That image of the “godly woman” haunted me from examples in the Bible of honorable women.

You have suffered your son to come unto Jesus; but fathers, don’t let him die!

Every single child we raise has a completely unique perspective, personality, strength, and weakness.

You are free to love your children without any expectations because you have been loved immeasurably.

A twelve-year-old girl stomped out of the room and slammed her bedroom door. Her two parents sat at the table completely befuddled. They had been trying to lead her to grace, to forgiveness, to a remembering that she was loved.

Moms, your worth is not determined by what present you get on Mother’s Day. Everything that is true about you was said on the cross thousands of years ago.

In divorce God married me to the cross. I didn’t want it; indeed, I hated it. But upon my shoulders God laid it. The ring of nails. The veil of darkness. The kiss of death. When we are stripped of all the good we think we are and have, we come face to face with the evil within. We fight and wrestle and gasp and die and become nothing.

My daughter’s honest, pointed question of “Why?” not only desired an answer; it deserved and demanded the “dreadful beauty” of an honest response.

Every year, when this day rolls around, I turn over the stones of remembrance that litter my mind, to see what lurks beneath.

But what does it mean to love someone or something more than we love Jesus? It means that they who were formed as a gift we transform into a god.

How will they reach this magical moment, this milestone on the journey of life? Perhaps by chasing their dreams, pursuing their passions with a heart wholly devoted to the attainment of whatever goals they set for themselves in life?