When we first built our home, I remember my father-in-law strongly suggesting that we plant some evergreens around our property. It was springtime, so his idea didn’t exactly line up with my more vibrant landscaping dreams of radiant purples, pops of pink, and golden, wispy grasses.

“Why would we do that?” I remember asking him.

His reply: “Because when winter comes and everything else dies, you are going to need something with structure and color.”

I’ve thought a lot about his words of wisdom over the years, but they have felt especially poignant this past year. I can remember way back in February, after Brooklyn’s last surgery, pulling in the driveway and smiling at the evergreens greeting us. It was a dreary day; everything was bare and felt a little bleak. Those trees were a hopeful reminder that life and growth are still possible, even in the harshest seasons.

Of course, it’s only because of my father-in-law’s words that I even noticed those trees. The thing about evergreens is that they are easy to take for granted. They are pretty low maintenance and hardy, so we often neglect caring for them and we usually forget they are even there.

Sure, they have their shining moment at Christmastime, but even then, we feel the need to dress them up and make them appear more glamorous and attractive. Those reliable green branches fade into the background as they showcase the real beauty—the reflective ornaments, the twinkling lights, the elaborate ribbon.

It’s only when Christmas is over, and the decorations are put away, that we realize that evergreens can actually die without roots—or if we don’t give them enough water. Like any tree, their needles fall off, harden, and brown. They don’t actually last forever.

 

It’s interesting how we treat the steadfast things in our lives, isn’t it? We either take them for granted or pour our energy into making them more attractive or immediately satisfying, when the actual blessing is found in their consistency, their stability, their unconditional role in our lives.

How quick we are to mourn the loss of the shiny and brightly colored facets of our lives while completely glossing over the people and things that were always there—the constant reminders of love and everlasting joy right in front of our eyes. *They* provide the structure and signs of life we need when everything around us feels bare and bleak. They are the evergreens.

When all else is stripped away, what remains? What will stay standing?

Your Faith in God. Your family. Your health. Your community.

Tend to them. Water them. Honor them. Pour your energy into strengthening their roots. Thank God for them. Allow them to be your signposts of hope in the winter seasons of your life.

This isn’t just a good idea; it’s how we get through all the hard we are facing now, and all the hard we will likely face in the future. Those evergreens are there for a reason. Let’s not take them for granted.

Here’s the good news: Winter will come, and it will go. Spring will eventually burst forth new life and usher in the warmth and ease of summer. Vibrancy and fresh air will blow through our lives once again. Nothing lasts forever. These are the rhythms we can count on.

I just hope that when summer comes and life feels full and busy and lush again, we don’t forget the evergreens. I pray their roots are strong, and I pray that we remember to give them water. Odds are, they will still be there, standing tall in the warm summer sun, just waiting for someone to notice.

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“The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God endures forever.”
Isaiah 40:8

 

Gratitude is one of those emotions that we know we should offer generously and continuously, but I think it is also the hardest one to conjure up when life throws us hard news. Or exhausted toddlers. Or moody teenagers. Or piles of bills.

Finding the energy and wherewithal to offer authentic praise when we are pushed to our limits is not easy or natural. For me, it is a discipline I’ve had to learn over and over again. Although I wish I could organically produce thanksgiving when life gets tough, the reality is that it is a choice. Do I praise God in this storm, or do I choose pity and play the victim? It sounds like a simple decision, but sometimes our hearts and heads just don’t line up. Sometimes our hearts are hurting too much to celebrate anything.

There have been times when I have no more words, no more prayers, no more positive thoughts. Times when I have turned to God, knowing in my head that He deserves my gratitude and yet my soul feels empty, my bones dry. In those moments, as trivial as it sounds, I often use music as a way to express myself.

Now, I am no singer and have zero musical talent. I mean ZERO. But when it’s all too much and I have nothing left, I often turn on some of my go-to worship music and let it fill the gap between my heart and my head, my doubt and my Faith, my earthly troubles and my Father in Heaven. I open my hands and allow the music to crack open my heart and let the praise pour out all on its own.

This practice has become a spiritual discipline for me. It doesn’t replace my prayer time or devotion time, but making time for praise and worship on hard days, as well as within my everyday life, has been transformative. It gives me permission to not have all the answers or the right words but, instead, allows me to simply be present and let the Holy Spirit move within me. It is my offering when I feel like I have nothing left to offer.

I don’t know why music shifts something within us—why it stirs up emotions and tugs at the very threads holding our hearts together. I just think it is one of those unexplainable concepts that is true for all of us. And for that reason alone, I believe it is a gift from God; a gift that invites us into a sacred space where praise permeates the air, where the veil is thinned just a little, giving us yet another way we can approach our Father with a posture of gratitude.

Maybe you have prayed all the prayers and said all the words today. Maybe your head can’t think one more thought. Maybe it’s all too much. It’s okay. He knows. Open your hands, listen to the music, and present your song before the King. I promise you, it is a sweet, sweet sound to His ears.

