Tag: self-care

Posted in Moments and Musings

Fresh Mercy, Full Hearts

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

One of my favorite Christmas movies is The Bishop’s Wife. There’s a scene—my mom’s favorite—where Cary Grant’s character, Dudley, counsels Professor Wutheridge (played by Monty Woolley). They’re sharing a bottle of wine, and every time Wutheridge goes to refill their glasses, he finds Dudley’s already full. In the background, we see Dudley discreetly lift his finger, using his angel abilities to refill not only the glasses but the bottle too.

I thought about that scene this morning during my walk with Percy. I was saying my usual “good mornings” to God. (I don’t have super wordy prayers anymore unless I feel led by the Spirit. Mostly, I just talk to Him throughout the day—simple, honest, real.) I was appreciating the beauty of a brand new morning when suddenly a quote from Anne of Green Gables drifted into my mind:

“Tomorrow is fresh, with no mistakes in it.”
—Lucy Maud Montgomery

And right there, on that quiet walk, I felt a rush of relief and peace. If you’re a Failed Perfectionist like I am, you know exactly why that line hits so deeply. There’s something comforting about knowing you get a whole new set of chances each day. Most nights, perfectionists fall asleep trying to outrun the list of everything we didn’t get right. So waking up to a clean slate feels like someone lovingly wiped down the whiteboard of our minds.

Then another reminder came, this time from Scripture—Lamentations 3:22–23 (ESV):

“The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.”

God’s mercy is new every morning. Fresh. Abundant. Undeserved. Prepared ahead of time. Never failing.

For someone like me—someone who is chronically hard on herself—that truth needed to sit with me for a while. And as it did, the Holy Spirit brought that scene from The Bishop’s Wife back to mind. Just like Dudley kept refilling the professor’s glass over and over, God continually replenishes us with mercy, grace, favor, and love. Every time we draw from His supply, He instantly refills. And unlike Dudley, He doesn’t even wait for morning to do it.

I know this might sound simple to some, but God knows how He made me. He knows my process-driven brain. He knows I’m a visual learner. He knows if I don’t understand something fully, I’ll get frustrated—and then I’ll quit. So He gives me examples I can see, feel, and picture. He meets me exactly where I am.

He knows us perfectionists so well.

So as you head into your weekend—and as you wake up tomorrow morning—remember this: there is brand new, shiny, untouched mercy waiting for you. More than enough mercy. It never runs out. It never grows stale. You will never reach the bottom of the glass or the bottle.

Because He is a God of more than enough.

Photo by Olga Kovalski on Unsplash
Posted in Moments and Musings

The Power of Lifting Hands in the Darkest Moments

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

“So I will bless you as long as I live; in your name I will lift up my hands.”
 Psalm 63:4 (ESV)

Years ago, I walked through one of the darkest seasons of my life. I was battling depression and anxiety with no professional support. My marriage was falling apart. I felt like I was trapped in a deep well—so deep that even God seemed unable to reach me. I had two toddlers running around, needing me every minute, and I felt like life was crumbling faster than I could hold it together.

I remember one night especially clearly. After yet another argument with my husband (now ex-husband), I tucked my babies into bed, walked to the couch, and broke down. I cried because I didn’t see a way out. I wanted to be strong for my girls. I wanted to be a better wife. But I had no idea how to climb out of the hole I was in. God felt so far away, and I felt like a failure.

Then, out of nowhere, a familiar Scripture came to my heart:

“Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.”
 1 Thessalonians 5:16–18

Praise and worship had always been my favorite part of church. I’ve always loved to sing, and at the time, I was on the praise and worship team at my local church. I knew the power of praise. I knew what it meant to lift my hands. But in my depression, I couldn’t even find the strength for that.

I remember admitting to God, “I’m not sure I can even lift my hands anymore. I don’t even know why I should.”

And in that still, gentle way God speaks to our hearts, I heard Him ask,
“When your babies lift their hands to you, what does that mean?”

I answered, “It means they want me. They want me to pick them up and hold them.”

Then He said, “And what happens when you hold them?”

I replied, “They’re comforted. They feel loved. They feel safe in my arms.”

And God whispered,
“Then lift your hands to Me, daughter. Let Me lift you up and hold you. I will comfort you, love you, and make you secure in Me.”

From that day on, lifting my hands in worship became easy—not because life got easier, but because I understood. I remembered how it felt to lift my hands that night and be lifted by Jesus in return. In those moments, depression and anxiety melted away while I rested in the arms of my Heavenly Father.

Was life perfect afterward? No. The abuse in my marriage became adultery, which eventually led to divorce. My girls and I had to learn a whole new way of life. But none of that overshadowed what God had shown me:
Whenever the waves felt too strong, all I had to do was lift my hands—and He would lift me higher.

Today, my daughters are grown. They haven’t received this revelation yet, and they’re still shy in worship. But I’m not worried. I know their own conversation with God is coming. One day they will lift their hands, and when they do, God will hold them, comfort them, provide for them, and reveal Himself not just as their Heavenly Father—but as their Daddy.

Maybe you’re like I was—sitting in your own well of darkness or heaviness. Maybe you need to be lifted up, too. If so, can I pray for you?

A Prayer for the One Who Needs to Be Lifted

Heavenly Father, we love You so much. Thank You for Your Word that gives us everything we need in every season. Your Word tells us to praise You in all circumstances. And You know, Lord, that sometimes that’s hard. Sometimes we don’t have the strength. Sometimes our hands feel too heavy to lift.

