3/4 of my life can influence me so much? How is it, that I can wake up in an incredible, tackle-the-day, self-confident, and thankful mood and yet within seconds of being on Facebook that mood can come to a screeching halt?

So much of this post is painstakingly embarrassing for me. Mostly because I cannot believe that I allow people I do not even know to influence my day-to-day life so much. Even more so, I am horrified by how much of a detriment Facebook is to my life and how long it has taken me to realize that.

Now, before I go any further, I want to clarify that this is my personal struggle with Facebook. There are many, many people who can use Facebook well and have it not influence their lives and spiritual walks. As you may be gathering, I am not one of those people.

You also may be thinking, "Deleting your Facebook for a whole year is a little dramatic." You're right. It's extreme. However, when you have an addictive personality like mine, a year might not be enough. (I also am a person that thrives on deadlines and goals, so this challenge resonates well with me.)

Let me also clarify that Facebook is not a bad thing in and of itself. It connects lost friendships, it unites people together under noble causes, and it enables my friends and family who live far away to keep up with our growing family.

But ,Facebook also makes me doubt myself. Facebook makes me insecure about my life, my marriage, my body and sometimes, my beliefs. Facebook makes me unbelievably angry and judgmental. Facebook makes me burn with jealousy, greed and envy. Facebook makes me crave other people's praise and approval. Facebook makes me think that I am not enough; I need to be smarter, prettier, fitter, richer. And the list never ends.

And the worst part is, I say things and post things on Facebook that make others feel these same exact things.

Any and all good things can become bad things when abused and over-invested in. And that is where I stand with Facebook. I have allowed Facebook to become too large a part of my life. I have allowed others opinions of me become what drives me. I have allowed Facebook to morph my perception of what is real and I have replaced that with unobtainable expectations.

Most importantly, Facebook has damaged my relationship with God. Facebook has caused me to question Him more than I ought. Facebook has caused me to doubt His choices for me. Facebook has caused me to believe it over the promises and truths He tells me in His Word. Facebook has caused me to grumble, complain and be down right ungrateful. And ultimately, Facebook has caused me to see myself in its image (and the opinions of others) rather than the image of my Creator.

And that, my friends, is the exact definition of an idol. Not to mention, a painfully accurate representation of something good being turned into something sinful. Satan will use anything to keep us under his thumb and he preys on our unawareness of the snares he is using.

“Indeed the safest road to Hell is the gradual one--the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts,...Your affectionate uncle, Screwtape.” C.S. Lewis

Examine yourselves, examine your habits, examine your thoughts and examine your hearts. Be always aware, always on guard and always prepared to confront your idols. Most importantly, remain constant in prayer and petition to the Lord to reveal the gentle slope that you have been descending.

Until we meet again, Facebook.

The Fear That So Easily Entangles

I'm sitting at my desk at work, alone in the office, and my chest feels like it is going to burst as the air seems to be cut off from my lungs. Somehow, I am able to hold the tears at bay that are threatening to spill over. After a few minutes, and some sharp breaths, I feel my heart rate begin to lower and I feel myself coming back from the ledge. The ledge that I so desperately try to ignore until I am dangling over the edge. 

Since going back to work a couple of years ago, I have struggled greatly with the fear of losing my children. I wish I could say the fear is a simple fear of not wanting to live without them. However, this fear that knocks the air straight out of me at times, is so much deeper. Unkept fears, like weeds that are allowed to roam free, slowly crawl over every surface of life that surrounds them. They stretch over my heart, embedding themselves in every facet of my life until it is hard to see where fear ends and reality begins. 

When Levi was first born, this fear was so simplistic: I loved my son greatly and I did not want to lose him. However, as the years have gone by, this fear has grown, and implanted, and stretched, and devoured. I fear losing my children. I fear my children suffering. I fear that I will lose my children because I was unable to save them. I fear that my children will die from something I could have prevented. I fear my children will die and their last thought will be "Why is my mom not here to help me?" I fear my children will die without knowing that I love them.

And, my darkest fear, I fear my children will die without ever knowing Jesus. 

One of the hardest things I have stomaching about Levi's Autism is being unsure about what he comprehends and what he does not. I am very confident that he understands little things such as "All done" and "Do you want to watch Chuggington". However, when it comes to things deeper, like "That makes Mommy sad" or "I love you", he shows no signs of even vaguely comprehending what those things mean. And that is like pouring gasoline on an already raging fire. 

