Tag: Christian encouragement for women over 50

Posted in Midlife & Beyond

Almost 58 and Still Figuring It Out

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

Life is funny. Or so they say.

I remember being in high school, long ago, and thinking I would have my whole life figured out by the time I reached my 50s. Fifty seemed positively ancient back then.

Then I graduated and started working. I remember thinking, “Just a few more years, and then I’ll get married and life will begin.”

I assumed I would spend my 20s sorting everything out and then spend my 30s really living life.

Of course, life had other plans.

My 30s arrived, and I found myself in an unhappy marriage with two beautiful girls who still bring so much sparkle to my life. I remember thinking, This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

By the end of my 30s, I was divorced and living back at home, thank God. I entered my 40s trying to rebuild not only my life, but myself.

Don’t get me wrong. Divorce freed me to finally start living again, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t one of the most painful seasons of my life.

Just Keeping My Head Above Water

I feel like I surfed through most of my 40s.

Neither here nor there.

Just maintaining. Keeping my head above water. Doing what needed to be done and trying to figure out what came next.

Then, near the end of my 40s, life changed again.

Big.

And painful.

I lost the two women who had been my anchors.

So once again, I entered another decade rebuilding my life and rebuilding myself.

Only this time, there wasn’t anyone to make it happen for me like there had been before.

It was just me and God.

Eight Years of Growth

I’m almost 58 now, and these past eight years haven’t exactly been easy.

But something has changed.

I can honestly say I’ve probably experienced more personal growth during these years than I did in all the decades before them.

I built a life for my girls and me as we learned to heal after losing my mom and my aunt.

I watched my little girl get married to the man of her dreams.

My older daughter was diagnosed with autism and found her person for this life.

I bought a house with my sister.

I became a grandmother.

Those things are precious. They are some of the sweetest gifts God has given me.

But even those things don’t compare to the deeper work God has been doing in me.

The correction.

The pruning.

The uncomfortable moments when He lovingly shows me that some things I thought were simply who I am are actually things He wants to change.

And honestly, that has been one of the greatest gifts of this season.

Finally Saying Yes

For the first time in my life, I feel like I am fully submitted to His will, whatever that may be.

And yes, I’m saying yes.

Although I am still respectfully asking Him not to relocate me to Florida or call me to be a missionary somewhere without air conditioning, where bugs and snakes are apparently considered part of the scenery.

But other than that?

Yes, Lord.

I’m also finally beginning to release my Vulcan death grip on old hurts.

And hear me when I say this: letting go of past hurts isn’t always about just forgiving someone else. Sometimes it’s about repenting for the part I played in the story.

That one hurts.

But it’s also freeing.

For a long time, I thought healing meant getting past what other people had done to me. Now I’m realizing that healing also means allowing God to show me where I need to take responsibility, change, repent, and move forward.

That kind of honesty isn’t always comfortable.

But freedom rarely is.

So What’s the Plan?

So what’s the plan as I head toward my 60s?

Start now.

Don’t be a “one day” girl.

Be a “day one” woman.

I heard a pastor say that once, and it has stayed with me.

I have two years and two months left in my 50s, and I don’t want to end this decade the way the last two ended, with me simply surviving, maintaining, or waiting for the next thing to happen.

I want to walk into my 60s prepared.

Not perfect.

Prepared.

Strong in Mind and Body

I want to be strong.

Strong in mind.

Strong in body.

Strong in faith.

I want a healthy mind that recognizes the enemy’s attacks instead of entertaining every fearful thought that walks through the door.

I want to be like a deeply rooted tree, steady when the storms come and not swept away by every tornado of what if and what now.

I want to live in a healthy body, fueled in a way that honors God and strong enough to move easily.

I want to dance in it.

Ride bikes in it.

Get down on the floor and roll around with my grandchildren in it.

And I want to be able to do whatever God asks of me for as long as He gives me.

A Prayer Life That Moves Heaven

I want a prayer life that breaks chains and rattles walls.

I want my daughters and sons-in-law to know they have a praying mama.

More than that, I want my grandchildren to grow up knowing, My grandma prays. And when Grandma prays, Heaven moves.

I don’t want prayer to be something I squeeze into my day when everything else is finished.

I want it to be the foundation underneath everything else.

Less Fear, More Obedience

I want to become fearless about reaching people for Jesus.

Not just being a pillar in my church, but being willing to step outside the comfortable walls of church and talk to someone about Jesus without letting fear talk me out of obedience.

I want to be willing to have the conversation.

To offer encouragement.

To pray for someone.

To share what Jesus has done in my life.

And I want my words to sound less like me and more like the Father.

Freedom to Say Yes

I want to be debt free, owing no one anything except a debt of love.

Because there is a different kind of freedom that comes when you aren’t financially tied down and can say yes when God puts someone on your heart.

