you are not alone – Page 6

When It’s Hard To Understand

Does your fight for hope involve unanswered prayers? Do you feel that God is stone cold silent on the subject closest to your heart?

Yeah, me too.

And that’s why I love this song. The lyrics don’t say “if”, they say “when”, because we have times when we don’t understand what God is doing. We have broken parts in our lives that need mending. We have loved ones drowning in addiction. We are lost in our own addictions.

We are a broken mess AND God is working.

He redeems, restores, rebuilds. We can trust Him.

When You don’t move the mountains I’m needing You to move
When You don’t part the waters I wish I could walk through
When You don’t give the answers as I cry out to You
I will trust, I will trust, I will trust in You!

Impressions

I have the privilege of living and working at French Camp Academy, a Christian boarding school tucked away in French Camp, MS along the beautiful Natchez Trace Parkway . It is a place where people fight for hope every single day.

I had the opportunity to write a post for the French Camp Academy blog this week. It is called Impressions. Life at FCA definitely resembles a fish bowl. Today’s post gives a glimpse into what happens in “fish-bowl living.” To read this post, click here.

If you know a young person who might need a place like FCA, you can find out more at www.frenchcamp.org

The Power of Community

Some of my favorite people (and one stuffed animal) helped me celebrate my birthday earlier this week.

This birthday felt like a big one. I’m thankful for the life I’ve had and at the same time I want to “ponder the path of my feet.” (I love that phrase in Proverbs.) I want to pause and look at the direction of my life to make sure I am heading the way that reflects who I am.

And this blog has been part of the pondering. I love writing. I have to write. Really, I do. One time I tried to give up writing and ended up scribbling my thoughts on napkins. It’s a definite need. And as I write, I want to write things that add value to the lives of my readers.

I am so thankful for you, my readers. I am thankful that you clicked the follow button and joined this community of Hope Warriors. I am amazed that something I wrote resonated with you and made you want to read more. Thank you for allowing me to share bits and pieces of my story with you. Thank you for being a part of this community.

As I wrote on my “About Me” page, I believe we are made for hope and I equally believe that we grow stronger by being in community with other hope warriors. Hope warriors are not people who have it all together. They are not people who give surface answers to the messiness of life. Hope warriors are people who know their own brokenness, who aren’t afraid of the brokenness they see in others. They are people who say “I am with you. You are not alone.”

Our world needs hope warriors. It needs people who can stand firm in the swirling darkness and say “What you mean for evil, God will turn into good.” Our world needs people who cling to the beauty of redemption, because there is so much that is broken.

Since our world needs hope and hope warriors need each other, I believe our little community is going to grow.

I’d love to know: What are some topics you’d like to read about? Is there an aspect of fighting for hope that you’d like to know more about? Are there questions about hope that you want to ask? Would you like to share your story of fighting for hope by writing a post?

Keep fighting for hope, my friend. I am so glad you are here.

Warriors Among Us

I recently had my first manicure-pedicure nail salon experience.

I climbed in the car, feeling pampered and refreshed. “I got to hear part of one lady’s story and we talked about God.” I told my husband. “I wonder if that is a typical nail salon experience.”

He started shaking his head before I finished my sentence. “Erin, nobody has experiences like yours.”

Stephen shakes his head at me. A lot. Even after being married to me for 23 years, there are many areas where he can’t figure out why I do the things I do. And talking to strangers is at the top of the list.

I talk to strangers. A lot. I tell my kids not to, but I am a total hypocrite when it comes to this.

Conversations with strangers are always, always interesting. One time I met a lady who told me about her former life hundreds of years ago. I live in the deep South, so I’d never met anyone who actually believed they were reincarnated. See? Interesting.

Now, there was that one conversation on the adult diaper aisle that was more interesting than I bargained for. I now avoid that aisle at all cost, and if I can’t, I definitely avoid making eye contact with anyone on that aisle.

I’ve made great friends by talking to strangers. I met my friend Kim at a writer’s group meeting over 20 years ago. She and I hit it off so well I took her home for supper and we’ve been friends ever since. She is one of the many Hope Warriors in my life.

I also once asked Maritza, who was a Kroger cashier at the time, to help me become more fluent in Spanish. She asked if I would help her children with English. Another friendship was born, along with some pretty humorous cross-cultural experiences. To this day Stephen does not trust me to translate anything in Spanish. Just because I might have tricked him into eating a cow tongue taco that one time.

