Tag: prayer

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 Family Stories

Natasha Romanov: Black Widow Kitty

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I have another confession to make.

I never wanted a cat.

My mom never wanted a cat either.

In fact, she was very clear on the subject. Cats belonged somewhere else—outside, with someone else, preferably far away from her house.

And yet…

Somewhere along the way, we became a cat family.

Because sometimes God has a wonderful sense of humor.

A Little Natasha History

Natasha Romanov is her full name.

Yes, she is named after the Marvel character.

Yes, there’s a story behind that.

Originally, Natasha belonged to my aunt. As a tiny kitten, she was known as Lightning, and she had a personality that lived up to her name.

Unfortunately, she also came equipped with very sharp claws.

And she loved climbing people’s legs.

For most people, that would simply be startling. But my aunt was diabetic and had very little feeling in her legs, making those surprise climbing expeditions a genuine safety concern.

The problem?

Everyone had already fallen in love with her.

Lightning was family.

So we had to find another solution.

At the same time, my daughter Shelby was struggling. She had returned home after leaving college just one semester in and was navigating some difficult mental health challenges. She needed something good—something to care for, something that reminded her she was needed.

Lightning became that something.

After several heartfelt conversations (and probably a little begging), my aunt agreed that Lightning should come live with us.

No dramatic rescue mission.

No permanent fallout.

Just a new home.

Along with her new home came a new name.

Natasha Romanov.

Black Widow Kitty.

Named after Shelby’s favorite superhero.

And honestly?

The name couldn’t fit her better.

Natasha has always carried herself with a little mystery, a little attitude, and just enough confidence to ensure everyone understands exactly who’s in charge.

(For the record, it’s her.)

The Great Percy-Natasha Treaty

Before Natasha could officially assume command of the household, there was one rather important introduction to make.

Percy.

Thankfully, Shelby had enough common sense to know you don’t simply toss a cat and a dog into the same room and hope for the best.

There were weeks of slow introductions.

Lots of sniffing.

Watching.

Staring.

Judging.

Eventually, they negotiated what I can only describe as an international peace treaty.

Are Percy and Natasha best friends?

Not even close.

Do they cuddle?

Absolutely not.

Do they play together?

Only if silently judging each other from opposite ends of the room counts as recreation.

But they have something even better.

They have an understanding.

A carefully maintained peace agreement that has lasted for years.

They respect each other’s space. They share the same home. And they’ve mutually decided that neither one is worth the effort of starting a full-scale household war.

Honestly?

That’s probably friendship in adult terms anyway.

Percy is the loyal old gentleman.

Natasha is unquestionably the household CEO.

Percy wants to be wherever his people are.

Natasha wants to remind her people that they belong to her.

Percy loudly announces every visitor.

Natasha quietly evaluates whether they’re worthy of entering her kingdom.

Somehow, it works.

The Cat Who Changed Everything

My mom always insisted she’d never own a cat.

That was her line in the sand.

Then her granddaughter looked at her with those pleading eyes.

Funny how quickly grandparents discover their “firm boundaries” are actually quite flexible.

So yes…

That mousetrap eventually found its way into our home.

And Natasha became part of our family.

More importantly, she became a healing balm for Shelby during one of the hardest seasons of her life.

There was something deeply comforting about having a little creature who depended on her. About those quiet evenings when Natasha curled up nearby. About the kind of unconditional love that asks for very little beyond food, affection, and the occasional opportunity to knock something expensive off a shelf.

Thankfully, Shelby is doing so much better today.

Natasha, however, has decided to expand her responsibilities.

She no longer belongs only to Shelby.

She now oversees the entire household.

During the day, she rotates between sleeping in the chair in my room, on Shelby’s bed, or beside Shelby’s computer.

At night?

She transforms into a tiny black ninja.

She patrols the house.

Inspects her kingdom.

Conducts mysterious cat business.

Probably plots world domination.

When my granddaughter Sophia comes to visit, Natasha wisely disappears.

Not because Sophia has ever been unkind.

She hasn’t.

But Natasha understands one universal truth:

One squirmy, drooling, occasionally loud tiny human is manageable.

Two?

Absolutely not.