 

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The Lord is my strength and my shield;

my heart trusts in him, and I am helped.

Therefore, my heart celebrates,

and I give thanks to him with my song.

Psalm 28:7

*Excited to share on DaySpring’s (in)courage blog today:

 

As I watched them play on the driveway, I longed for an ounce of their energy. Five kids were playing chase. Two were playing basketball. It was a beautiful day, and I could hear their laughter from the other side of the window. I should’ve felt joy at the scene before me, but what I really felt was exhausted, depleted. I was running on fumes and clinging to my third cup of coffee.

For years, I operated like this, drinking lots of caffeine but pouring from an empty cup. Somewhere I bought into the narrative that it was my job as a Christian woman, mom, and wife to pour out and then pour out some more. Serve others. Put them first. Sacrifice and sacrifice some more. These are the ways of Jesus.

It took me many years and many tear-soaked conversations with God to finally realize that His command is to love others, but to love them as myself. While I was following the first half of that sentence, I was skipping over the second half. I was forgetting that I had to care for myself well in order to care for others well.

Soul care and nourishment are not good ideas or luxuries. I have learned they are necessary if I am going to live out the ways of Jesus. Love and grace have to come in before they can spill it out.

What’s interesting, though, is that when we think about nourishing our souls, we usually think the answer is consumption. An empty cup needs to be filled, so we consume. We do Bible studies, read devotions, and listen to podcasts and sermons. All of that is good and necessary, of course, but what those years of depletion and exhaustion taught me was that the real reason I was tired was that I was trying to carry too much. My hands were full and holding too tightly to a world I was trying to control. Clenched hands are not a posture of receiving anything, including God’s grace.

So, for me, soul care starts with surrender. This means literally laying my worries at the foot of the cross. Sometimes, I name them one by one. Sometimes I lay them down in a jumbled mess that can’t be put into words. Either way, the process is never as easy as it should be.

 

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I finally melted down the other night.

Well, I think “shut down” is probably more accurate. The reality of remote learning and all of its responsibilities hit me hard, so I walked into my bedroom at 6:56pm, shut the door, and never came out. My people knew to stay away. Thankyouandgoodnight.

For weeks, I have been telling my kids this:

 

Yes, it’s a platitude, but it’s all I could offer as I attempted to parent them and help them weather this storm of uncertainty. (I mean, “This stinks. Will it ever end?” doesn’t quite get you out of bed in the morning, does it? 😉 )

After the other night, though, I felt like a fraud. The danger of platitudes is that they lack nuance and force you to measure yourself and your experiences against a standard that is usually impossible. I mean, no one can stay positive all.the.time.

I think that’s why so many people fall away or never really grab on to faith. “Trust God” seems too simple when life starts getting really, really hard and complicated. But, for me, that’s the beauty of it. Not in a “bury my head in the sand sort of way,” but in a “solid footing, concrete foundation” sort of way. Faith is the lifeline I need when the storm is raging all around me. It’s not that I don’t see the storm. It’s that I know what to hold on to while I wait for it to pass.

I read something in my devotional the other day, and it really spoke to me. In his book, New Morning Mercies, Paul David Tripp writes:

“Real faith never calls you to swindle yourself into thinking that things are better than they are. Biblical faith is shockingly honest and true. “

In other words, true faith in God does not deny reality. Instead, it faces it dead on, knowing all the while that God is present and near and covering it all.

Truth, if it is truth, is honest about everything—the good and the bad. Jesus is possibly our greatest example of this. He called out sin, asked hard questions, and wasted no time getting to the heart of the issue. He didn’t romanticize faith or what it meant to follow Him. There would be a cost, and it would be hard. No easy buttons or get out-of-jail passes. But that doesn’t mean Jesus wasn’t hopeful. It just means He knew God was just as real as the hardships and sin in the world.

As Christians, I think we often feel pressure to deny we are struggling because it might represent a lack of faith. On the other hand, we can also feel the pressure to not be “too positive” because then we seem naïve or fake.

Both expectations pull us away from our actual experience and rob us of the comfort and peace that God can offer us.

We can acknowledge the hard and still fully acknowledge God.

We can be realistic and we can be hopeful.

We can lean into what we actually feel because that true and honest place is exactly where Jesus wants to meet us.

We can hold the tension of worldly struggles and heavenly victories because we are grounded in a Savior who fully experienced both. We don’t have to choose. Both are true.

So, I’ve decided that we are keeping our current mantra, as trite as it may seem. We will be honest about the hard, but we also will be honest about the positive things we see and experience, too. Jesus will be our rock, but we will be flexible because we know the Holy Spirit is always at work and doing a new thing.

This doesn’t make us frauds on bad days or naïve on good days. It makes us honest humans who hold tight to the reality that God is present and covering it all. We will go through this storm with a faith that guides us forward, gives us hope, and gets us out of bed, day after uncertain day.

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“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

Isaiah 41:10