We often underestimate the power of a smile or the timeliness of an encouraging word. I know their power because I have been blessed many times by the words of a total stranger. (Except for that diaper aisle convo.)

Days after my second miscarriage, the words of a stranger comforted me as I stood in the Walmart pharmacy. After 9 years of marriage, and years of waiting for a baby, I was absolutely heartbroken. This kind lady wasn’t afraid of the tears streaming down my face as she offered words of comfort and shared her own miscarriage experience with me. In those few moments she let me know I wasn’t alone.

A few years later my daughter had a seizure while we were shopping. A stranger prayed over her and stayed with me until the ambulance arrived.

One day at the eye doctor, one of the technicians began telling me about losing her father unexpectedly. Even as she spoke of her sorrow, her faith in God and in His care shone clearly. Within a few moments we were both praising God.

Then there was the lady in the grocery store who saw my numb, tired look as my kids ran in circles around my grocery cart. Anderson was holding a giant pack of toilet paper on his head pretending to be some kind of animal. She cautiously leaned toward me and said “It does get better.”

These interchanges happened in the middle of busy settings and some lasted only a few minutes. But they have been important over the course of my life. They happened because a stranger reached out of their world and entered mine for just a second to offer encouragement, comfort, or just plain kindness.

I have met so many hope warriors by talking to strangers. People who are fighting for hope, believing that things can change, and clinging to the God who holds them up. People who have encouraged me to trust God’s hand, who reminded me of God’s love toward me even when I’ve felt like I was sitting in the darkness.

Our hearts crave hope. We were made for hope because we were created by the God of hope. Sometimes we forget that, sometimes our hope wavers, and it takes the kindness of a stranger to remind us of the truth. And other times, we have the privilege of stretching out a hand to others to say “You are not alone. Hope is worth fighting for!”

Stephen was with me one day in Subway when a woman came up to me and said “You look like a person who prays. Will you pray for me? Everything in my life is going wrong.” She sat down with us for a few minutes. We listened to her story and offered her words of truth. I tried to remind her that her mistakes can be forgiven and that God’s grace offers each one of us another chance.

As she walked away, Stephen looked at me and, of course, shook his head. My sweet husband can keep shaking his head until all his hair turns grey. I’ll keep looking for Hope Warriors among us.

Have you ever been blessed by the words of a stranger? I’d love to hear about it!

The Ever-Changing Perfect Mom Standard

I completely lost it on my kids. Last Sunday. Twenty minutes before Sunday School. Twenty minutes before I had to teach Sunday School.

I yelled. I made them cry. I stomped out of the room.

And I told myself I was a horrible mother.

Has this ever happened to you?

I’ve been running from the “Horrible Mother” status and chasing the “Perfect Wife and Mom” status for years. And I totally believe it’s unattainable, because I keep changing the standard.

In the early years of our marriage, I felt that I was a good wife if I made cornbread every night at supper. Every night. (Can you tell I’m Southern?) My mom had cornbread at every meal, and her mom always had cornbread. No one ever told me I HAD to make cornbread, but I labeled it as the perfect wife standard.

Finally, one night, Stephen looked at the skillet of cornbread and said, “You know, I don’t really like cornbread.”

Goodbye cornbread.

I’ve done the same thing as a mom. For a time I felt that if I had pitchers of sweet tea (Can’t get away from being a Southern girl!) and Kool-aid in the fridge, I was a good mama. I had to let go of that standard because we really didn’t need to be consuming that much sugar.

Last night I realized that I have another arbitrary standard of being a perfect mom.

A full towel closet. I feel that if my family has towels for their bath times, I am a good mama.

I’m sure my husband wishes I had higher standards on other things, like dusting the baseboards, keeping the dirty laundry pile below waist level, and mopping the floor more often.

Bless his heart. I let go of having a clean house as a perfect mom standard when the kids were toddlers. If it happened, great. But if I had to choose between happy kids and a clean house, the kids were going to win. Every time.

I would like my kids to always have clean school uniforms, but there are days when we pull them out of the dirty clothes hamper and rock on.

I would prefer to send them off to school with smiles on their faces, ready to face the day. But there are some mornings when tears and frustration win the battles.