A cat has standards.

Our Little Black Cat

Natasha was never part of the plan.

Then again, neither was Percy.

Maybe that’s how some of life’s greatest blessings work.

They don’t arrive when we expect them.

They don’t always look like what we imagined.

Sometimes they arrive with four paws, a tail, and an unwavering belief that they’re running the household.

Percy came into our lives when we needed comfort we didn’t know we were missing.

Natasha came into our lives when Shelby needed hope.

Both became family.

They remind me that love doesn’t always arrive in the package we expect.

Sometimes it comes as a scruffy rescue dog who steals your bed.

Sometimes it comes as a tiny black cat who steals your heart—and probably your favorite pen before knocking it onto the floor.

Sometimes God quietly sends us exactly what we need…

Long before we realize we need it.

So our little family carries on.

One loyal old gentleman.

One very confident Black Widow Kitty.

One daughter who found healing.

One granddaughter who believes everyone with ears deserves love.

And the rest of us, happily living under Natasha’s rule while Percy keeps watch.

A little unusual?

Absolutely.

A little chaotic?

Without question.

But it’s home.

And I wouldn’t change a single thing.

Posted in Family Stories

My Pal Percy

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I have a confession to make.

I really don’t like having a dog. Or a cat. Or any pet, for that matter.

There. I said it.

It’s not that I dislike animals. I think they’re adorable. I love seeing other people’s pets. I’ll happily admire pictures, laugh at funny videos, and tell someone how cute their furry family member is.

But the daily responsibility? The feeding. The letting out. The barking. The constant “please don’t eat that.” The fact that another living creature depends on me every single day? It’s just not really my thing.

And yet…

I love my boy, Percy.

And I lovingly tolerate my daughter’s cat, Natasha.

Because sometimes life has a funny way of giving you something you never thought you wanted and turning it into something you can’t imagine living without.

A Little Percy History

Percy is a Jack Russell Terrier mix. Mixed with what? I have absolutely no idea. He’s a rescue, and honestly, I think that’s part of what makes him so special.

He was found wandering the streets of Chicago’s South Side by a friend of a friend’s husband. We know he’d been abused, although we’ll probably never know exactly what happened to him. When he came to us, he was about two and a half years old and had already experienced more than any dog ever should.

But he also found something else.

He finally found safety.

We got Percy as a “trial run” dog.

Yes, you read that correctly.

A trial run.

He was originally supposed to be a companion for my mom. He also had an important second job: serving as our furry back-door alarm system.

For a while, that’s exactly what he was.

Then something happened that none of us expected.

Eight years ago, we lost my mom.

And somehow, Percy chose me.

I don’t really know how else to explain it. After she was gone, he became attached to me. I became his person.

He became My Pal Percy.

Of course, when he first came to live with us, I had rules.

No furniture.

No sleeping in my room.

He had a perfectly good dog bed on the floor.

Percy apparently thought my list was more of a suggestion.

He never climbed onto the furniture while my mom was alive, but somehow we’d always come home to suspiciously warm couch cushions. There was never any eyewitness testimony, but the evidence was overwhelming.

Eventually, he trained me out of that rule.

Then he tackled the bedroom.

I was determined.

“No, Percy. You are not sleeping on my bed.”

Percy disagreed.

He wanted to be in my room—and only my room. After several nights of determined pacing, sighing, and making sure neither of us got much sleep, I finally surrendered.

He won.

He’s been sleeping on my bed ever since.

Honestly, I’m still not sure exactly when the training reversed and I became the one being trained.

The Smartest Little Supervisor

Percy is incredibly smart.

He has different barks for different situations, and believe me, once you’ve lived with him long enough, you know exactly what each one means. His bark has the unique ability to startle you into next Tuesday.

He’s also become the unofficial star of countless Amazon proof-of-delivery photos because apparently no package can be left safely on the porch without his personal supervision.

But my favorite thing about Percy isn’t how smart he is.

It’s that he’s become part of our family’s story.

On February 19, 2025, Percy suddenly found himself competing for my attention.

My granddaughter, Sophia, arrived.

At first, Percy wasn’t entirely sure what to make of this tiny new human. He gave her a good sniff and apparently decided she smelled a little suspicious.

