Hi, my name is “Ridiculous” and sometimes it’s “Crazy,” and I am a P.O.T. (Parent of Teen). My support group is Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and other mothers. My only escape is prayer.
So I prayed, “God, give me children lest I die!” and He gave us children. Then, sometimes I want to die. And we parents do die, right? Every. Single. Day. For-the-rest-of-our-lives.
Yeah, this is where I live and I can’t move out because it’s a lifetime lease. How about you fellow P.O.T.s? (And yes, you POPs (parents of prodigals), MOPs and MOAs and ones in between those too.) Do you ever tell God, “Hey God, this was Your idea! You told me to be fruitful and multiply. So God, You have to help me! Help me help them—in Jesus’ name, amen. Please.”
I don’t drink, I don’t swear, and I don’t believe in happy pills, but there’ve been times I wished I did. I used to swear a lot, especially right before I became a Born Again Christian. But then I gave my heart to Jesus and I had no inkling to swear again—until my firstborn turned fifteen. Then I found myself going, “mmmmm…help me Jesus!” And there are three more after her!
At six years old I was a red-headed, freckled-faced little girl and an orphan once again. I believed I was unlovable. With the death of my foster mom, I was taken from my beloved family who could no longer take care of me.
Welcome to Part 2 of 2 of A Conversation with United Army Chaplain, Special Needs Parent, and Writer Brad Lee. In this video segment Chaplain Lee is joined by his wife, Lori and they share more about life as a military family with six children, one of whom has Downs Syndrome and Autism. Lori gives insights on how we can support military wives and parents of special needs children and more.
There’s only one explanation for Robin—Jesus. And also for her sons Miles and Jake. Robin and Jake are nurses currently caring for Covid19 patients. Miles serves as a teacher in Malaysia. Robin is also an award winning author, speaker, and leader of Higher Ground Outreach ministry for incarcerated women. What an honor to interview them during Teacher and Nurse Appreciation Week and in time for Mother’s Day, and to share their timely and timeless, inspiring and joy filled stories with you in these two videos and the article that follows.
(For fathers, children, and not just for Father’s Day)
The Perfect Father
Relentless and reckless in His love for us
He is an ever present help in all He calls us to
He is a father to the fatherless
He offers hope and healing to the hurting heart, strength to the weak
forgiveness from failure and a new beginning at the end of our road
“Just as a father has compassion on his children, So the LORD has compassion on those who fear Him. For He Himself knows our frame; He is mindful that we are but dust.” Psalms 103:13-14 NASB
Honored to have my article, In Step with My Father published on Southern Ohio Christian Voice. You may click here to read it and while you’re there please check out their other great offerings. 🙂
In Step With My Father
(For fathers, children, and not just for Father’s Day)
I remember Daddy holding my hand as we entered the gates to the botanical gardens, Wrigley’s gum, Elephant Ear pastries, Matchbox cars, him carrying me when I was hurt, and scraping every speck of black pepper off my food. And bumper cars. I hated them, but I never told him because I liked to hear him laugh—and we were together.
Daddy was pale and shaky after riding the corkscrew roller coaster. We made kites with bamboo and tissue paper. They always crashed, but that was okay. He drove way too fast on the windy island mountain roads in his little ultramarine Triumph Spitfire… Cont. Here: http://sohiochristianvoice.com/in-step-with-my-father
Please forgive me for my quietness here. I have much to share and am currently working on a few articles as well as a couple new exciting writing projects. I’m looking forward to catching up with you in a few days. Thank you for joining me on this writing journey. and for your prayers.
It is my pleasure to share Pearl Allard’s guest post with you today.
I had just settled on the couch, grateful to have crossed the day’s finish line with two kids intact and in bed. I eagerly reached for a book I’d been longing to read, when my six-year-old padded out of her room—one bare foot and one slipper-socked foot. I bristled, wondering with the psalmist, how long, O Lord?
Dear daughter held up the partner slipper sock in one hand and a gray pom-pom in the other. The slipperhad (past tense) a pair of dangly gray pom-poms attached at the top which I was preparing to mentally curse. She wanted me to fix it.