Although I had a more simplistic form of this fear when Levi was young, it didn't really start morphing until I went back to work full time a couple of years ago. There is just something about not being with your kids all day and not really knowing what is going on with them that makes little fears become big ones. It also makes you realize that as a mom, you think you can protect your child 100% better than anyone else (sometimes Dad included *cringe*). And lets be honest here, a lot of times, deep down, we think we can protect our child better than God (quadruple *cringe*). Although I would like to fight tooth and nail and SAY that isn't true, my fears and my actions say otherwise. 

Suddenly, my idolatry of my children has now morphed into my idolatry of my children AND my idolatry of control. I alone can save my kids. I alone can protect them. I alone am all they need. And out of those two very weighty idols, sprouts a never ending fountain of fear and anxiety. And out of these idols and fears and anxieties, comes a fast and furious stream of guilt and failure when (surprise) I fall short. Guilt because I am not with my children during the day and therefore, cannot protect them. Guilt because I was not able to protect Levi from Autism, nor will I be able to protect him from it in the future. Guilt because I don't always do a great job at showing my children that I love them. 

And the cycle goes on, growing deeper and darker with every turn until I find myself here, years later, drowning in a sea of guilt and anxiety, but too paralyzed by fear to take that breath of air that I so desperately need. And because of that, what once was just a small, single brick of fear, has now become a tower. 

How did I get here? How did I get to be so crippled by fear when I use to have such a deep trust in the Lord? 

I got here because I have spent close to 2 plus years living with unconfessed sin. I have spent 2 years justifying that the fear of losing my children is completely normal and okay. Is this initial fear normal? Sure. But what I chose to do with that fear is sinful. 

That is how I got here. Now where do I go from here? What then, moms (and dads), are we to do with this fear?

1. Confess these fears to God and continue to confess them AS OFTEN AS THEY APPEAR. Ask him to show you the underlying idols that cause your fears. 

Proverbs 28:13 "Whoever conceals their sin does not prosper, but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy."

2. Confess these fears to a friend or confidant. Bringing sin to light simultaneously kicks Satan in the teeth AND gives you person to pray alongside of you and keep you accountable. 

James 5:16 Therefore, confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.

3. Battle your fears with scripture and with the promises of the Lord. 

Matthew 6:34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble or its own. 

Psalm 34:4 I sought the Lord and He answered me; He delivered me from all my fears...The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him and He delivers them. 

1 Peter 5:6-7 Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that He may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you. 

4. Let your fears play out. 

Now this last point is more my own personal advice because it is something that has helped me. So many of our fears lie within the unknowns (i.e. How will I go on without my child/husband/parent?) So, for a few minutes, let that fear play itself out. For instance, my fear of losing my children. So what if that does happen? How will I feel? How will I ever go on? Take that scenario and repeat step 3:

I will go on because the Lord will uphold me (Isaiah 41:10). I will be crushed and struck down, but not destroyed (2 Cor. 4:9). I will be unbearably sad, but there will be a day when the Lord will wipe every tear. Even though I may never understand, the Lord is working for good (Romans 8:28). The Lord goes before me and the Lord goes with me (Deuteronomy 31:6). 

Does this mean that your fears are going to disappear? No. Rather, as you slowly build a tower of truth, brick by brick of confession and biblical promises, that tower of fear will disappear. Not because it is no longer there, but because it will become eclipsed by truth, promises, and the glory of the Lord.

Philippians 3:12 Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. 

Happy First Birthday, Lucas

They always say that time goes by faster which each child, and I cannot express how true that it. The past year has flown by, sweet Lucas, and I cannot believe that you are already a year old. At the same time, I also cannot believe you are ONLY a year old (mamas you feel me). 