We are blessed to be a blessing.

And I want to be free to bless people.

I want to be closer than ever to retirement, not because I don’t want to work, but because I want the work I do to be God-ordained work.

I want to use the gifts, talents, experiences, and even the hobbies God has given me to encourage people.

I want to reach younger women.

I want to minister to older women.

I want to write.

I want to create.

I want to serve.

I want to make people laugh.

I want to tell stories that point people back to Jesus.

And I don’t want to wait until I retire to start living that way.

This Is the Part That Matters

That’s the thing I’m finally beginning to understand. The woman I want to be in my 60s isn’t going to magically appear when I blow out the candles on my 60th birthday. The life I want isn’t waiting for me somewhere in the future. It is being built right now, in the choices I make today, the things I surrender today, the hurts I finally release, the habits I build, the prayers I pray, and the obedience that sometimes feels uncomfortable.

Maybe that’s what this season of life is really about. Not starting over. Not becoming someone completely different. But allowing God to finish the work He started in me all those years ago.

I spent a lot of my younger years waiting for my life to begin. I don’t want to do that anymore. My life isn’t waiting for me somewhere in my 60s. It’s happening right now.

And for the first time, I don’t need to have the whole thing figured out. I just need to know Who is leading me.

So here I am. Almost 58. Still learning. Still growing. Still messing things up occasionally. Still asking God to please keep the snakes out of my future. But more surrendered than I’ve ever been, and ready.

Not for some perfect future version of my life.

For today. For this season. For whatever God puts in front of me next. 

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 Walking Through the Bible

Walking Through the Bible: Numbers

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

When I started reading Numbers, I expected a book filled with censuses, lists, and laws. Instead, I found a powerful story about God’s holiness, incredible patience, and His unwavering grace toward a people who continually struggled to trust Him. More than that, I found myself in the story.

1. God’s grace is greater than Israel’s stubbornness.

One thing became clear almost immediately: the Israelites were incredibly stubborn. Time after time, they doubted God, complained, rebelled, and forgot everything He had already done for them.

Yet every time they failed, God’s grace met them. His judgment was real, but so was His mercy. Reading Numbers reminded me that God’s patience is far greater than I often realize.

2. God takes every sin seriously.

One of the most sobering moments in Numbers is when Moses disobeys God’s specific instruction by striking the rock instead of speaking to it.

To us, it can seem like such a small thing.

But God is holy, and obedience matters.

Moses’ actions kept him from entering the Promised Land, reminding me that there really is no such thing as “small” sin when it comes to a holy God.

3. God’s promises really do come to pass.

I’ll admit that I’ve always skimmed through the opening census.

It’s just numbers…

Or so I thought.

This time I realized those numbers represented something much bigger.

They were the fulfillment of God’s promise to Abraham – that his descendants would become as numerous as the stars. Every family counted, every tribe listed, was evidence that God keeps His promises, even generations later.

4. Rebellion often begins with distrust.

As I continued reading, the rebellion only grew.

The people wanted to replace Moses and Aaron.

They wanted to return to Egypt.

God was ready to wipe them out, but Moses interceded on their behalf.

Even after Korah’s rebellion ended with the earth literally opening and swallowing people alive, Israel still didn’t fully trust God.

Then came the worship of Baal of Peor, where many of the Israelite men were drawn away by the Moabite women into idolatry.

I found myself asking,

How could they witness miracle after miracle and still rebel?

5. Then I realized…I’m not so different.

It’s easy to shake our heads at the Israelites.

I certainly did.

Until I realized something.

They didn’t have the Bible like we do today. They depended on Moses and on God’s visible presence among them. Of course, that should have been enough, and yet they still struggled to trust.

Then I began thinking about all of God’s instructions regarding worship, sacrifice, feasts, and offerings.

At first, I wondered how they managed to keep up with all of it.

Then it hit me.

I was viewing their lives through the lens of my modern, distracted world. Their entire national identity revolved around worshiping God. Every instruction was meant to keep Him at the center of their lives.

He wasn’t trying to burden them.

He was setting them apart.

Israel was called to be a holy people, belonging completely to Him.

6. Numbers became a mirror.

One afternoon while I was out walking, God gently convicted me.

I realized how often I’ve complained about the very blessings I once prayed desperately to receive.

I’ve been guilty of wanting to “go back to Egypt.”

Not literally—but in my attitude.

I’ve complained about responsibilities that are actually blessings. I’ve questioned God’s provision after watching Him provide again and again. I’ve worried about tomorrow even though He has faithfully cared for me countless times before.

Reading Numbers stopped being about Israel.

It became about me.

7. Trust is something I have to choose.

I’ve spent years seeing God’s faithfulness.

Miracle after miracle.

Provision after provision.

Answered prayer after answered prayer.

