Posted in Walking Through the Bible

Walking Through the Bible: Numbers

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)

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.

Posted in Faith in Real Life

The Freedom of Childlike Faith

Fully trusting God isn’t as hard as I once thought.

Or is it?

Jesus tells us that if we want to enter the kingdom of heaven, we must become like little children (Matthew 18:3–4). It’s a passage I’ve heard all my life. For years I thought, That’s sweet. Jesus loves the little children. Then I moved on to what I considered the “important” verses – the ones about blessings, healing, and provision.

But I’m in a season of searching.

I’m digging deeper into what the Bible is really about and what it actually says about the way I’m meant to live. And this past weekend, those verses about childlike faith came rushing back to me.

Last week I spent several days with my 17-month-old granddaughter, Sophia. Becoming a grandparent gives you a completely different perspective. You’re no longer looking at a child through the eyes of responsibility alone. You simply get to delight in them.

Well…and maybe teach them a thing or two.

Like how to cross their arms defiantly. (I’m sure my daughter and son-in-law appreciate that.)

As I watched Sophia, I couldn’t help but notice the complete trust she has in the adults who love her.

When her daddy swings her around, she never worries he’ll let go. His strength makes her brave. She laughs, reaches for him again, and eagerly waits for the next adventure, completely unaware that he leaves the house every day to work so he can provide everything she needs.

When she reaches for her mommy, she knows she’ll be picked up. When she gets hurt, she runs straight into her mother’s arms, convinced that one kiss can make everything better.

When she toddles into the kitchen, she simply expects there will be food waiting for her. She never wonders if there will be enough. She trusts that her parents have already prepared exactly what she needs.

Sophia never lies awake worrying about tomorrow.

She doesn’t stress over mortgages or car payments.

She doesn’t wonder whether she’ll have enough to eat next week.

She doesn’t question whether someone will take care of her.

She simply rests in the confidence that her parents will provide everything she needs.

As I played with her, I realized even her expectations of me were simple. She trusted that I wouldn’t let anything happen to her and that I, too, would care for her.

Watching her, I realized just how free she really is.

She runs without hesitation.

She climbs without fear.

She launches herself onto couch cushions without stopping to calculate everything that could go wrong.

Without fear.

Without hesitation.

Without overthinking.

She simply believes everything will be okay.

And suddenly I realized…

That’s exactly how I want to live.

Not the kind of rest that comes with a cozy chair, a good book, and a cup of tea. The kind of rest that settles deep in your soul. The kind of rest Jesus promised when He said, “Come to Me…and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28-30).

The more I pray and study God’s Word, the more I’m discovering something incredibly rich. I’ve spent much of my life bound by fear.

Fear of failure.

Fear of rejection.

Fear of being hurt.

Fear of not having enough.

Fear of not being liked.

Fear of not being loved.

And every one of those fears has held me back.

If I’m honest, it’s something I’ve battled every time I’ve done something outside my comfort zone – even something joyful, like driving three hours to see my granddaughter or taking a trip to visit my sister in Tennessee. Before I even leave, my mind has already imagined a thousand things that could go wrong. The excuses on how I can’t go pile up before I’ve even packed my bag.

That’s how fear works.

It whispers “what if” until we forget who is actually in control.

But lately something has changed.

Whenever fear starts telling me that something terrible could happen, I hear another voice speaking to my heart.

“That’s not going to be your story.”

Sometimes it’s so strong that I find myself saying it out loud.

“Nope. That’s not going to be my story.”

Then another truth follows close behind. It’s become the antidote to decades of fear. I hear my heavenly Father gently reminding me:

“I cannot fail.”

What confidence there is in those four words.

God cannot fail because His character is perfect. He is faithful to every promise He has ever made (Numbers 23:19). He works all things together for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28). He will never leave me nor forsake me (Hebrews 13:5). His plans cannot be thwarted (Job 42:2).

He has never failed me.

And He never will.

Does that mean life suddenly becomes a Disney movie where I’m wearing a size six dress while woodland animals fold my laundry?

Absolutely not.

After nearly fifty-eight years on this earth, I’ve learned that life still happens.

People disappoint us.

Bodies grow older.

Dreams sometimes take unexpected turns.

Hard seasons come.

Jesus never promised an easy life. In fact, He told us, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

The difference isn’t that trouble disappears.

The difference is that fear no longer gets to lead.

Like little Sophia confidently trusting her parents to provide everything she needs, I can trust my Heavenly Father to provide everything I truly need (Matthew 6:25-34). Before I even ask, He already knows what I need (Matthew 6:8).