I would definitely want to not lose my temper with my children, but it does happen.

I can’t let these things determine if I’m living under horrible mom judgment or in perfect mom bliss.

Sunday afternoon, hours after the blow-up and after we’d all asked forgiveness and cleared the air, my youngest brought me a book she’d written and stapled together.

In this book, she gave four reasons.

You give me hugs when I’m upset.
You help me when I need it. You help me with homework.
You comfort me when I’m scared. When the tornado siren went off you comforted me.
You spend time with us. You play games with us.

Not a single mention of cornbread or sweet tea, or clean towels, or any other arbitrary standard I might have made up over the years. My girl loves me because she knows I love her. She knows this because I give her time, comfort, help, and hugs. And that’s the way I want it.

What about you? Do you have standards in mind that give you “Horrible Mother” or “Perfect Mother” status?

In honor of Mother’s Day, I would like to suggest that we stop judging ourselves based on ever-changing criteria that doesn’t really matter. Let’s choose a standard that matters in the long run. Let’s choose a standard that will impact our kids for the rest of their lives.

I want my kids to know that I love them, and I am for them.

That’s a perfect mom standard that will last.

When You Don’t Feel Like A Ninja

My daughter threw a sticky ninja onto our dining room ceiling this week. He has been there all week, just holding on. This sticky ninja perfectly describes the climate of our home All five of us are just hanging on while school-chaos, work-chaos, life-chaos swirls all around us.

We are usually pleasant people to be around. Pleasant people who can speak in complete sentences. But in this state of done-ness, we’ve settled for conversations that sound like:

She did it to me first!

Stop looking at me!

Go away!

Turn that music down!

It’s as if we are all wearing sandpaper on our skin, constantly abrasive, constantly irritated.

And our emotions are all over the place. Yesterday I had one child skipping around, excited about a field trip, and one child sobbing on my shoulder, I’m sick of school! Then I sat down and cried for half an hour about my son’s upcoming graduation from 6th grade. They were happy-celebrating-a-milestone tears, but they were still tears.

This milestone is hitting me hard and my husband is baffled. It’s just 6th grade, he keeps saying. But it’s so much more. I feel like we’ve come so far. I went from holding an infant, feeling the full responsibility of parenthood for the first time, to beholding a 100 pound man-cub standing in front of me. It’s just a bit overwhelming.

What about you? How are you these days?

Is life swirling around you, too? Are you just holding on, waiting for a chance to catch your breath? Are you feeling D-O-N-E?

I keep telling my 6th grader. You are so close to the finish line. Keep going, keep doing your best. You will be glad that you finished well.

And I want to whisper those same words to your heart and mine. Keep going, keep doing your best. Keep fighting for hope, even in the darkness. We never know how this stage in our journey will impact the next. We never really know who is inspired by our perseverance until it’s all over.

Hang on, my friend! Hang on like a sticky ninja!

Fighting For Those Who Can’t

I love this picture.

This, to me, is a picture of hope. It looks like it was painted by a happy girl who is excited about a birthday or a special occasion.

But it wasn’t. And that is what makes this a perfect picture of hope. This little hope fairy in all of its pink glory was painted by a young girl in an orphanage in Ukraine.

The orphanage she lives in is drab. Grey and neutral colors are everywhere, except for the art room tucked away in a large classroom on the second floor. It seems as though all the colors in the rainbow have been reserved for that one room in the entire orphanage.

And this is where our little hope artist painted a sweet fairy with her arms open wide, inviting life in with a smile on her face.

This little girl painted hope when her circumstances pointed toward hopelessness. She painted hope when nothing encouraged it. She painted hope even though nothing changed day after day.

This girl is a fighter. A hope warrior.

This picture makes me want to stretch out my hand to encourage this young hope warrior. I want to say “Don’t give up! Keep hoping. Keep your arms open toward life!” I know that there are days when her circumstances mock the spark of hope in her heart. I can hear their dark whispers: “You are nothing. Nobody wants you. What a waste.”

I want her to win.

I want her to experience the beauty of redemption .

Fighting for hope means clinging to redemption. It means believing that God can redeem- buy back, rescue from loss, ransom in full – situations and relationships in our lives. Because of the beauty of redemption we can stand firm and yell what Dan Allender calls “the quintessential cry of hope” in The Healing Path

God turned into good what you meant for evil. (Genesis 50:20, NLT)

I call it the war cry of hope fighters.