Yet there are still moments when I wonder whether He will come through again. Numbers reminded me that trust isn’t built by seeing more miracles. It’s built by remembering the God who has already proven Himself faithful.

I’ve repented of my complaining and asked God to help me become someone who truly trusts Him and to live as one of His set-apart children with a grateful heart instead of a grumbling one.

Final Thoughts

If I had to summarize what Numbers taught me in one sentence, it would be this:

God is holy, God is faithful, and God’s grace is far greater than my tendency to forget both.

I went into Numbers expecting lists and censuses.

I came away with a renewed appreciation for God’s holiness, His incredible patience, and a reminder that I need to stop looking so much like the Israelites and start looking more like someone who truly trusts the God who has never once failed me.

And perhaps that’s one of the greatest gifts of reading Scripture.

It doesn’t just tell us who God is.

It reveals who we are and lovingly invites us to become more like Christ.

Posted in Faith in Real Life

I’m Not Super Christian Wonder Woman (And That’s Okay)

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

Can I be honest with you?

I’m not Super Christian Wonder Woman.

I’m not.

I’m just me.

Vikki Lynn.

Vikki to my friends and family, but Vikki Lynn here because that’s what my mom wanted me to be called. She always said my full name just fit me, so I’m keeping it.

But I digress.

That’s easy to do with a brain like mine.

I love this blog. I love this space so much. But somewhere along the way, I started feeling like I had to become someone I’m not.

I thought I had to be Super Christian Wonder Woman.

The woman who always had the perfect words.
The woman who always had the perfect lesson.
The woman who had everything figured out.

But that’s not who I am.

I’m just an ordinary woman living an ordinary life, trying to become the best version of myself one day at a time.

And honestly?

I think that’s exactly where God wants me.

I’m learning more about God than I ever have before. I’m studying my Bible in a way I never have before. I’m learning what it means to trust Him, to walk with Him, and to see Him not just in the big moments, but in the everyday ones.

I’m also trying to take better care of myself because that menopause weight gain is no joke. I’m trying to get my body moving again so I can keep up with my granddaughter, enjoy this season of life, and feel better in the body God gave me.

I’m learning.

I’m growing.

I’m still figuring things out.

And I’m done pretending I’m not.

When I started writing for this blog, I thought every post needed to have some deep spiritual lesson attached to it. I thought I needed to always have the perfect Scripture, the perfect takeaway, and the perfect words.

But God doesn’t ask me to be perfect.

He asks me to be His.

And that changes everything.

So I’m going back to being just me.

Sometimes I’ll write about what the Holy Spirit is teaching me in this season of my life.

Sometimes I’ll write about how good my morning coffee was.

Sometimes I’ll share a book I loved, a crochet project I’m working on, a quiet moment outside, or something funny my dog Percy did.

Because God is still there.

He is in all of it.

He is in the ordinary, mundane moments of my ordinary life.

Actually, He is the only extraordinary there is.

And that is where Faith Love & Joy comes from.

Faith

My faith is not about having a perfect life.

It is about knowing that God is sovereign.

It is faith that my sins were nailed to Jesus’ cross.

It is faith that I am no longer defined by my mistakes, my past, or my failures, but that I am a fully loved child of God.

It is faith that I am meant to live my life from the truth of who I am in Him.

It is faith that even when life is hard, even when things don’t go the way I planned, Jesus has already provided everything I need.

It is faith that God can take the painful parts of my story and use them for His honor and His glory.

And it is faith that you are not here by accident.

Maybe you need this little corner of the internet today.

Maybe I do too.

Love

Love is what fills the everyday moments.

Love for my life as it is right now, even when it feels ordinary.

Love for Jesus.

Love for my church.

Love for my family and friends.

Love for my dog Percy and even my daughter’s cat.

Love for crochet and embroidery.

Love for books and reading.

Love for the little things that make a house feel like home and a day feel special.

Life doesn’t have to be extraordinary to be meaningful.

Sometimes the most beautiful things are the simple things we almost miss.

Joy

Joy is what I want to find and share here.

Joy in sitting outside on a quiet day.

Joy in hearing my granddaughter’s laughter.

Joy when the Holy Spirit finally helps me understand something I’ve been trying to make sense of for years.

Joy in living with my sisters and daughter.

Joy in traveling and seeing new places.

Joy in a good book, a cozy blanket, a cup of coffee, and a peaceful moment.

Joy in realizing that this life I’m living right now is a gift.

So this is my invitation to you.

Come sit with me.

Bring your coffee or tea.

Cozy up on the couch.

Stay awhile.

I hope this is still a place where you feel encouraged, inspired, and reminded that God is present in every season of life.

Not because I have all the answers.

Not because I’m Super Christian Wonder Woman.

But because I’m Vikki Lynn.

And I’m walking this road too.

Welcome to my corner.

I’m so glad you’re here.