The night before you were born, I cried as I rocked your brother to sleep because I didn't think I would ever be able love you as much as I loved Levi (#hormones). A few weeks after you were born, I could only laugh because OF COURSE I loved you just as big. Actually, you were born looking so much like you brother (and weighing exactly the same), that I kept wondering if we had some how fallen back to 2013. But then I quickly remembered that I had only had to do 12 hours of labor, as opposed to the 24+ with your brother, and I was brought back to the present (For that, I will always love you a little bit more. Kidding....maybe). The day you were born was peaceful up until the moment you suddenly decided you were ready to appear. So suddenly, in fact, that things were thrown around the room, your grandmother had to page for Dr. Thorne, and your grandfather wasn't even at the hospital because he had left to run an errand. 

Your birth and the weeks to follow were a beautiful time of healing for my heart. My labor with Levi was HARD, my recovery was even harder, and the months of colic that followed felt unbearable at times. Since becoming a mom the first time, I constantly felt insecure and questioned every parenting decision I made. I lived, breathed, and dreamed about failure. What am I doing wrong? Why does my baby never stop crying? Why do other moms disqualify my labor just because after 17 hours I decided to get an epidural (for the love)? 

Fast forward a year and we were pregnant again! After trying for well over a year to get pregnant with you brother and using fertility medications, we were ecstatic to be pregnant so quickly on our own. Unfortunately, a week later, we miscarried. 

....And then we miscarried again. 

Not long after our second miscarriage, our pediatrician sat us down and voiced his concerns about your brother's development. Fast forward through a few dark, trying months, and we found out your brother had Autism. We also found out that you would have a 30% chance of having Autism, too. If I hadn't felt the weight of darkness and wandering in the desert before, I certainly did during these months. 

Now, this probably seems like the most depressing birthday post you've ever heard. (And one day, when you read this, you will probably be annoyed that I keep referencing Levi so much in YOUR birthday post.) However, I tell you these things so that you can understand the depth of how you have impacted my life. 

In a year when it seemed like the darkness would never end, the Lord saw fit to drop mana from heaven in the form of a sweet, 6.13 pound little boy with dimples and a faux-hawk. 

In a year where all I felt was failure surrounding me, the Lord used you to remind me that my weaknesses are where God's power shines through.

In a year where I felt so overwhelmed by therapies, doctor appointments, and work, you appeared and reminded me of how temporary and trivial those trials truly are. 

Lucas, you were the salve we so desperately needed and we are so thankful that the Lord chose you to help heal our wounds. 

You are sweet. Oh so sweet. You have been giving hugs since you were 6 months old. And I don't mean the "i'll lean into you just to get you to stop asking me" hug. I mean you wrap your arms around my neck as if you will never let go. 

You are funny. You have kept our family consistently laughing with your "scrunchie face" and your old man chuckle. 

You are resilient. You have been hit by your brother, stepped on by the dog, fallen off furniture, and have sneakily eaten almost an entire bag of dog food over time and you are still alive and happy. (Parenting for the win?)

You are feisty. You have learned that you can defend yourself against your older brother by simply biting him until he leaves you alone. Not exactly the approach I would like, but hey, i'm proud you are at least sticking up for yourself.

You are pretty. Yes, pretty. I have lost count of how many "Oh what a pretty little girl you have!" I have received since you were born. I think its because of your big blue eyes and long lashes. The ladies will love that one day, so don't you worry. Actually, false. They will hate it. You are never dating. Ever. 

You are sweet and loud and giggly and flirtatious and fearless and busy. You are our perfect gift from the Lord and we love you so!

Now don't get any older, okay?

Love, Momma 

Autism: One Year Later

One year.

One year, 5 doctors, 132 therapy visits, 1 billion trillion melt-downs (approximately), 5 signs, 4 consistent words, 2 very tired parents, and one sweet, sweet voice that we are finally getting to hear.

One year ago today, Levi was diagnosed with Autism. One year ago today, I was sure we would not survive until today (Apparently, one year ago today I was a little overdramatic).

One year ago today, I remember crying to my mom in Chick-fil-a that I was so scared Levi would grow up and never have friends. And I mean, real friends; not friends who are only nice to him because their parents made them. One year later, and that is still a fear that stays at the forefront of my heart.

 

New Noise-Cancelling Headphones!

We have learned so much in the past year: things about Levi, things about Autism, things about genetics, and a whole list of new bad words to describe health insurance coverage or lack thereof.

Most importantly, I have learned a lot about God. In the past year, I have questioned, doubted, and accused more than I ever have in my life. Now, not all of this has come because of Levi’s diagnoses. A lot of it has spurred from watching people around me walk through deep, deep caverns of suffering. Some of it has come from waking up daily to the crushing reality of living in a fallen world.

