Tag: family

Special Feature

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I am honored and excited to share I have a post featured on Her View from Home today. You can read it here.

A little disclaimer . . .

We all process grief in different ways, and writing has been one of the ways I have worked through my feelings this year- along with buying multiple holiday inflatables and planting a backyard full of vegetables. No joke, Alex was worried he’d get back from a recent trip and find I had tilled the entire back yard and planted corn. What can I say, grief can make us do crazy things!

But seriously, writing has been therapeutic for me, and even though this isn’t the most light-hearted of posts, I do hope it serves as a good reminder to soak up the joy of the small things.

After all, sometimes the seemingly ordinary events end up being the most extraordinary.

Love you, friends!

Katherine

Life After Easter

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Easter was hard for me this year.

For starters, it was the first time in 44 years I didn’t get an Easter basket. I know, I know, poor me. But seriously, when you all of a sudden end a tradition after that many years, it’s quite a jolt to the system.

Nah, it wasn’t that I missed the basket full of Russell Stover cream eggs, it was more that I missed the person who always gave me the basket—my mom.

My mom loved Easter. Growing up, we had decorative eggs all over the place, along with bunny figurines and tulips in vases that looked like lettuce. My mom especially loved Easter egg hunts. Mom hosted my 2nd grade class Easter party, and she hid so many eggs, we were still finding them in July.

As I got older, Mom started hiding eggs with money in them, and as she got older, she wrote down each egg’s location in case I didn’t find one and she had to go back and retrieve her cash.

And then there were the Easter egg hunts for the neighbors. These had a special twist, with the surprises in the eggs being a little less Cadbury mini egg and a little more Crown mini bottle.

Like I said, the woman loved an egg hunt!

But Easter isn’t really about eggs and baskets and bunnies. Easter is about celebrating life after death.

I’ve thought a lot about that over the past two weeks, and I’ve realized something: when we say “life after death,” we are usually thinking about what that means for the deceased. We think about heaven. We think about the hereafter. We think about eternal life.

But what if we flip it and consider what “life after death” means for the people still living? What does it mean for my life after the death of my mom? What does it mean for me to live after the death of Jesus?

Regardless of who has died, I think a few things remain the same. We want the person’s legacy to live on. We want people to know who they were. We want to share what they taught us.

For my mom, that means we have a few extra desserts. We travel. We balance appreciating the finer things in life with digging in the dirt. We take time to stop and smell the roses.

For Jesus, it means we do our best to love the Lord with all our heart and with all our soul and with all our mind and with all our strength. It means we love our neighbor, and it means we love ourselves (Mark 12:30-31).

Living life after losing someone isn’t easy, to say the least. Sometimes we’re left with guilt or anger or more questions than answers. We’re often on an emotional roller coaster, and I know for me, just when I think things are going ok, grief jumps up and knocks me flat on my back.

But Easter gives us hope and offers us grace. Easter teaches us death isn’t an end, it’s a beginning, and there is life after death for all of us, whether we’re talking about in the here and now or the hereafter.

Ultimately, Easter is a call to action, a challenge to use what we’ve learned from the people we’ve lost to make life better for ourselves and for others. Whether we’re talking about a family member, a friend, or Jesus himself, our job is to take the love they gave us during their lives and pass it on.

Because let’s face it: Easter isn’t a one-day celebration—it’s a reminder to live intentionally all year long.

Keep On Keepin’ On

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Do you ever stop and ask yourself, “Is anyone even listening to me?”

Please tell me you do.

As a teacher and as a mom, I ask myself this question at least once a day.

It usually involves a situation like this:

“Hey, Bud, didn’t I just ask you to sit down?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then why are you still wandering around my room?”

Or a little something like this:

“Didn’t I just tell you to get off your brother?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then why are you sitting on his head?”

In times like these, I wonder if I’ve lapsed into Chinese without knowing it. Or maybe Spanish. Or maybe the words got stuck inside my head and never even made it out of my mouth to begin with. Maybe I just imagined speaking out loud because surely, surely, my sweet students and children wouldn’t disregard my directions so completely.

