Archives for May 2016

She Blazed a Trail {And We Should Too}

I wonder how she heard the news.

You are an equal in the eyes of the law.

She was educated at an academy  – the best a girl could hope for.  She didn’t work – what woman did? And she fell in love with Henry, a fighter for freedom.  On their honeymoon, she and Henry travelled to an antislavery convention in London.  And she made a new friend, Lucretia.

Her life changed because of Henry and Lucretia. She no longer thought afternoon tea was the highlight of the day.  The oppressed needed a voice.  She gave birth seven times, but grew restless with being at home.  She wanted to be a voice for those who had no voice in a time when that was anything but popular or cool.

So, she and Lucretia joined forces and organized a convention for women –  a place for them to gather and discuss rights and oppression. And while Lucretia – and her new friend, Susan – had many issues on their mind, one issue was particularly dear to her heart:  voting.

She thought women should be allowed to vote.

Meanwhile, the war raged as North fought South; a war often dividing reformers.

But, she and her friends refused to give up, holding meeting after meeting. Writing resolution after resolution – amendment after amendment.  Forming group after group. Persevering in the face of opposition and criticism from every side.

she blazed a trail

And then…1869. She and her friends, Lucretia and Susan, founded the National Woman Suffrage Association.  Eventually, this group would secure the 19th Amendment  to the Constitution of the United States of America.  

Women could vote.

I don’t agree with everything Elizabeth did.  She disliked organized religion as she struggled to reconcile equality with the church’s mandates and oppression.

But, still. Today, I can vote.

Because women like Elizabeth Cady Stanton came before me.

And someday, I pray women and girls say….I can __________ because of the amazing women who came before me back in 2016.  The women who loved Jesus in a way that we had never known or seen.  The women who opened arms to us when everyone else looked at us with disdain.

I pray that’s who we are, friends. Woman who fight for other women. For girls. For the oppressed and marginalized and lonely.  Women who champion, applaud, and cheerlead other women.

What we do matters. Our voting. Our mothering. Our teaching. Our loving. Our serving. Our sharing. All of it. May we live everyday knowing this day matters.


On Election Day in 1920, millions of American women exercised their right to vote for the first time. It took activists and reformers nearly 100 years to win that right, and the campaign was not easy…But on August 26, 1920, the 19th Amendment to the Constitution was finally ratified, enfranchising all American women and declaring for the first time that they, like men, deserve all the rights and responsibilities of citizenship. (

And today, we voted too!

(My kiddos think they’re hilarious as you can tell;)


For the Single Mom {on Mom’s Day}

I see you. I see you cooking and cleaning.  Carpooling and crafting.  You’re wiping tears and cleaning knees. The need never seems to end.  A break isn’t coming.

And it’s not like you need a break – exactly. You love your kiddos. You’d spend every waking minute with them if you could. They’re great kids.

But, sometimes, it’s nice to have help. It’s nice for someone to acknowledge that you’re doing this alone. Sure, friends help. Maybe they even go with Dad once a week or every other weekend. And maybe there is no dad at all { I really am sorry.}

to the single mom

Still, the burden of providing and parenting rests squarely on your shoulders.  They come to you with all the questions...can I date? Does this dress look nice? Is my hair ugly? Am I overweight? Can I run track?

They come to you with the tears. I wasn’t chosen this time, Mom. I didn’t make the cut. She was making fun of me today. Why are there starving kids in the world? Where is God in this?  

They come to you for homework help. For car rides. For decision making. For affirmation. For confirmation. For love. For understanding. For all of it.

Sometimes you want to say…I don’t know, little one. I don’t know what’s best. Decisions are best made in tandem when two different people can bring strengths and weaknesses to create one solid team.

Could you text dad every time? Maybe. But it’s not really feasible. You can’t ask your friend or mom every time either. You’re the one. You’re the one who answers the questions, wipes the tears, encourages the hearts, helps with the homework.

And that’s ok – you “took them to raise.” But, sometimes, you’d just like for someone to say…I see you. I see you getting up early, working hard, sacrificing much. I see how exhausting this life can be. I know you love them deeply, but this work is hard.  I believe you want the very best for them.  I understand that this was not the plan. 

Today, friend, I want to tell you: I see you.  I feel you in my heart.

This single mom road is challenging. But, it’s ever so rewarding.

And, best of all, it teaches you that you are not alone. In the earliest of mornings when the silent house creaks and bedroom fan whirls. He is there. During the late nights when you toss and turn and the weight of “I am responsible for them” hits. He is there.

He is with you. He is with them. He is a God of redemption and love. This may not have been his plan, but He is in control.  You are not a statistic or a failure. There is no label that fits you except daughter of the King.

I pray today that you walk in that, friend.

I had no plans to write today. Most of what I feel about Mom’s Day is in this post. But, God said…there’s a single mom out there, Sarah. And she needs encouragement. So, to the one for whom God nudged me…Happy Mother’s Day. You are seen and you are loved.

Your work matters.  Your children matter. YOU matter.

Your kids will never forget this season. They may not know or understand right now, but someday, they’ll know: My mom was a superstar! My mom is a daughter of the Most High God, and I am honored to call her Mine.