Sophia, on the other hand, was completely enchanted.

She loves petting his ears. She thinks he’s hilarious. They chase each other around the house while she giggles nonstop.

Percy mostly humors her.

Until he’s done.

Let’s remember, he’s almost eleven years old now. When he’s reached his limit, he gives us a gentle growl—a polite little announcement that says, “I’ve enjoyed our visit, tiny human, but I’d now like to resume my regularly scheduled nap.”

Honestly?

I respect that.

He’s patient. He’s gentle.

He’s simply the best boy.

The best dog I’ve ever known.

And he’ll almost certainly be my last dog.

Not because I don’t love him.

But because I know I’ll never find another Percy.

My Pal Percy

I think sometimes God gives us gifts we never think to ask for.

Percy was never on my list.

I wasn’t looking for a dog. I wasn’t hoping for a companion. I certainly wasn’t dreaming about sharing my bed with a fifteen-pound furry alarm clock who believes every Amazon delivery requires his immediate supervision.

But God knew.

He knew I’d need him.

He knew there would be quiet days when grief felt especially heavy. He knew there would be moments when the house seemed too still. He knew I needed a little shadow following me from room to room, a warm body curled up beside me, and countless reasons to laugh.

Love doesn’t always arrive the way we expect.

Sometimes it has four paws.

Sometimes it snores.

Sometimes it steals your spot on the bed.

Sometimes it becomes My Pal Percy.

Someday, I know the hardest part will be saying goodbye. I don’t like to think about that day, so instead I choose to be grateful for today.

For every wagging tail.

Every funny little habit.

Every bark that makes me jump.

Every look that tells me I’m the most important person in his world.

Because to Percy, I am.

And maybe that’s the greatest gift of all.

Not that I rescued him.

But that somewhere along the way…

He rescued me.

Posted in Motherhood & Grandmotherhood

Letting Go of Adult Children While Staying Connected

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

There comes a season in motherhood when you realize your role has changed, but your love has not.

That transition can feel complicated.

For years, motherhood meant being needed. You knew the schedules, the struggles, the worries, the dreams, and the details of everyday life. You were the one packing lunches, answering questions, offering advice, solving problems, and making sure everyone had what they needed.

Then one day, almost without you realizing it, your children grow up.

They begin making their own decisions. They build their own routines. They create homes, relationships, careers, and lives that no longer revolve around you.

And while you celebrate the adults they have become, a quiet question can sometimes rise in your heart.

Where do I fit now?

How do I let go without feeling like I’m losing them?

How do I love them well without stepping in too much?

I think many mothers wrestle with these questions, especially in midlife. We spent decades pouring ourselves into our children, and learning how to release control while keeping connection takes wisdom, prayer, and a whole lot of trust in God.

Motherhood Changes, But Love Does Not

When my daughters were younger, motherhood looked very different. So much of my time revolved around making sure they were safe, cared for, and prepared for life. I carried responsibilities because they needed me to carry them.

But adulthood changes the relationship.

My daughters no longer need me in the same ways they once did, and if I’m honest, that adjustment has taken time.

There are moments when I miss the days when I knew every detail of their lives. I miss being the first person they came to when something happened. I miss the feeling of being needed in the everyday ways that once defined motherhood.

But I have also learned something beautiful.

Letting go does not mean losing my children.

It means loving them in a new way.

It means moving from being the person who guides every step to being the person who walks beside them.

It means trusting that the same God who carried me through motherhood is also carrying them through adulthood.

The Difference Between Letting Go and Letting Go of Love

Sometimes we confuse letting go with stepping away.

But those are two very different things.

Letting go does not mean I stop caring. It does not mean I stop praying. It does not mean I stop celebrating their joys or hurting when they hurt.

It means I release the responsibility of controlling their choices.

And that can be one of the hardest parts of motherhood.

Because when you love someone deeply, you naturally want to protect them from pain. You want to save them from mistakes. You want to offer wisdom before they even ask for it.

But God never asked me to control my daughters’ lives.

He asked me to trust Him with them.

Proverbs 3:5–6 reminds us:

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”

I have spent many years trusting God with my own life. Now I am learning to trust Him with theirs.