Yeah sure, kid. No problem. I’m on it. And by the way, you’re supposed to be in bed!I choked back the destructive spew and accepted the extended slipper sock and offending gray pom-pom. I examined them (come on, you know that deserved a gold star right there), but I informed her it wasn’t getting fixed that night, if it was even fixable. She looked crestfallen.
I peered at the small mass of gray fibers coming loose in my hand. I’d wait until she was in bed and then throw away this whole fraying mess.
“Do you think you can fix it?” Her little voice held such angst.
It was a gray pom-pom for crying out loud, not a broken limb, or a break-up with a boyfriend, or a life-or-death matter, not even a blip on the radar of important…to me.
I looked up into her earnest expression watching me. Hoping. Trusting.
I sighed. When she’s grown, will she remember me shoving aside what she valued? Or will she remember me caring about even the outlandish details of her life? I sighed, again.
“Couldn’t you sew it back on?” I sensed her trying to lighten the workload, offering the most helpful suggestion she knew.
It was just a mess on my lap, and it was all kinds of unimportant and…it mattered. I sighed for the third time.
“Yes, I can probably sew it on,” I admitted. That seemed to satisfy her since she smiled and, with both feet now in one slipper sock, hopped her way back to bed. Crazy girl. This mothering thing…yeah.
I set the book aside, hauled my rear off the couch, and rummaged through craft supplies, shaking my head. Was I actually comparing shades of gray thread?
Back on the couch, I stitched the fraying mess – and realized I was actually stitching up something far more significant. Isthis what real love does?Stitches things, people, back together? Reconnects the disconnected? Takes the time to do crazy for the sake of demonstrating love? I marveled at the way the eye of a needle opened my eyes.
I paused and looked up. Hanging over our fireplace were three crosses – just small hot-glued branches – beneath small heart lights I’d strung around the mantel. The cross, a symbol of the most crazy love ever. And small hearts connected together because of it. Radiating light. In that moment I tasted a richer flavor of God’s love for me. Why does He love me? Me with a wandering heart and reluctance to share what’s been lavished on me. Crazy-amazing love.
How fitting so near Valentine’s Day.
I tied off the knot and surveyed the repair. It didn’t seem nearly so costly a sacrifice anymore. Those few interrupted minutes a disguised opportunity to participate in something much larger than irritating gray pom-poms. Any investment of love, no matter how small, is really part of something big; because God IS love. I’m slow to see, slow to look up. But thank God, I didn’t completely botch this. (Lord knows how many other times I have!)
May this Valentine’s Day bring a fresh awareness of how much God loves you with a crazy-amazing love. Romans 5 is an amazing chapter to reflect on, if you get the chance today. But the verse below from John is a good summary.
Yes, God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him would not be lost but have eternal life. John 3:16 ERV
Pearl and I met two years ago as members of The Jerry JenkinsWriters Guild and joined the same writing group, currently comprised of nine women from around the world with a passion for Jesus and to honor Him with our writing. Pearl is a precious sister in the Lord, a down to earth, gifted and anointed writer and speaker, a prayer warrior with a heart to glorify God and encourage others. She has written for (in)courage, Keys for Kids, and Breathe Christian Writers Conference.
Pearl Allard
Pearl is an imperfect Son-follower learning to enjoy grace. Sunflowers are her spiritual metaphor, because they track the sun’s movement as Christians seek to follow God’s son, Jesus. She is happily-mostly-aftered, work-at-home mama to two, and lives in Michigan. She writes at LookUpSometimes.com.
Progress is slow as I recover from an inflamed nerve which makes it difficult to work on a computer. Eleven of twelve articles are posted for my current series of interviews with pastors and pastor’s wives. I will post the final article in the series, (which features missionaries), as soon as I am able. This link will also bring you to my interviews with pastors and pastor’s wives from prior years.
Here in the USA, February is Black History Month. If you haven’t already, I’d like to invite you toclick here and read my post, Why are We Shouting? (Remembering MLK’s Message). From there you can link to read One Blood, A Civil Rights Story, Jean Colby, my mother-in-law and Sara Clay, my sister-in-law recount their experiences as Civil Rights activists.
Our culture tends to demean men and undermine the important role of fathers, then wonders at the staggering numbers of fatherless and troubled children. Dads who stick it out and stand up for their families play a vital role in their family and their positive impact reverberates throughout society. Likewise, those men who step up to fill someone else’s shoes.