However, Levi’s diagnosis was the first toppled domino that set it all into motion. I recently read a quote from New York Times Bestseller that said: “[Suffering] does not change you. It reveals you.” How painfully true I have found that quote to be. I’m fairly certain the questions, the accusations, and the doubts have always been there; shamefully hidden from even my own view. Hidden, because for some reason we have it in our minds that questions and doubts negate our faith completely. But in reality, these extremely low moments have only made my faith stronger, my trust greater, and my humility deeper. That is what moments (or years) of weakness do. They make way for the power of God as they slowly chip away the power of ME.

So what have I learned this year?

I have learned that I am a really, really terrible mom. In this initial post about autism, I wrote that I didn’t know how often I would lose my patience with Levi. Well, a year later, and I still can’t tell you how often because I just can’t count that high. I have been impatient. I have yelled (both at Levi and the ceiling/floor/air/etc.). I haven’t tried to understand him nearly as often as I should.

I have learned that I don’t fully love a lot of people in my life because I am too busy being jealous and envious of their lives. Jealous that they can enjoy the beach with their children. Jealous that they can leave their kids in the same room together without worrying about what the older will do to the younger. Jealous that they can stay home with their kids because they aren’t having to work to pay for therapies and doctors visits. How do you love your friends when you are secretly feeling these things? You don’t. That’s the problem with jealousy.

I have learned that I still expect Levi to act “normal” and I am sorely disappointed when SURPRISE, he doesn’t. I have learned that I can get really angry with God. I have learned that I care way too much about what people think of me. I have learned that I am WAY too quick to forget blessings and answered prayers. I have learned that I in no way put God first in my life. I have learned the hard way that I absolutely cannot do anything, say anything, be anything, without the Lord.

And that is the beauty in the ashes.

That is why I am so thankful for autism, for this past year, for my questions, my doubts and my desperately dark moments.

I absolutely cannot do anything, say anything, be anything, without the Lord.

That is why James says “Count it ALL joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds,” because the pearls of truth that are found amidst the temporary trials are eternally worth it.

So when I stare down this dauntless path of raising a special needs child, I will remember that this is light and momentary. When my heart aches for Levi and the hardships he is and will endure, I will remember that his earthly condition is just that- earthly. When the end of the day comes and I am so weary and defeated, I will remember that the Lord said to me “I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you…” (Isaiah 41:10).

And when, in moments of weakness, I am tempted to beg away the hardships, I will remember that “blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life” (James 1:12).

And that crown of life is what makes this a joyful journey. Not always a pretty one, not always a easy one, and definitely not always a Christ-like one; but a journey that is undeniably worth it.

Walk With Me

“Levi can’t move up with his class.”

It was April of last year, and Levi’s preschool teacher has just delivered the news that no parent wants to hear. At the time, Levi was 20 months and had been in the 1 year old class at school. In the fall, we had hopes of moving Levi up to the 2 year old class with his peers. However, even at that early time, Levi was already experiencing some pretty significant developmental delays as he could not walk, talk, or communicate in any way. Not only did he lack all verbal and nonverbal communication, but Levi also did not understand any words, commands, or questions that were said to him.

Although we completely understood and respected the school’s position (Lucas is enrolled at this preschool in the fall because we LOVE them), we were crushed, confused and slightly panicked about the future. Up until this point, I had been taking Levi to therapy twice a week before I would drop him off at school and go to work. Because successful therapy happens with consistency and repetition, Levi was making absolutely no progress. Between both Mitch and I working full time and Levi’s school not having the time, resources, or knowledge to work on his therapy, the consistency and repetition just weren’t present. We struggled daily between the desire to help our son and the lack of resources and knowledge to enable us to help him.

That summer, after Levi’s official diagnoses, we had a friend approach us about Easter Seals. Mitch and I knew very little about Easter Seals, but we called and made an appointment anyways. For those who are unfamiliar, Easter Seals is nonprofit, community-based agency that assists more than one million children and adults with disabilities and their families annually. They provide services, education, outreach, and advocacy so that people living with autism and other disabilities can live, learn, work and play in our communities. Just a few of the amazing things they offer are:

-       Medical Rehabilitation

-       Child Care

-       Early Intervention

-       Speech, Physical, and Occupational Therapy ON SITE

-       Adult Day Services

Needless to say, we were very nervous about sending our nonverbal child somewhere new, but Easter Seals was able to offer Levi so much more than any other place we had researched. Therefore, in August of 2015 Levi started attending Easter Seals.

