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Posted in Faith in Real Life

God, I Trust You

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I’ve been struggling lately.

Struggling with trying to have it all together.

Struggling with trying to do it all.

Struggling with a self-imposed timeline.

Struggling because I’m not as successful as I feel I should be.

Struggling with unfulfilled dreams.

Struggling to know my place in the world.

Struggling to know what God has really called me to do.

It’s a lot. And lately, it’s been overwhelming me.

I Know the Triggers

I’m well aware of the triggers.

Social media. Too much phone time. Not enough Bible or prayer time. Too much comparison. All the common pitfalls of a self-confessed failure.

Then there’s the endless search for the perfect process.

I spend too much time looking for the perfect process or studying how someone else did it so I can “learn” how to do it.

Then the overthinking starts.

They already did it. So what can I possibly bring to it? What do I have to offer?

And that’s just it.

What do I have to offer?

When the Orchestra Shows Up

Most days, these thoughts play like soft but annoying music in the background of my life.

But every so often, they decide to come out and play and when they do, they bring the whole orchestra and chorus with them.

And it’s a bad day.

Or days.

During those times, nothing seems to go right. Even the littlest thing becomes challenging. And the tears just never seem to stop.

This week has been full of those days.

Until this morning.

Something Felt Different

I got up and did my usual routine, including my Bible study time.

Afterward, I just sat.

Breathing in.

Breathing out.

Taking note of each breath.

Then I opened social media and actually found some encouragement. It felt like it was just for me.

And it was timely.

Usually, when I have days like this, everything ends with a whole lot of self-condemnation.

“I should be more grateful for what I have. Remember, Vikki, you once prayed for this, and now you’ve wasted time complaining about it.”

I sit there shaking my head at myself.

“More time wasted when you could have been doing something creative. I bet all those people who are actually doing it never wasted this much time.”

Then come more tears and more crying out to God, asking for forgiveness for what, honestly, I don’t even know anymore.

But this morning felt different.

Yes, there were still the “end of” tears. I started to go down that same road again, but I felt God stop me.

And this was what He highlighted for me:

“For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.”
— Ephesians 2:10, NLT

I Think I’ve Been Backwards

I think I’ve been looking at this all backwards.

Somehow, I convinced myself that I had to figure out and accomplish all the things God was planning for me to do.

But He already planned them.

All I need to do is walk in them.

And then God reminded me of something else.

While I’ve given all my hopes and dreams over to Him, I keep taking them back.

Why?

I have no clue, except that I’m part control freak and stupid pride keeps convincing me that I need to have my hand on the entire process.

I want the plan.

I want the timeline.

I want to know what happens next.

I want to know how everything comes together.

And apparently, God wants something very different from me.

One Step at a Time

Then I felt Him say:

There’s a reason I’m only giving you one step at a time.

Because you’re process-driven, and I want you to be God-driven.

I want you to trust Me and really get to know My voice. The only way to do that is for Me to give you one step at a time.

You’re frustrated because you can’t see the whole process, but I designed it this way.

Trust Me.

And once again, I broke.

I gave it all back to Him.

All my hopes.

All my dreams.

All the things I keep trying to figure out on my own.

And it’s scary because I don’t know what the next step is.

But I know He does.

So I said four very hard but very powerful words to Him:

God, I trust You.

And I meant it.

Truly.

Deep down, I meant it.

And a weight lifted off my heart, my shoulders, and all the rest of me.

Now I Get to Breathe

And now I get to breathe.

Just breathe.

I don’t have to figure everything out today.

I don’t have to know the entire plan.

I don’t have to compare my journey to someone else’s.

I don’t have to prove that I’m successful enough, creative enough, productive enough, or far enough along.

I just need to take the next step God puts in front of me.

That will be hard for me.

I’m a process-driven person. I like plans, timelines, checklists, and knowing where I’m going.

But maybe God isn’t asking me to understand the whole journey.

Maybe He’s asking me to trust the One who does.

And perhaps that’s where I need to start.

Not with another plan.

Not with another process.

Not with another comparison.

But with four simple words:

God, I trust You.

What About You?

Maybe you’re struggling, too.

Maybe you’re carrying dreams you don’t know what to do with.

Maybe you’re frustrated because you thought you’d be further along by now.

Maybe you keep asking God for the whole map when He’s only giving you the next step.

If that’s you, take a breath today.

Put down the timeline.