My heart aches for those whose father is not a part of their life and those who lack a healthy relationship with them. My parents separated when I was a baby, so my grandparents raised me until I was nine years old, then my dad. Longing and loneliness gripped me as I watched friends make cards for Mother’s Day while mine was overseas, and I had minimum contact with her. Some people experience an emptiness because their parent has died or is uninvolved in their life. Others suffer due to a parent who is physically present but emotionally absent. For those, life and Father’s Day can be difficult.
“And I look around at all these wives and mamas who got. It. Down. Seriously, I’m surrounded by women who don’t just impress me. They terrify me with their apparent perfection,” said my friend, Rebekah.
“Beauty is being real—and letting Jesus do His thing. He’s the master builder, we’re His work in progress. Building sites and renovations and restorations are noisy and messy.
Sometimes as a parent your heart swells with joy, but at other times you labor in love with tears and a busted heart over your children. For those in a hard season, I thought I’d share some scriptures and re-post my poem, For the Prodigal’s Mom, in hopes of encouraging you. Whether your child is faring well, struggles or has strayed, whether you just have the occasional hard day or more tough days than not—your work does not go unnoticed. God sees you, He feels your heart. He wants to come alongside and help and strengthen us. Jesus weeps with us and we can take joy in the shelter of Him. He cares for our children. Remember, He sets out in search of the one lost lamb.
We don’t have to walk this road or wage this war in our own strength. Jesus is the difference maker in our lack as we strive to find your footing and guide your children on the right path. We can petition Heaven and storm Hell with our prayers and partner with our Maker, the Good Father, for the needs of our children. God provides and equips for every task He calls us to.
And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not. Galatians 6:9 KJV
For the Prodigal’s Mom
Mama,
Don’t you know Jesus loves your children
Even more than you?
Pound the gates of Heaven, Mama
Pray without ceasing
Know the God of Heaven, inclines to your cry
He shares your passion for restoration of the prodigal child
So shall Myword be that goes forth from My mouth; It shall notreturn to Mevoid, But it shall accomplish what I please, And it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it. Isaiah 55:11 (NKJV)
Daddy held my hand as we entered the arched iron gates to the botanical gardens. Memories of his buying me Wrigley’s gum, elephant ear pastries, and Matchbox cars still bring a smile. He carried me when I was injured and scraped every speck of black pepper off my food. And bumper cars. I hated them, but I never told him because I liked to hear him laugh—and we were together.
I lived with Grandma in the countryside on the north coat of Jamaica, and Daddy lived on the south coast in the city, so I treasured his visits. He gave me a toypiano, like Schroeder’s in the “Peanuts” comic strip. I played it as loudly as I could because I believed it would make him visit us sooner. I loved our adventures. Sometimes he brought gifts.
One morning, Daddy showed up for a visit and handed me a big box. Grandma gave him a warning look as he hadn’t sought her pre-approval on this one—a tie-dye set. Perhaps he thought his gift was just fine for a six-year-old and Grandma’s nice tile floors.
“You gave her the tie dye set. You get her cleaned up!” Grandma said and pushed us outside. A bucket of soapy water, a scrub brush, and our stifled laughter under the mango tree. Pinned to the clothesline, my brightly colored creation flapped happily in the breeze. I loved that hat.
We made kites with bamboo and tissue paper. They always crashed, but that was okay. He drove too fast on the windy island mountain roads in his little ultramarine Triumph Spitfire. At the amusement park, Daddy emerged pale and shaky after riding the corkscrew roller coaster, but waited for me while I went again. He got upset when I fared better with a drop line than he did with his expensive fishing rod.
When I was a young teen, he took me to Disney World. His camera bag embarrassed me, as it looked like a purse, and I feared someone might recognize us. So I pretended I didn’t know him and walked several feet ahead, or behind.
Daddy wouldn’t let me accept the invitation to run off for the day with the boy I met at the Disney resort. I cried when Daddy scared him away. All the boys were afraid of my daddy. I didn’t yet appreciate his protectiveness.