No words. No gestures. No sign language. No sounds. No peer interaction. No mimicking. No walking up or down stairs. No running without falling. No understanding of any words, commandments, or questions. Easily angered. Frustrated. These were the things that described Levi’s development when he entered Easter Seals. At 2 years old, Levi was measuring at the social & communication level of a 9-10 month old. Needless to say, Easter Seals had their work cut out for them!

For the past 10 months, Levi has attended Easter Seals full time. In a typical week, he receives speech and occupational therapy, as well as physical therapy twice a month. His teachers and therapists communicate weekly about new goals for Levi to be working on while he is in class and at home. Furthermore, his teachers work tirelessly on his sign language, words, sounds, sharing, gestures, and self-help skills. I will NEVER be able to put into words how much his two teachers mean to us for the love and dedication that have put into a child that is not their own.

Signing. Pointing. Walking. Running. Interacting with peers. Trying new foods. Understanding words. Saying Words. Happy.

Not even a year later, and these are the words and phrases we are able to use about our son. This time last year we were told he might never talk. However, today, he can say not just one word, but almost TEN different words. Today, he can run without falling every few seconds. Today, he will actually interact with his cousins. Today, he will say “Wove you” as we put him to bed.

And it is all because of Easter Seals. Because they see value and potential where the world does not. Because they believed that Levi could reach a higher potential and they would not and will not stop until he reaches it.

We are so incredibly thankful that the Lord decided to use Easter Seals to answer so many of our prayers and we will forever be indebted to them for the love and effort they have put into helping Levi and our family.

If you are interested in learning more about Easter Seals, please visit:

Easter Seals West Georgia

If you are interested in making a donation to Easter Seals Walk with Me (all donations directly benefit Easter Seals clients), please visit our team page: 

Easter Seals' Walk With Me: Team Levi

What I Didn't Know About Autism {Autism Awareness Month}

This time last year, I knew very little about Autism. I knew that Max on the TV show Parenthood had Autism. I knew that some people thought vaccines caused Autism (which I now know is NOT true). I knew that April was Autism Awareness Month and that April 2nd was World Autism Day. I knew that Levi's doctors and therapists speculated that he had Autism. And I knew, deep in the back of my mind, that they were right.

I "knew" that Autism was scary. I "knew" that Autism was awkward. I "knew" that Autism was violent. And I "knew" that Autism was never, ever what I wanted for my family.

Fast forward to today, a year later, and let me share what I know now:

I didn't know Autism at all. 

Autism is observant; reveling in the small, intricate details of life that the rest of us never stop to treasure.

Autism is dedicated; working 10 times harder and 10 times longer than everyone else for each new skill and accomplishment.

Autism is content; never needing or wanting anything more than what is already had.

Autism is fiercely loyal; dedicated to and protective of those that are special enough to be trusted.

Autism is proactive; working hard to identify the root of a problem and how to fix it.

Autism is happy; expressing joy all the way from a beaming smile down to flapping hands and kicking feet.

Autism is curious; desiring to know anything and everything about how an objects works.

Autism is disciplined; living life adhering rules and routines without hesitation or complaint.

Autism is loving; daily proving that love is an action that does not need a single word to be expressed.

Autism is sacrificial; trying new things for others even when it is extremely uncomfortable.

Autism is resilient; gracious and forgiving of every stare, point and sneer.

Autism is steadfast; living daily in a world that it does not understand nor feel accepted in.

Autism is funny. Autism is passionate. Autism is intelligent. Autism is creative. Autism is expressive. And Autism is strong.

Autism is Levi and Levi is Autism.

So, this April, I do not want you to be aware of Autism. I want you to know Autism, accept Autism, and love Autism because it is so much greater than you could ever imagine.

Autism is everything I wanted for our family and more.