Put down the comparison.

Put down the need to understand it all.

Give your hopes and dreams back to God—and leave them there.

Then ask Him for the next step.

You don’t need the whole plan. You just need to trust the One who has it.

And if you’re willing, tell me in the comments:

What is one thing you need to give back to God today?

Maybe we can remind each other that we don’t have to have it all together.

We just have to keep walking.

One step at a time.

Posted in Faith in Real Life

Trading Beliefs for Truth

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

Have you ever had a belief challenged? Someone feeds you a little truth, and suddenly you’re sitting in the middle of your belief system wondering what happened to your life.

As I’ve grown older and studied the Word more intently, I’ve realized there are several beliefs I need to replace with Truth.

It hasn’t necessarily been a pain-free process. Letting go of 50+ years of believing one way is hard. But if I want to grow, I have to “let it go”—as the song says.

So, here are some of the things I’ve had to let go of.

1. The more productive I am, the more I’m worth.

I’ve made a habit of tying my worth to what I accomplish. It’s probably why words of affirmation are my love language. Tell me I did a good job, and suddenly I feel like I’ve got my life together.

But the Bible tells me my worth isn’t wrapped up in what I do or how productive I am.

It’s wrapped up in Jesus.

“But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” — Romans 5:8

Jesus didn’t wait until I became productive enough, successful enough, or “good enough.” He died for me while I was still a sinner.

My worth wasn’t earned.

Jesus settled it at the cross.

2. It’s too late to start something new.

I want to write and publish books. I want to build a business around writing, crochet, and embroidery. I want to read and review books. I want my blogs to succeed, and I want to grow them.

And through all of that, I hear a ticking clock in my head reminding me that I’m 57—almost 58—and time is running out.

But then I remember what the Bible says.

God regularly calls people later in life.

Moses was 80.

Caleb was 85 and still asking for mountains.

Sarah became a mother at 90.

Anna faithfully served God into old age.

“They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green.” — Psalm 92:14

The Bible never gives ministry, creativity, or purpose an expiration date.

There is no recall on my calling from God!

3. I have to have everything figured out before I begin.

This one stops me every time.

It’s also why I start things and then stop, leaving them unfinished. I always need to see the whole process. I want the perfect plan for my blogs, my writing, my career…preferably before I take the first step.

But God doesn’t work that way.

He usually gives us enough light for the next step—not the next twenty.

“Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.” — Psalm 119:105

A lamp gives me enough light to see where I’m standing and where to put my next foot.

It doesn’t spotlight the entire road.

Maybe I don’t need the whole plan.

Maybe I just need to take the next step.

4. I should have my emotions under control all the time.

Let’s talk about this one.

Menopause. Anxiety. Overwhelm. Guilt. Brain fog.

Sometimes the whole gang gets together and beats me up until I’m a crying mess who just wants to eat chocolate, rock myself, and pet Percy.

Then I feel guilty for feeling all of it.

But the Bible doesn’t tell me I shouldn’t have emotions.

David cried. Elijah became overwhelmed. Jeremiah wept. Even Jesus cried.

Scripture says:

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” — 1 Peter 5:7

Notice it doesn’t say, “Get yourself together and then come to Me.”

It says cast it on Him.

Having emotions doesn’t mean I’m failing God.

It means I’m human.

I don’t have to be ashamed of what I feel. I just have to remember that my feelings are real, but they don’t have to be in charge.

5. God only uses extraordinary people.

I know I’ve joked about not wanting to be “Super Christian Wonder Woman.” And honestly, I think that’s a pretty healthy instinct.

Because when I look at the people God used throughout Scripture, I don’t see a lineup of superheroes.

I see ordinary people.

Fishermen.
Shepherds.
Widows.
Tax collectors.
Homemakers.
Farmers.

People with weaknesses, questions, fears, failures, and very ordinary lives.

And God used them.

“God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.” — 1 Corinthians 1:27

Maybe I don’t have to be extraordinary.

Maybe I just have to be willing.

And finally…the mother of all beliefs.

I need to become a much better version of myself before God can use me.

This one might be the hardest to let go of.

Because I’m always trying to improve myself. Be better. Do better. Lose weight. Get organized. Be more productive. Finish what I start. Become more confident. Become more disciplined.

But Scripture keeps telling me a different story.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9

God isn’t waiting for me to become younger, thinner, more successful, more organized, or more confident.