Daddy had his problems. At times, he missed the mark—and it was painful. But he loved his children and grandchildren. Sometimes God uses imperfect people to guide our lives if we let Him. We only have a finite amount of time to know, understand, and reconcile with each other, to extend forgiveness and grace like God does to us. I’m grateful for our time. Life is too short, and eternity too near to be at odds with those God calls us to love.
Then one day he was gone. Just. Like. That. Death gave no warning. I didn’t know that was our last I love you. I wasn’t ready. But God is the one who numbers our days; He said it was time.
Though he’s gone, his voice still echoes in my mind. “Daugh-tah, come here. Child of mine, I love you so much, yuh see,” my father would say in his accent.
My Daddy made mistakes; he wasn’t a perfect father. None of them are. Except for one. He calls me daughter too.
The Perfect Father
Relentless and reckless in His love for us,
He seeks and rescues us from our wanderings.
God is ever-present.
He is holy.
He is our help in all He calls us to,
A father to the fatherless.
He offers hope and healing to the hurting heart,
Strength to the weak,
Forgiveness from failure,
A new beginning at the end of our road.
In my destitution,
He clothed me in His righteousness.
Adopted and adored,
Never alone.
I come into His presence,
Call Him Abba, Father.
“But to all who believed him and accepted him, he gave the right to become children of God.” (John 1:12 NLT)
“You received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, ‘Abba, Father.’” (Romans 8:15 NLT)
*This piece, In Step with My Father, was originally posted on 6/10/2016. Revisions and additions made in 2017 and 6/2025.
~~~*~~~
God is the only perfect father. He is afather to the fatherless. Jesus went to great lengths to meet us where we are. He left his throne in Heaven, donned human flesh, and died to save us from our sin, and reconcile us to Himself, to God. He loves us in spite of ourselves. But we have to accept Him.
A father of the fatherless, a defender of widows, Is God in His holy habitation. Psalms 68:5
For you are all children of God through faith in Christ Jesus. Galatians 3:26 NLT
Father, daughter, son, is there a breach that needs mending? Will you start the journey to restoration? Just take one small step. May I suggest the first one be to pray; and the second,forgive? Maybe you won’t get where you’d like to on this side of eternity. Maybe you are only able to take those first two steps. That’s okay. Just start, and let God be God, the mender of hearts. Extend grace like God does for us, even though we don’t deserve it.
“But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8 NKJV
“If you forgive those who sin against you, your heavenly Father will forgive you. But if you refuse to forgive others, your Father will not forgive your sins.” Matthew 6:14-15 NLT
Then Peter came to him and asked, “Lord, how often should I forgive someone who sins against me? Seven times?” “No, not seven times,” Jesus replied, “but seventy times seven!” Matthew 18:21-22 NLT
Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, and evil speaking be put away from you, with all malice. And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you. Ephesians 4:31-32 NKJV
SONG: The Blessing – Jim Trick
Dads- your children, your wives, your country needs you. Will you step up to the plate?
“Here I am Father. Forgive me. Help me to forgive those who hurt me. Help me to step in Your footprints, and walk a little closer with You Jesus.”
SONG: Lead Me – Sanctus Real
Yeah, you are probably going to mess up sometimes, stumble and fall in the process. But God will pick you up. He’s like that.
SONG: Good, Good Father – Chris Tomlin
LINK TO: The Father Effect, Movie – 3 Minute Trailer (*Warning: Contains some sensitive material)
John Finch grew up the youngest of 3 boys in a suburb of Dallas where he lost his father to suicide at age 11. As a young man, John did anything he could to avoid confronting the wounds he suffered as a result of being fatherless. His craving for affirmation from a father who was not there to provide it, led him to… http://thefathereffect.com/about
Focus on the Family is a global Christian ministry dedicated to helping families thrive. We provide help and resources for couples to build healthy marriages that reflect God's design, and for parents to raise their children according to morals and values grounded in biblical principles.
To speak with a family help specialist, request resources, make a donation over the phone, inquire about general information, or to report a problem, contact us at the number below.
“And I look around at all these wives and mamas who got. It. Down. Seriously, I’m surrounded by women who don’t just impress me. They terrify me with their apparent perfection,” said my friend, Rebekah.
Tattoo It On Your Heart 