That’s what childlike faith really is.

Not childish faith.

Childlike faith.

Trusting.

Resting.

Knowing.

Being fully confident that my Father is good.

This past weekend, God spoke directly to my heart through my pastor.

He said, “Your overwhelming pursuit of an answer has become a problem. I want you to trust Me and trust My Word.”

Immediately I knew the Lord was exposing something in me.

I’d been running everywhere trying to figure out God’s will for my life on my own instead of quietly sitting at His feet. I was searching for answers when He was inviting me into relationship. Mary chose that better way when she sat at Jesus’ feet while Martha busied herself with everything else (Luke 10:38-42).

That’s where I want to be.

At His feet.

Listening.

Waiting.

Trusting.

Childlike faith isn’t pretending we have no questions.- It’s choosing to trust the One who already has every answer. It’s believing that our Father is good even when we don’t understand. It’s refusing to let fear make our decisions. It’s resting in the confidence that God is who He says He is and will do what He has promised.

Just like a little child trusts a loving parent…

I’m learning to trust my Father.

Completely.

And perhaps that’s been the lesson all along.

Posted in Faith

Learning to Forgive Yourself

There is a kind of forgiveness we don’t talk about nearly enough.

It isn’t about forgiving someone who hurt us. It isn’t about letting go of something someone else did. It is about learning how to forgive ourselves, and for many women, especially in midlife, this becomes one of the quietest and most difficult parts of the journey.

At some point, many of us look back at our lives with a different perspective. We have more wisdom. We have more experience. We have lived through seasons that shaped us. And with that distance, we sometimes begin asking questions we didn’t have the time or emotional space to ask before.

Why didn’t I handle that better?

Why didn’t I slow down more?

Why didn’t I enjoy those years the way I wish I had?

Why didn’t I know then what I know now?

For a long time, I thought those questions meant I needed to fix something about my past. But I see things differently now.

Maybe I wasn’t failing.

Maybe I was surviving.

I was showing up.

I was loving my family.

I was carrying responsibilities that felt heavy.

I was doing the best I could with what I had at the time.

And now, in this season of life, I am learning to look back at my younger self with compassion instead of criticism.

When Survival Mode Felt Like Normal Life

For many years, my life didn’t leave much room for reflection. I worked full time, raised my daughters, managed a home, and carried responsibilities that often felt heavier than I knew how to explain. My days moved quickly, and by the time everything finally became quiet at night, I usually had just enough energy left to rest before waking up and doing it all again.

I didn’t always stop to ask myself if I was okay. I didn’t always think about what I needed emotionally, spiritually, or personally. There wasn’t much time to consider my own dreams or desires because so much of my energy went toward taking care of the people who depended on me.

I simply kept going.

Because at that point in my life, that was what I knew how to do.

And I know I’m not alone.

So many women spend years living in survival mode without ever calling it that. We don’t always recognize it while we are in it. We simply call it motherhood. We call it responsibility. We call it doing what needs to be done.

We show up because people need us. We keep moving because there is always another task waiting. We handle the next challenge because that is what life requires in certain seasons.

But somewhere along the way, many of us forget to offer ourselves the same grace we would offer someone else.

Looking Back With New Eyes in Midlife

Now I find myself in a very different season of life.

My daughters are grown. My home is quieter. My responsibilities have changed. I still work full time, and life still has structure and purpose, but the constant urgency that once filled every corner of my days has softened.

And in that quiet, memories have a way of returning.

Not just the big moments.

The everyday ones.

The mornings when I was exhausted but still had to get everyone where they needed to be. The evenings when I was running on empty but still had things that needed to get done. The moments when I wondered if I was doing enough, even though I was giving everything I had.

For years, I looked back at that version of myself and judged her.

I wondered why I didn’t have more patience. Why I didn’t slow down more. Why I didn’t enjoy those years more. Why I didn’t make different choices.

But then I realized something important.

I was judging my younger self with wisdom she didn’t have yet.

I expected her to know what only time could teach me.

She didn’t have today’s perspective. She didn’t have today’s understanding. She was carrying the responsibilities in front of her with the strength she had at that moment.

She wasn’t failing.

She was surviving.

Giving Yourself the Grace You Needed Back Then

One of the hardest lessons I have learned in midlife is that we often give other people much more compassion than we give ourselves.

We can listen to another woman share her struggles and immediately understand why she made certain choices. We can see her exhaustion and recognize her effort. We can look at her story and offer kindness.

But when we look at our own past, we often become our harshest critics.