Fighting for hope means believing change can happen. It means leaning forward into each day, fighting for traction, for momentum that can move us forward – even an inch.

And that’s the thing about fighting for hope. As we fight we recognize other hope warriors and we want to cheer for them. We know how hard it is to keep hoping and we know that hope is worth fighting for.

Fighting for hope for those who can’t means reaching out a hand of encouragement to speak truth: This is not the end. God will work. And in the reminding, God shines and the darkness fades.

Would you like an opportunity to encourage a fellow hope warrior?

Let me introduce my friends Slavik and Alonya. They live out the beauty of redemption and they are some of the finest hope warriors I’ve met.

They began the Nasledie HeritageFoundation because they wanted to serve orphans and troubled children in Ukraine. They saw great needs all around them and began reaching out. Instead of getting overwhelmed and saying “The problem is too big. What difference could we make?” they stepped out in prayer and began making a difference in the lives of children.

Today they have teams that go into 18 different orphanages to do winter and summer camps, Christmas programs, and fun activities wrapped in the hope that only Christ can bring.

And when war began in Ukraine, they saw an opportunity to reach out to the refugees pouring into their city and they raised money to open a place to minister to these people in need.

To find out more about their amazing ministry check out their Facebook page – Nasledie Heritage Foundation – and their blog at nasledieukraine.blogspot.com. This site shares the story behind the ministry as well as opportunities to get involved.

Fighting for hope on behalf of those who can’t nurtures a spark of hope in their lives. And hope only needs a spark to grow.

The Beauty of Redemption

I love words and meanings. Lately I’ve had my sights set on the word Redemption and these hope-filled phrases: to ransom completely, to rescue from loss, to release, preserve, deliver by any means, rescue.

The Old and New Testaments paint a beautiful picture of redemption through verses like these:

“But God will ransom my soul from the power of Sheol…” Psalm 49:15

“Into Your hand I commit my spirit; you have redeemed me, O Lord, faithful God.” Psalm 31:5

“The Lord redeems the life of His servants, none of those who take refuge in him will be condemned.” Psalm 34:22

“He has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.” Colossians 1:13-14

From these verses we see that God is a God who fully rescues, who delivers by any means, who buys back.

I think this is beautiful because there is a lot in my life that needs to be redeemed. This truth is comforting: If God fully rescues and preserves and delivers by any means then my fight for hope is not in vain.

Fighting for hope means clinging to redemption. It means believing that God can redeem- buy back, rescue from loss, ransom in full – situations and relationships in our lives. Because of the beauty of redemption we can stand firm and yell what Dan Allender calls “the quintessential cry of hope” in The Healing Path

God turned into good what you meant for evil. (Genesis 50:20, NLT)

I call it the war cry of hope fighters.

Fighting for hope means believing change can happen. It means leaning forward into each day, fighting for traction, for momentum that can move us forward – even an inch.

It means going to counseling to find out why an addiction has a hold in our lives. It means believing that a day will come when that hold is broken.

It means eating well and taking care of ourselves. It means doing what is best, not easiest. It might mean moving closer to someone who is hurting, or it might mean pulling away from someone who is self-destructing.

Sometimes it means waiting.

But fighting for hope always means believing God will bring good where darkness meant it for evil.

I clearly remember the day God asked me to stop running and become a fighter for hope.

Before that day I knew that trials were part of life in this broken world and that God could help me through, but I had no clue that God would ever ask me to walk through a trial purposefully without knowing the outcome.

We were seven years into our marriage and the masks we’d been wearing were coming unglued and sins hidden too long in the dark began pouring out.

I wish I could say that I accepted my fighter of hope status with great zeal. Instead I sat weeping on the edge of my bed “I can’t do this. It’s too hard and it hurts too much. I want out.” And God answered me as clearly as if He’d said it aloud. “I want you to walk through this. I will be with you.”

That was 16 years ago this month. And the journey has been filled with chasms where I got lost, and mountain tops where I thought the trials were over. In the dark chasms I lost hope, I lost my footing, and forgot that God ever promised to be with me.

But he was with me through every step. He is still with me. And when I begin listening to lies whispered in those dark chasms He sends in truth so I can find my way out of the darkness.

