The people who know me best know if I could diagnose myself with an allergy, I would be deathly allergic to change. I am not the person running towards adventure; I am the person who can exhaust a list of reasons to stay right where I am. I’m slow to process change and oftentimes don’t know how to even get started sifting through the feelings of uncertainty I face.

I had been anxious for months sensing change was on the horizon for my family in 2024. No matter how persuasive my arguments and how extensive my lists of reasons got, I couldn’t outrun the pervasive sense that change would be inevitable. But as the New Year came, spiritual discipline started to temper my posture towards an unknown future. My Bible reading, which I’ve spent the past few years in intentional, daily practice has become even more rich with awe and wonder in the last few weeks. As I have been practicing faithfulness to time in his word, I have sensed his faithfulness in real and evident ways.

The first is a desire stronger than I have ever known to stay in step with the Holy Spirit. As a hurried person, I am learning that Jesus is unhurried. He’s been so kind to show me things I would’ve missed had I been setting my own pace. The second is through worship. Last year, Firm Foundation by Cody Carnes became like manna to me. I loved the song because my life felt nothing like the lyrics and I was desperate for what the words offered: joy in chaos. A peace that makes no sense. Steadfastness. What I didn’t know was that my striving was what was in the way of God’s goodness. As 2023 started to slow, a birthday gift from Hunter came just in time.

On Christmas Day, I turned 31. I also received an ancestry.com DNA kit, a perfect surprise from Hunter. Through the website that day, I found my grandmother’s high school yearbook, a picture of my grandfather in FFA, and the four World War II draft cards of my great-grandfathers. I never was able to meet any of them, but seeing their signatures inked in black cursive caught my breath. My dad’s mom, my Grandma Janie was adopted by her aunt and uncle: William and Marion Brewster. I knew Marion as Great-Grandma B until I was twelve. I also knew Great-Grandpa B was a descendant from the Mayflower.

With ancestry.com access, I was able to trace the details of the lineage back to my 9th great-grandfather: also named William Brewster. A passenger on the Mayflower. A mentor to William Bradford. The first elder in the first church established in Plymouth.

And it dawned on me, that from that family, my grandma would be born as Harriet; adopted by her aunt and uncle. Given a new name, Jane. She would marry a preacher with a shepherd’s heart, my grandfather, Gary Nelsen. Their firstborn son, my father, Jeff Nelsen, would have a calling on his life to lead and pastor people to life and hope in Jesus, too. Generations of God’s redemptive hand on my family. Generations given a purpose and a passion for Jesus. In every season, God, as a faithful Father provided for their needs.

And then I heard words in Firm Foundation I had never connected with this personal family history: “He’s faithful through generations. So why would he fail now? He won’t.”

He won’t. Blessed assurance.

If I let him, he’ll grow my spiritual muscles out of his strength. Just as he did for my father, and my father’s father and mother, and so on.

So as I anticipate the future with my family, as I walk in step with the Holy Spirit, praying he’ll help me be unhurried, I’m reminded and I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for his faithfulness to my past and to my present. If he can lead my 9th great-grandfather from a ship, wrecked with illness and hardship, to lead the first known church in a new world, he can lead me to a life worth His calling. I don’t know what that is, but I know he’ll equip me. Because he’s faithful through generations.

Adventure with Jesus awaits. Thank you, Lord, that I can have faith in your future.

Take care & take heart,

Late last year, I declared that 2024 was going to be my year of fun. 2023 was the epitome of challenging and I had the hardest time letting go of deep feelings of insignificance and resentment toward the circumstances that magnified them. The most frustrating part was wanting to move forward but easily recalling the unmet expectations of the past year that turned into skepticism of a positive future. Coming up short, I decided if I just tried to make life more fun, I’d win at it.

Well. I made it to January 11th before sensing my own defeat. Life is just as challenging as it was twelve days ago when I was still living in last year. And I’m not having very much fun, as much as I’m trying to not take myself too seriously. Loneliness is likely the biggest escalator of my best intentions. I’m an extrovert who works from home, dependent on virtual reality for connection, most days. I’m starting to believe that cat ladies are the people who understand the key to human survival after all.

2024’s Year of Fun pledge was simply a longing for my ideal preferences to continuously come true. Reality did not let me get very far. But what’s saved me on days when I’m doubting or wondering, or feel myself over-striving to feel enough is one thing: being present with Jesus. And he’s showing me old and new ways I can do that. Dallas Willard said, “Prayer is Jesus walking right up to you and listening.” When I heard that this week, it shifted my posture from praying throughout the day to being in constant conversation with God. It’s the miracle of all miracles that I’m both alone during working hours, and yet always within reach of eternal connection.

It’s given me the freedom to wonder about so many things, to cast daily frustrations onto Him, and to practice asking for what I need and then listening in comfortable silence for it. And I hear him whisper just one thing: “This is it.”

This is it. This is my life. And my reaction to that reality can either be disappointment or intentional presence within it. I get one shot with my kids. With my marriage. With my opportunities. With my loneliness. Another way my dad phrased it to me recently was, “Don’t waste your winter.” And that’s been freeing to get on the other side of wondering what’s missing. Nothing is. Not when I’m drawn into the present.

What continues to keep me present is gratitude, as it always does. Out of the overflow of practicing the presence of God has come small, quiet moments. Flickers of his blessings, really, where He’s allowed me to have a bird’s eye view of my life for just a second. Hearing my sons imaginatively playing in their room. Soaking in the sound of their tiny voices that will one day deepen and change. Seeing the profile of my husband as he silently empties the dishwasher without prompting. The garage door opening as I release the button, a reminder that God gifted me a place to land.

When I find myself in the space of what could or should be, the Holy Spirit assures me in tiny flashes of remembrance that this is it.

And I become overwhelmed with joy and holy contentment, that it is.

Take care & take heart,