We expect perfection from the woman who was tired.

We expect patience from the woman who was overwhelmed.

We expect strength from the woman who was already carrying so much.

But God never asked me to be perfect.

He asked me to be faithful.

And when I look back now, I can see that I was faithful even in the moments when I felt weak. I was faithful when my prayers were short. I was faithful when I didn’t feel like I had everything together. I was faithful when I simply put one foot in front of the other and kept going.

Second Corinthians 12:9 reminds us:

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

I understand that verse differently now than I did years ago.

Because I can see that God met me in my weakness. He carried me through seasons when I didn’t even realize how much I needed Him.

Forgiving the Woman Who Was Just Trying to Survive

At some point in midlife, many of us have to meet our younger selves again.

Not the version we wish we had been.

Not the version we think we should have been.

The real one.

The tired one.

The overwhelmed one.

The woman who carried more than she ever said out loud.

And when we meet her, we have a choice.

We can continue judging her, or we can forgive her.

Because she did the best she could with what she had.

She didn’t have today’s wisdom.

She didn’t have today’s confidence.

She didn’t have today’s emotional distance.

She had the responsibilities in front of her and the strength she could find at the time.

And somehow, she kept going.

God Was Present Even in the Hard Seasons

One of the most healing realizations I have discovered in this season is that God never left me during the years when I was simply trying to make it.

Even when my prayers were short.

Even when I felt too tired to spend quiet time with Him.

Even when I didn’t feel as spiritually connected as I wanted to be.

He was there.

He sustained me when I felt empty.

He carried me when I felt like I couldn’t carry one more thing.

Isaiah 46:4 says:

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am He… I will sustain you.”

That promise doesn’t only apply to where I am today.

It reaches backward into every season I questioned.

God was present then.

He is present now.

Healing Means Changing How You Carry the Past

For a long time, I thought healing meant wishing things had happened differently.

I thought healing meant going back and somehow becoming a better version of myself.

But I have learned something different.

Healing doesn’t change what happened.

Healing changes how we carry what happened.

It takes the weight of shame and replaces it with grace.

It turns criticism into compassion.

It allows us to acknowledge our mistakes without living trapped by them.

The voice that once said, “You should have done better,” slowly becomes quieter.

And the voice of grace becomes louder.

The Freedom That Comes With Forgiving Yourself

Something changes when you finally forgive yourself for the years when you were simply trying to survive.

You stop punishing yourself for things you cannot change.

You stop replaying old moments with expectations your younger self could never have met.

You stop holding yourself responsible for knowing things you had not learned yet.

And instead, you begin living with more freedom.

More gentleness.

More peace.

Philippians 3:13–14 reminds us:

“Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal…”

That doesn’t mean our past doesn’t matter.

Our past shaped us.

It means our past does not have to define us.

Becoming Gentle With the Woman You Used to Be

There is something deeply beautiful about learning to become gentle with your younger self.

Not because she got everything right.

She didn’t.

But because she deserved grace too.

When I look back now, I don’t only see the difficult seasons.

I see strength.

I don’t only see exhaustion.

I see endurance.

I don’t only see survival.

I see a woman God carried through every season and never abandoned.

And in learning to forgive her, I have discovered something I didn’t expect.

She wasn’t broken.

She was becoming.

And so am I.

Let’s Keep the Conversation Going

Have you found yourself looking back at your younger years with more compassion in this season of life?

What is one thing you wish you could tell the woman you used to be?

I would love to hear your story in the comments. Your words may be exactly what another woman needs to read today.

If this encouraged you, share it with a friend who may need the reminder that she deserves grace too.

Posted in Home & Seasonal Living

The Home I Always Wanted to Create in Midlife

There is something about getting older that changes the way we see home.

Home becomes more than the place where we sleep, keep our belongings, and go through our daily routines. It becomes a reflection of the life we have lived, the seasons we have walked through, and the peace we have learned to appreciate in ways we may not have understood before.

For most of my life, I carried a picture in my heart of the kind of home I wanted to create. I didn’t always know how to describe it, but I knew how I wanted it to feel.

I wanted a classic, cozy home. A place that felt warm, welcoming, and steady. A home with a fireplace that actually gets used on cold winter nights instead of simply being something pretty to look at. A home filled with books because someone actually reads them, not because they make a nice decoration. A home that embraces simple living in a world that constantly tells us to move faster.

And if I’m honest, I always pictured having a little land too. Nothing extravagant. Just enough space to breathe. Trees moving in the wind, a small garden changing with the seasons, and maybe water nearby like a lake or creek reminding me that life has its own rhythm.