Prayer Becomes Our Greatest Way to Stay Connected

One of the greatest gifts of this season is realizing that I can still be involved in my children’s lives without trying to manage them.

I may not always know every detail.

I may not always understand every decision.

I may not always agree with every choice.

But I can pray.

And prayer is not a small thing.

Prayer connects us to the One who knows our children even better than we do.

Psalm 127:3 says:

“Children are a heritage from the LORD, offspring a reward from Him.”

That verse reminds me that my daughters were never truly mine to hold onto forever. They were gifts God entrusted to me for a season.

My job was never to keep them dependent on me.

My job was to love them, guide them, teach them, and then trust God with the rest.

Finding a New Relationship With Your Adult Children

One of the sweetest parts of this season is discovering who my daughters are as adults.

I no longer only see the little girls I raised.

I see women with their own thoughts, dreams, strengths, and experiences.

I get to know them in a new way.

I get to have conversations with them as adults.

I get to celebrate their accomplishments.

I get to watch them build lives of their own.

And honestly, there is something incredibly beautiful about that.

Motherhood does not end when children grow up.

It simply changes.

The relationship becomes less about doing everything for them and more about walking alongside them.

Sometimes that means offering advice.

Sometimes that means listening.

Sometimes that means staying quiet and trusting God to work.

Learning when to speak and when to simply pray has been one of the biggest lessons this season has taught me.

Trusting God With the Children We Love

The truth is, we never stop being mothers.

We still worry.

We still pray.

We still care deeply.

That part of us does not disappear.

But God gently reminds us that He loves our children even more than we do.

That truth has brought me so much comfort.

Isaiah 41:10 says:

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God.”

That promise applies to us as mothers, but it also applies to our children.

God is with them when we cannot be.

He sees what we cannot see.

He knows what we do not know.

He walks with them through seasons we cannot walk through ourselves.

And sometimes the greatest act of love we can offer our adult children is trusting them into His hands.

The Beautiful Freedom of This Season

Letting go of adult children does not mean becoming less important.

It means making room for a different kind of relationship.

A relationship built on respect.

A relationship built on trust.

A relationship built on the understanding that love does not require control.

In this season of life, I am learning that my identity is not only found in being needed by my children.

I am a daughter of God first.

And when I remember that, I can love my daughters with open hands instead of anxious ones.

I can celebrate who they are becoming instead of constantly worrying about who they might become.

I can enjoy this season instead of fearing the changes it brings.

Because letting go is not losing them.

It is trusting that God holds them even better than I ever could.

Let’s Keep the Conversation Going

If you are in the season of learning how to let go of adult children while staying connected, I want you to know you are not alone.

This transition can bring joy, sadness, pride, and uncertainty all at the same time.

What has been the hardest part of watching your children grow into adults? What has God been teaching you in this season of motherhood?

I would love for you to share your thoughts in the comments. Your story may be exactly what another mother needs to hear today.

And if this encouraged you, share it with another mom who may need the reminder that releasing our children into God’s hands is not losing them. It is trusting the One who loves them most.

Posted in Faith

How My Prayer Life Changed When Life Slowed Down

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I used to think prayer had to look a certain way to really count. I imagined long, uninterrupted moments with my Bible open, a journal nearby, and a quiet house with no distractions. I thought that was what “real” prayer looked like, and I assumed that was where God met me best.

But life did not always give me those quiet moments.

For many years, prayer happened in the middle of everything else. It happened between responsibilities, during exhausting seasons, while driving to work, while folding laundry, and while trying to hold everything together with a tired heart and a determined spirit.

And somewhere along the way, God taught me something I needed to understand.

He never needed perfect conditions to hear me.

He only needed my heart.

Finding God in Prayer During Busy Seasons of Life

When I was raising my daughters and working full time, my days moved quickly. I went from one responsibility to another, rarely stopping long enough to sit quietly, reflect, or write out my thoughts.

Instead, I prayed in motion.

I prayed while packing lunches.

I prayed while driving.

I prayed while standing at the kitchen counter late at night finishing everything I didn’t get done earlier.