He isn’t waiting for the “finished version” of Vikki.

He can use me right now.

With my weaknesses.

With my unfinished projects.

With my messy emotions.

With my questions.

With my very ordinary life.

Because apparently, God has never needed me to be extraordinary.

He just needs me to be willing to let Him work through me.

Posted in Faith in Real Life

What If Ordinary Is Holy?

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I used to think holy people were recognizable.

They prayed differently.

They spoke differently.

They seemed to know exactly what to say when someone was hurting.

They probably woke up early to pray, kept their Bibles beautifully highlighted, and never once stood in the kitchen at 5:30 p.m. wondering what on earth they were going to make for dinner.

At least, that’s how I imagined them.

My mental picture of holiness centered on people doing holy things.

I pictured my pastor praying on his knees for Sunday morning inspiration.

His wife showing up at someone’s house with fresh-baked cookies because they were sick.

Moses meeting with God.

Mary carrying an unimaginable miracle inside her.

David standing in front of a giant with nothing but a sling and a whole lot of faith.

Those are the moments we remember.

So somewhere along the way, I decided holiness must look like that.

Then I saw “holy” people at home.

Years ago, I spent a summer living with a pastor and his family.

The circumstances that brought me there were complicated and, honestly, a little strange. But that summer gave me something I didn’t know I needed.

I got to see what happened when the people I had placed on a spiritual pedestal went home at the end of the day.

And they were…normal.

His shoes probably sat somewhere they shouldn’t have.

He had a habit of leaving cabinet doors open in the kitchen.

His wife couldn’t keep up with the laundry any more than the rest of us could.

He mowed the lawn.

She woke up with spectacular bedhead.

They got tired.

They had responsibilities.

They dealt with regular family stuff.

They weren’t walking around their house glowing with a faint heavenly light.

And I loved them for it.

Because somewhere in that very ordinary house, my definition of holiness began to fall apart.

Maybe holy people aren’t actually that different from the rest of us.

Maybe they just belong to God.

That changed something for me.

God meets people in real life.

When I went back to Scripture, I started noticing things I hadn’t paid much attention to before.

Moses wasn’t exactly eager to accept his assignment.

David spent years doing things that looked nothing like slaying giants.

Mary wasn’t living some peaceful, picturesque life when God interrupted it.

These weren’t people floating through perfectly arranged spiritual moments.

They had errands.

Responsibilities.

Fear.

Questions.

Bad days.

They had lives.

And God met them there.

I’ve spent a lot of years thinking I needed to create better spiritual moments.

A better quiet time.

A better prayer life.

A better version of myself.

Maybe you’ve done that too.

We see someone’s beautifully arranged Bible, coffee, journal, blanket, and perfectly placed verse on Instagram, and suddenly our own relationship with God feels like it’s missing something.

Meanwhile, I’m reading my Bible with yesterday’s coffee beside me while the dog wants out, my phone keeps buzzing, and I’m wondering whether I remembered to move something from the freezer for dinner.

This is not exactly Instagrammable holiness.

But maybe it doesn’t need to be.

Maybe God isn’t asking me to create a holy atmosphere.

Maybe He’s asking me to let Him into the atmosphere I already have.

That’s different.

Faith doesn’t have to look impressive.

Real life isn’t particularly photogenic.

Sometimes faith looks like praying while you’re driving.

Sometimes it looks like apologizing when you’d rather prove your point.

Sometimes it looks like opening your Bible when you’re tired and don’t particularly feel spiritual.

Sometimes it looks like forgiving someone who isn’t sorry.

Sometimes it looks like getting up tomorrow and doing the next right thing when yesterday was hard.

Sometimes it looks like sitting beside someone you love and saying nothing because there isn’t anything to say.

And sometimes…

it’s just making dinner.

There are days when I don’t feel particularly faithful.

There are days when I’m distracted, impatient, tired, discouraged, or simply over it.

Some days, my prayer life feels profound.

Other days, my prayer is basically, “Lord, help.”

I’ve decided that counts too.

Maybe especially that.

Because the older I get, the less interested I am in looking holy and the more interested I am in actually knowing God.

I don’t need my life to look impressive.

I don’t need every struggle to become a lesson.

I don’t need every morning to begin with a perfectly peaceful devotional.

I don’t even need to understand everything God is doing.

God has been faithful.