Things do not have to stay where they are right now because God is a God who fully rescues, at all cost, buys back, and restores.

The beauty of redemption.

Do you have a Redemption Chapter in the story of your life? Or are you in the middle of a journey now? Can you see the beauty of redemption in your story?

Happy New Year!

As we move into a new year and I think about my blogging adventures, the word that comes to mind is thankful. I stepped into the blogging world in July and since then people from 30 countries around the world have clicked on my site. Around the world! It boggles my mind. I know that behind those numbers are real people who took time out of their busy lives to read my words. Real people who, hopefully, were encouraged or challenged by what they read.

Here’s a recap of the past few months on erinulerich.com:

I’ve had the opportunity to share parts of my life, my story, with my readers in hopes that they would find connection or encouragement through my words. I believe tracing God’s Hand through our story, through the dark times and the joyful times, is powerful.

I’ve written about one of my favorite topics : the importance of fighting for hope in our lives.

In October I joined an amazing community at www.write31days.com and wrote for an entire month about Truths That Make Life Beautiful. I divided the month into three truths: You are loved. You are not alone. You have purpose.

This was my first experience being in a blogging community, and I loved it. It was so much fun that I’m going to try it again. In the next few days I’m joining another community for a new series. I’ll share those details with you soon!

Thank you so much for reading my words, for your comments, and your “likes.” I want you to know that I pray for you as I write each post, because my desire is that my words would speak life to you and always, always, point your heart toward God.

I’m looking forward to walking into 2016 with you!

If you would like to receive my posts directly to your email, please click the Follow button on the sidebar.

Finding Hope in the Waiting (Part 2)

When we can’t see the end of the waiting, it is easy to lose hope. Finding Hope in the Waiting (Part 1) describes how God used a decade of waiting to draw me closer to Him.

During the waiting I was frustrated that God was making me wait. I let Him know just how frustrated I was, but I never took into account that He knows how hard waiting is. He knows because He also had to wait.

The first Christmas was the answer to a very long time of waiting on both sides of eternity. God’s people had been waiting for God to deliver them. And during all that time, He had been waiting too.

Throughout the Old Testament, His heart cry is repeated: “They shall be my people, and I will be their God.” And after all that waiting, at just the right time, He stepped into history. He stepped into our space and time, not to thunder from a mountain top, but to become one of us.

He came to deliver us, but also to be with us. To walk in this broken world, to feel the pull of sin, to feel every emotion we feel so that He can be with us in every way.

Why would He do this?

“Christ has put on our feelings along with our flesh, not only to show Himself to be truly man, but to be taught by that very experience how to help our miseries; and that, not because as Son of God He needed such instruction, but because only thus could we grasp the concern He has for our salvation. Whenever we are laboring under the infirmities of our flesh, let us bear in mind that the Son of God has experienced them too, to encourage us by His power in case we are overwhelmed by them.” (Calvin’s New Testament Commentaries, Hebrews and 1&2 Peter)

He did this to show us the depth of His love, grace, and mercy toward us. He walked in our shoes so that we would trust Him with our hearts.

This love, grace, and mercy is described in Hebrews 4:12-16.

^“For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account. Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.”

After describing how nothing is hidden from God – not even the thoughts deep within our hearts that we would never bring to the light of day – in case we start to despair, the writer of Hebrews begins to describe how Jesus was tempted in every way as we are. He fought the battles waging inside of us – each one of us – and he WON! – not to gloat over us, but to say “I know the battle. Come closer and find your strength in Me. Come, and receive forgiveness. Take my hand and I will fill you with hope. Come to the throne of grace in your time of need, with confidence, to find help.”

What would our lives look like if we really believed that He is with us? If we felt His comforting arm around our shoulder when fear haunts us, when grief stalks us, when hopelessness threatens to drag us down?

Would things be different if we remembered that He also wrestled with fear, that He fought against grief, that He destroyed hopelessness so that we could too.

What if we cried out to Him and heard Him say, “I’m with you. We will walk through this together.” or “I created all that you see. I hold all things together. If I hold the molecules of your body together, I can work in the details of your life.”

And when we seek to know Jesus, we find it comforting that nothing is hidden from God, because it means that God knows everything about us. He ended the waiting time and became one of us so that we could know Him, too.