Those prayers were not polished. They did not always sound like the prayers I thought I was supposed to pray. They were often simple, tired, and sometimes just a few whispered words asking God to help me make it through another day.

But they were real.

They were honest.

And they kept me anchored.

Psalm 34:17 says, “The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles.”

Looking back, I realize those quick prayers mattered just as much as the longer ones I imagined I needed to pray. God heard every word, even the ones I barely had the energy to say.

How Prayer Changes in a Slower Season of Life

Now I find myself in a different season.

Life still has responsibilities. I still work full time, and I still manage the everyday things that come with being an adult. But the pace has changed.

My daughters are grown. The house is quieter. The constant urgency of raising children has softened.

And in that quiet, my prayer life has changed too.

It has not become more complicated.

It has become more present.

I no longer pray only because I need God to help me survive the day. I pray because I finally have more space to notice Him in the middle of it.

That has been one of the unexpected gifts of this season.

When life slows down, you begin to see things you missed before.

You notice the quiet moments.

You notice the blessings.

You notice that God was present all along.

Learning to Linger in Prayer

In this season of life, I find myself lingering in prayer instead of rushing through it.

I do not see prayer as something I have to squeeze into the leftover spaces of my day. Instead, I see it as time with Someone who already knows my heart.

Sometimes I pray outside while enjoying the morning air. Sometimes I pray while making my coffee. Sometimes I start talking to God without even realizing it because my thoughts naturally turn toward Him.

Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still, and know that I am God.”

I used to think stillness required a perfectly quiet environment. Now I understand that stillness is less about what is happening around me and more about what is happening within me.

Stillness gives me the opportunity to recognize that God is already here.

How Prayer Changes After Years of Carrying Responsibility

Something shifts in prayer when you have spent years trying to hold everything together.

You begin praying from a place of reflection instead of panic.

You begin noticing the ways God carried you instead of only asking Him to carry you.

You begin seeing prayer not as something you turn to when life falls apart, but as something that walks with you through every season.

That is what this season has taught me.

Prayer is not just for the hard moments.

Prayer is what steadies me in the ordinary ones.

It reminds me that God is not only present when I need something from Him. He is present when I simply want to sit with Him.

A Prayer Life Filled With Gratitude

One of the biggest changes I have noticed is that my prayers have become filled with more gratitude.

Not because life is perfect.

It is not.

But because I can finally look back and see how faithful God has been through every season that brought me here.

I pray with gratitude when I look at my daughters and see the women they have become.

I pray with gratitude when I spend time with my granddaughter and recognize the gift of watching another generation grow.

I pray with gratitude for the quiet moments I once wished for but did not always know how to appreciate.

First Thessalonians 5:16–18 says, “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

I understand that verse differently now.

Prayer is not something I add to my life.

Prayer becomes the way I move through my life.

When Prayer Becomes More About Awareness Than Words

One of the most beautiful things I have learned is that prayer does not always have to sound like a prayer.

Sometimes prayer looks like gratitude.

Sometimes it looks like silence.

Sometimes it looks like taking a deep breath and remembering God is near.

Romans 8:26 reminds us that “the Spirit helps us in our weakness” and intercedes for us when we do not have the words.

That verse means more to me now than it ever has before.

Because I understand that prayer does not depend on saying everything perfectly. God already knows what is in my heart.

Sometimes He hears the words I speak.

Sometimes He understands the words I cannot.

The Gift of a Deeper Faith After 50

As life slows down, I notice something changing inside me.

I listen more.

I rush less.

I notice God in places I used to overlook.

This season has not made my faith louder.

It has made it deeper.

More steady.

More rooted.

More aware.

I used to think I needed more time to pray well.

Now I realize I needed more awareness.

This slower season has given me space to breathe, reflect, and reconnect with God in a way that feels less like striving and more like resting in His presence.

Maybe that is what prayer was always meant to be.

Not something I force into my day.

But something I live inside of every day.

A reminder that God is near.

Always.

Let’s Keep the Conversation Going

Has your prayer life changed as you have entered a new season of life?

I would love to hear how God has met you in the ordinary moments. Share your thoughts in the comments, and if this encouraged you, share it with another woman who may need the reminder that God is always listening.