I’ve lived long enough to know that some of my biggest lessons came from things I never would have chosen.

Some prayers were answered.

Some weren’t.

Some dreams happened.

Some didn’t.

I’ve lost people I desperately wanted to keep.

I’ve walked through seasons I never want to repeat.

And somehow, through all of it, God has remained faithful.

Not flashy.

Not always obvious.

Just faithful.

That’s the part I notice more now.

I notice Him in my granddaughter’s laugh.

In a conversation that comes at exactly the right time.

In the sudden realization that something I once prayed desperately about no longer hurts the way it used to.

In a quiet morning.

In a hard day that somehow gets me through to bedtime.

In the comfort of Scripture I’ve read a hundred times but suddenly understand differently.

Even in a crochet hook moving through yarn while I watch another British mystery.

I don’t think those moments interrupt my spiritual life anymore.

I think they are my spiritual life.

Maybe this is what holiness looks like.

Maybe that’s what growing older has taught me.

Holiness isn’t always dramatic.

Sometimes it is incredibly ordinary.

Sometimes it looks like getting up, making coffee, going to work, loving your people, doing your best, messing up, apologizing, trying again, and trusting God to meet you somewhere in the middle of it all.

Not because the day was extraordinary.

But because He was there.

And maybe I’ve had it backward all these years.

Maybe I don’t have to make my ordinary life holy.

Maybe I just have to recognize that God is already there.

So today, I’m not looking for a mountaintop.

I’m looking around my kitchen.

My living room.

My car.

My messy schedule.

My ordinary day.

And I’m wondering what I’ve been too busy trying to make meaningful to notice was already sacred.

Something to think about…

What if you stopped waiting for a holy moment?

What if you simply looked at the life you already have and asked:

Where is God here?

Not in the perfect moment.

Not in the impressive moment.

Here.

Right in the middle of your ordinary life.

Posted in Home & Seasonal Living

Where Home Begins

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I’ve always thought the words house and home were interchangeable.

They’re not.

One is a building. The other is an experience.

Anyone who’s lived any sort of life knows what I’m talking about.

When I was married and living in Texas, my house was just that: a house. It was filled with people I loved, especially my daughters, but overall, it was simply a building. A shelter from storms. A roof over our heads.

Within those walls were happy moments, little sparkles of what could have been, and the saving grace I always found in my children’s laughter.

But it was also the place where I learned how to become the most insignificant version of myself.

It was where harsh words were spoken instead of loving ones. Where accusation and regret hung like cobwebs in the corners. Where I longed for a life that seemed to belong to everyone else because I couldn’t imagine it ever happening to me.

Thankfully, divorce freed me.

Yes, the divorce was painful. But it gave me freedom.

And my girls and I came home.

Our home wasn’t perfect. It was a weird little townhome with odd walls, a strange galley kitchen, and a funkily placed bathroom. It needed paint, a new furnace, a new ceiling, and a new roof.

It was a money pit.

But my mother was there.

And in the middle of all my hurt and pain, she welcomed us…home.

For all its imperfections, it was home until the day she died.

Then, quietly, it reverted back to being a house.

A very lonely one, filled with memories and grief.

My girls and I lived like nomads in two different apartments. They were houses, but somehow, we managed to turn them into homes.

We grieved there. We healed there. We grew there.

Then my sister and I bought our current house.

Turning it into a home has been a challenge. How do you merge four distinct personalities and settle them all under one roof?

Challenging?

Yes.

Worth it?

YES.

Because over these past two years, we’ve made it a home.

And I notice the shift whenever one or more of us isn’t here.

The house feels different.

Quieter.

Less alive.

Which brings me to the question you might be asking:

“Why are you telling me all this, Vikki Lynn?”

Or maybe:

“When are you going to tell me how to make my house feel like a home?”

I’m not.

That’s not what I’m here for.

Oh, I have things that make our house cozy. Candles. Crocheted blankets. Pillows. Comfy furniture. Even a fireplace.

But none of those things make this a home.

Home is when my dad and stepmom come over every Saturday night and we share a meal while telling the same stories we’ve told a hundred times before.

Home is when my daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter visit, and I get to pull out all the little things I’ve bought just for her because, well…

I’m a Grandma.

And I can.

Home is pulling out the carefully labeled holiday bins and decorating for every single season because it’s a joy to do it with someone who loves holidays as much as I do.