The Weary World Rejoices

Like most people, I spent my New Years Eve night in my pajamas, watching the playoff game (Can you really even call it a game when the score was 38-0?), and reflecting on the past year. Okay, okay so most people are not sitting at home in their pajamas on NYE, but I can guarantee most people do spend a good amount of their day reminiscing on the past year. And if you don't believe me, log onto Instagram or Facebook and relive people's "top nine" moments or their "year at a glance". As I spent time thinking about our past year and simultaneously reading statuses & viewing photo collages about how amazing people's years had been and how good God is, I couldn't help but think

 What if your year was not amazing? 

 What if your year was really hard? 

 What if your year left you wounded and weary? 

Is God still good? 

 This is a lot of people's reality as they say goodbye to 2015 and brace themselves for 2016. This is our reality. Now before I go any further, I must attest to the many gracious and wonderful things that happened in our year. Namely, this sweet baby below. 

We have a beautiful house, an incredibly supportive and loving family, a wonderful church family. We have encouraging and tenderhearted friends. We have amazing doctors, therapists, and teachers who work tirelessly for us so that our year can be better. We do not want for anything. We are undeniably blessed. 

 We have also hurt more this year than any year before. We have faced more trials in this year than any year before. We have walked alongside loved ones who have suffered greatly this year. We have faced great disappointment, great unknowns, and some really, really hard "no"s from the Lord. 2015 was not our "best year yet" and we are not skipping happily into the new year. We are the tired marathon runner with the bummed leg who is slowly crossing the finish line, bearing wounds and dragging baggage behind us. We are strained. We are weary. We are low. 

At the beginning of 2015, I was sure that Levi was just being "stubborn" and that by the end of the year he would be talking, laughing, and playing like the normal 2 year old I (thought) I wanted. At the beginning of 2015, I never would have imagined that I would spend part of Christmas day hiding in a room crying because Levi screamed most of his way through the morning and wouldn't (and still hasn't) touched a single present that he received. I never would have imagined that after 2 car accidents, a totaled car, and car and house break-ins in our neighborhood that my anxiety would be at the highest that I have ever experienced. My sinful heart wants to be angry. My sinful heart wants to glare at God while I watch that year that I had envisioned mock me as is floats away. My sinful (and dramatic) heart wants to wash my hands of 2015 and say "good riddance, what a waste." 

What does that say about our year? What does God say about our year?

"For My thoughts are not your thoughts, and your ways are not My ways." This is the Lords declaration. "For as heaven is higher than earth, so My ways are higher than your ways, and My thoughts than your thoughts." {Isaiah 55:8-9}

To the world, and to my sinful heart, my year looks like a jumbled mess. But to the Lord, this year was fruitful and good. The hard moments, the "no"s, the grieving, and the disappointments were just as important as the moments of happiness and prosperity. The uncertainties surrounding Lucas' health and Levi's future are leading us to lean on the Prince of Peace. It is good. The anxiety that has come from car accidents and close calls has renewed my spirit of thankfulness to and my reverence for the Giver of Life. It is good. The fears that have been ignited from break-ins has caused me to recognize my false-sense of security and to turn my trust to the only true Protector. It is good. The "no"s that we have heard this year pertaining to Levi's health and ultimately his diagnosis with Autism have reminded me that all things will work together for good. 

As He passed by, He saw a man blind from birth. And His disciples asked Him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he would be born blind?" Jesus answered, "It was neither that this man sinned, nor his parents; but it was so that the works of God might be displayed in him.… {John 9:2}

Do I understand some of the things that we have gone through this year? No. Do I know what God has planned for this coming year? No. 

But I do know, that this year was worth it. I do know that this year was good. And I do know that no matter where the Lord plans to take us this next year, that He is, and always will be, good. 

So for those of you who are entering the new year with wounds, heart ache, loneliness, and grief, know that your suffering is not in vain. Know that your hardships will be redeemed.  Know that the darkness will not prevail. And most importantly, know that the Lord is good and His love is steadfast. "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." {Matthew 11:28}

1. 
   
   "I heard the voice of Jesus say,
   “Come unto Me and rest;
   Lay down, thou weary one, lay down
   Thy head upon My breast.”
   I came to Jesus as I was,
   Weary and worn and sad;
   I found in Him a resting place,
   And He has made me glad!"
   {Horatius Bonar}