But You are a Father who desires our freedom. You want us to know You not only as Abba but as Daddy. So today, by faith, we lift our hands to You. And as we lift our hands, we ask You to lift us up. Hold us close. Wrap us in Your arms. Let us feel comfort, security, and love. Thank You for pulling us out of the pit and placing our feet on solid ground.

We thank You and praise You for all this, in Jesus’ name.
 Amen.

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash
Posted in Moments and Musings

Holy Hydration! How I Finally Tamed My Menopause Skin

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

Menopause skin is not a skin issue. It’s a hostile takeover. It’s a full-blown coup d’état on your face. One minute, you’re coasting through life with a “fine” complexion, the next, you’re staring into the mirror like, “Who is this dry, desert-dwelling creature staring back at me?”

I’ve been lucky all my life. Dad’s skin? Perfect. Mom’s skin? Flawless. Me? I coasted through life thinking, “Skincare? That’s for teenagers, billionaires, and people who enjoy scented creams.” I never had a routine. Never cared. Never even really thought about it. My face survived on sheer luck, occasional soap, and perhaps some very passive-good genes.

Well…except for that one glorious year when I fancied myself a “mature lady makeup influencer.” That lasted roughly 72 hours—the exact amount of time it takes to realize you can’t survive on a ramen noodle budget and maintain a perfect beauty blog aesthetic. After that, I returned to my blissful ignorance, smugly patting my dry-but-“fine” cheeks.

Then menopause arrived like a villain in a bad soap opera: “SURPRISE! Your skin now belongs to me!”

Driving home from Tennessee recently, the sun hit my face and I thought, “Oily!” My sister was driving—thank God—or insurance claims for distracted face-petting would have been complicated. But when I actually touched my skin… nope. Sahara. Dry. Bone-dry. Cracked. My face was begging for mercy, and I had nothing to give it except guilt and vague promises to try harder.

My sister, ever the practical one, suggested, “Try my moisturizer.”

I nearly collapsed. Moisturizer. On me. The greasy, sticky, slip-and-slide horror I’ve avoided for decades. Hands? Nope. Face? Absolutely not. I’ve spent a lifetime avoiding it like I avoided gym class and small talk with neighbors. But my skin was sobbing, so I caved.

And then…magic. Heaven opened. Angels sang. Birds started performing synchronized flight patterns outside my window. My skin? Baby smooth. Baby. Smooth. I could barely believe it. For decades, I mistook Sahara-level dryness for “soft and supple.” Turns out, those are very different things.

At this point, I realized I might—just might—need a skincare routine. I know. Shocking. I, the person who once considered face soap a luxury, now have a full-blown regimen.

Here’s my current masterpiece of skin maintenance:

Morning Routine:

  • Clean & Clear Morning Burst Oil-Free Gentle Face Wash (because I refuse to waste money—my past self may have been lazy, but my future self is fiscally responsible)
  • Holy Hydration! Nourishing Night Cream (yes, night cream in the morning. No, I don’t care. Yes, it works. Don’t judge.)

Night Routine:

  • Clean & Clear Night Relaxing Oil-Free Face Wash (finishing what I already bought, because throwing away money is a sin I cannot commit)
  • Holy Hydration! Toner
  • Holy Hydration! Triple Bounce Serum*
  • Holy Hydration! Eye Cream
  • Holy Hydration! Night Cream

The results? I’m absolutely shocked. My face feels lighter, smoother, softer, and—brace yourself—supple. Yes. SUPPLE. At 57, I didn’t think “supple” was a possibility. Yet here we are. My face is supple. I check it constantly. Twice. Sometimes three times a day, just to make sure it’s real.

I never thought I’d care about my skin this much. I used to think “skincare” was a conspiracy created by rich people to sell jars of cream and small towels you don’t need. Now? I know better. I know that sometimes, miracles come in vegan, cruelty-free, non-greasy jars, and sometimes, you just have to accept that your face has officially declared war on you and you’re not winning without backup.

Here’s a fun bonus: menopause isn’t just about dry skin. Oh no. It’s a full-body audition for “what can go wrong at the exact same time?” Hot flashes. Mood swings. Random joint pain. And, of course, the Sahara Desert that used to be your cheeks. I now understand why women stockpile moisturizers like canned food during a snowstorm. Survival is key.

So, if you’re dry, cracked, desperate to touch your own face without grimacing, or someone who, like me, thought moisturizer was the enemy, take it from someone who’s been there: e.l.f Cosmetics Holy Hydration! line is your new best friend. It’s vegan, cruelty-free, and apparently capable of performing miracles on faces that have officially declared war on their owners.

Final thought: if you see me glowing like a hydrated raisin at the grocery store, just know—it’s not Photoshop. It’s Holy Hydration. And maybe a little joy that I can finally touch my face without grimacing, cackling at the absurdity of menopause, and silently thanking my sister for saving my cheeks from a lifetime of Sahara dryness.

*I first tried their Bright Icon Vitamin C + E + Ferulic Serum. Smelled like…pork. Yes. PORK. Jimmy Dean sausage, specifically. Sure, I like breakfast, but I do not want to smell like breakfast meat at bedtime. Not even a little. I mean, it seriously confused my dog who loves bacon! So, I went with the Triple Bounce Serum option keeping with the Holy Hydration line.

Disclaimer: I’m not making any money from this—I just really, really like this product. This is simply my honest experience and recommendation from one dry-faced woman to anyone else trying to survive menopause without looking like a raisin.