For years, I thought I was dreaming about a house.

Now I realize I was longing for peace.

Creating a Home That Feels Like Peace

Life looked very different for me during the years when I was raising my daughters and working full time.

My days stayed full from morning until night. I handled responsibilities, solved problems, and kept moving because that was what life required. I didn’t spend much time thinking about what I needed or what kind of environment helped me feel refreshed.

During those years, my home served a purpose. It was where we lived, rested, and made memories, but it often felt more functional than peaceful.

And I don’t say that with regret.

Those years shaped me. They strengthened me. They taught me resilience and showed me what I was capable of handling.

But I remember those quiet moments at the end of the day when everything finally settled down. I would climb into bed exhausted, knowing tomorrow would bring another full day of doing it all over again.

For a long time, that became my normal.

I didn’t realize how much I craved peace until life finally started to slow down.

Finding a Slower Rhythm in Midlife

Now I find myself in a different season of life.

I still work full time. I still have responsibilities. Life is not empty or without purpose. But the pace has changed.

My daughters are grown and building lives of their own. I get to watch them experience new seasons, including motherhood, while remembering what it felt like when I was the one carrying the weight of so much responsibility.

In some ways, life feels slower now.

There is more quiet.

More space.

Less urgency.

But at the same time, time seems to move faster than ever.

The days no longer feel like a blur of survival, but the years seem to pass quickly. I find myself looking around and wondering how I arrived at this season so soon.

That realization has changed the way I see my home.

It has also changed the way I want to live inside it.

The Home I Dreamed About Was Taking Shape All Along

For years, I thought the home I wanted existed somewhere in the future.

I thought I would eventually arrive at a season where everything looked exactly how I imagined.

But now I see something different.

The home I wanted has been taking shape all along.

My home today is not perfect, and honestly, I don’t want it to be. I want it to feel lived in. I want it to tell a story.

It feels warm and peaceful. It holds quiet mornings, conversations, laughter, and moments of rest.

My sisters keep flowers outside when the seasons allow, and inside my home you will find handmade blankets I created with my own hands. There is something comforting about making things slowly in a world that rushes everything.

I have learned to appreciate simple things.

Opening the windows and letting fresh air move through the house.

Standing outside and listening to the birds.

Feeling the evening breeze.

Enjoying a quiet moment without feeling like I should be doing something else.

Those small moments have become some of the biggest blessings.

I no longer feel like I am chasing life.

I feel like I am finally living it.

Building a Peaceful Home Through Faith

The older I get, the more I understand that a peaceful home does not happen by accident. It grows through intention, gratitude, and surrender.

Proverbs 24:3–4 reminds me:

“By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures.”

For years, I thought of a beautiful home in terms of what I could see.

Now I understand that the most important things inside a home cannot always be seen.

Peace.

Love.

Faith.

Memories.

Presence.

Psalm 23:2–3 speaks deeply into this season:

“He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul.”

I understand that differently now.

Rest is not something I only need at the end of a long day.

Rest is something I need woven into my everyday life.

Isaiah 32:18 also reminds me of God’s desire for us:

“My people will live in peaceful dwelling places, in secure homes, in undisturbed places of rest.”

That kind of peace feels less like a dream now and more like something God invites us to experience.

Choosing Simple Living in a Digital World

One of the biggest changes I have noticed in midlife is how much I crave simplicity.

Not because I want to go backward.

Because I want to be more present.

I want real pages instead of endless scrolling. I want quiet mornings instead of constant notifications. I want tea in a favorite mug, books stacked around my home, and spaces that encourage me to slow down.

I want my home to feel like a place where life happens, not another place where I feel pressure to keep up.

Because I have learned something important.

Peace does not come from adding more.

Peace comes from noticing more.

The Home I Always Wanted

When I look around now, I realize the home I always wanted was never just about the house itself.

It was about the feeling.

It was about creating a place where I could breathe.

A place where I could rest.

A place where I could see God’s goodness in the everyday moments.

My home holds my memories, my growth, my joys, and even the difficult seasons that shaped me.

Most importantly, it reminds me of a faithful God who carried me through every season before this one and continues to meet me right here.

And maybe that is the greatest gift of midlife.

Not creating a perfect home.

Creating a peaceful one.

Let’s Keep the Conversation Going

What does home mean to you in this season of life? Has your idea of home changed as you have gotten older?

I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments. Share your story and let’s encourage one another as we create homes filled with faith, peace, and joy.

Photo by Juan Davila on Unsplash