Home is every home-cooked meal we share, whether we’re gathered around the dining room table or sitting in front of the television watching Midsomer Murders.

Home is where my sisters plant, place, and carefully tend to all the beautiful flowers out front and in back. It’s where the birds come to eat, knowing there will always be food waiting for them.

(The squirrels come to dine, too, but we won’t talk about that.)

Home isn’t made with objects.

It’s made with memories.

With people.

With smells.

With sounds.

It’s made with laughter echoing through the halls, familiar voices filling the rooms, and the quiet comfort of knowing you belong.

That’s what turns a house into a home.

Not the furniture.

Not the paint.

Not the perfectly decorated rooms.

Not even the fireplace.

It’s the life that happens inside those four walls.

The people who fill them.

The memories that linger long after everyone has gone to bed.

The laughter.

The tears.

The ordinary Tuesday nights and the big Saturday dinners.

The holidays and the hard days.

The coming home.

Because maybe that’s the difference between a house and a home.

A house is where you live.

Home is where you belong.

Posted in Life, Lately

Monday Blessings

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

Monday is never, ever my favorite day.

The weekend is over, and a long week stretches ahead, full of what I like to call “busy nothings.”

If you’re anything like me, you start dreading it on Sunday night as the Great Reset begins. Prepping lunches. Setting up the coffee pot. (I don’t do Keurig, and my Nespresso is reserved for afternoon lattes, should I desire one.) Choosing clothes for the week. Maybe putting away whatever laundry was done over the weekend.

I just don’t like Mondays.

And I don’t like feeling that way.

It makes Sunday go by far too quickly. And since it’s the Lord’s Day, I feel a certain twinge of yuck spending the latter half of it all grousy because Monday is coming.

I was thinking about this last night as I sat with a cup of tea, Percy at my side, wishing I could do anything – ANYTHING – other than work a 9-to-5.

But God has been dealing with me lately about ingratitude over things I once asked Him for. And as I sat there, He reminded me of that.

Suddenly, my mind was flooded with little snapshots from the past weekend, and I realized just how much I have to be grateful for.

Then I wondered: What if I started Monday differently?

What if, instead of beginning the week thinking about everything I don’t want to do, I began by thanking God for everything He has given me?

What if I started Monday with gratitude?

Thankful for the blessings of the weekend. Thankful for the good things that happened during the week. Thankful for the specific, ordinary things that can so easily get overlooked.

So I decided to make it a habit.

And just like that, Monday Blessings was born.

Each Monday, I’ll share at least five specific blessings I’m thanking God for. These won’t necessarily be the big, obvious blessings we enjoy every day – the blood of Jesus, our freedom, our families, our jobs, our homes.

Those are blessings worth thanking God for every single day.

But these will be the specific blessings. The little things. The things that happened this week that made me stop and say, “Thank You, Lord.”

So let’s begin.

1. Two new ladies on my team

The two ladies joining our team at work are wicked smart and absolutely amazing. I can’t wait to work with them, learn from what they know, and finally have some input into how I can grow what has, up until now, been a pretty solitary role.

I’m really looking forward to what this could become.

2. My sister and her selflessness

Once again, my sister cared for Percy while I traveled for the weekend.

He does so well with her, and I’m incredibly grateful that I don’t have to board him when I’m away. Knowing he’s home, comfortable, and being loved makes traveling so much easier.

3. A new perspective

God has given me some new inspiration concerning my overall attitude toward my blessings.

Honestly, just having an attitude change about anything at my age is pretty cool.

But this one feels especially important.

4. Time with my Sophia

I cannot overstate this one.

Every time I see Sophia, there is something new. New growth. New abilities. New movements. New little things she can do that she couldn’t do the last time I saw her.

And I cannot get enough of her hugs.

They are life.

5. Coming home to a home-cooked meal

Again, courtesy of my sister.

But there was just something magical about coming home, sitting down to a lovely home-cooked meal, having a cup of tea, and then settling into my chair.

Nothing spectacular.

Nothing Instagram-worthy.

Just home.

And sometimes, that’s more than enough.

So here I am on Monday morning, trying something new.

Instead of looking at Monday as the end of everything good and the beginning of another long week, I’m choosing to stop and notice what God has already given me.

Because maybe Mondays aren’t the problem.

Maybe I’ve just been looking at them from the wrong direction.

What blessings are you grateful for this Monday?

Photo by Amanda Selby on Unsplash