I often get so frustrated, I want to throw in the towel and stop asking anyone to do anything. What’s the point if everyone is just going to ignore me, right?

Wrong.

A few years ago, a friend shared her family’s tradition of praying in the car on the way to school. She made it seem like a treasured, idyllic way to start the day. It made good sense to me since everybody would be fresh and (trapped) in one place, so I thought we’d give it a try. I pictured us like the von Trapps, matching clothes and smiling faces, enjoying a special time of bonding and togetherness.

It was not.

Jackson, my people-pleasing first born, was more than happy to join in the prayers, but Reeves? Reeves was not interested in the least. In fact, instead of praying, he barked.

Like a dog.

The entire time.

Needless to say, that wasn’t quite what I had in mind. I felt like an epic failure. I mean, seriously, what kind of mom can’t get her five year old to pray? My only consolation to this disheartening turn of events was that if God could understand the Holy Spirit’s groans in Romans 8:26, maybe He could understand Reeves’ barks too.

His barking continued for a few days, until finally, at my wits end, I told Reeves he didn’t have to pray, but he did have to be respectfully quiet.

That helped–a little. Instead of barking, Reeves switched to a low growl for a few days, and after that, he just sat in silence, staring out the window while Jackson and I said our prayers. I honestly didn’t even think he was listening to us.

So imagine my surprise one morning a few months later when we were almost to school, and I heard Reeves say, “Mom, we need to pray.”

I was so shocked, I almost ran off the road. The child who I thought wasn’t paying me any attention had actually been internalizing everything we were doing . . . and he wanted to keep doing it. I was blown away.

These days, if we make it to the baseball field without praying, Reeves is the one who reminds us we need to get started since we’re almost to school. His prayers are simple and heartfelt, and in those moments, I’m thankful I didn’t throw in the towel. In those moments, I’m reminded of 2 Chronicles 15:7, when the Spirit of God tells Asa: But as for you, be strong and do not give up, for your work will be rewarded.

That’s the tricky thing about parenting . . . and teaching . . . and living life in general, really—we never know what people are listening to, what they’re picking up on, what words are making their way from the ears to the heart.

So let this be a word of encouragement for you today. Keep on keepin’ on, friend. Keep saying those prayers, keep speaking those truths, keep sowing those seeds. After all, we never know what will end up taking root and changing someone’s heart.

It’s Not Fantasy

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A few weeks ago, my students were working on a current events assignment when we got into a heated discussion about all of the latest coaches getting hired and fired in the NFL.

At some point during the conversation, one of my students said, “Man, Mrs. Bryant, you know a lot about football for a . . . “

He immediately caught himself and kinda looked sideways at me, a little nervous about what would happen next.

I flashed him my best death stare and said, “Cameron Jones, I dare you to finish that sentence.”

Cam just shook his head and started laughing,

“Nah, nah, Mrs. Bryant. That’s all I was going to say. You know a lot about football.”

Smart kid. I’d hate to think what would have happened to him if he had put “for a girl” at the end of that thought.

And he’s right. I do know a good deal about football.

That would be because from August until February, all Alex, Jackson, and Reeves talk about is football, football, football, namely their fantasy team. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they owned a real team by the amount of time they spend debating player stats, free agency, and injuries. But no, no . . . it’s a complete fantasyland they live in.

As we waited for our food at Home Team BBQ two Sundays ago, Adam Thielen, a wide receiver for the Minnesota Vikings, popped up on the big screen, prompting Jackson to comment, “Hey, we had him on our fantasy team, but we had to trade him away.”

When I asked Jack why they traded Thielen, he shrugged and replied, “Well, after three games, he was only averaging two points per game for us, so we had to get rid of him.”

That seemed pretty harsh to my mama heart. After all, it’s not like the poor guy hadn’t gotten them any points at all. And who’s to say he wasn’t going to crush it the next week?

As I sat there feeling sorry for Adam Thielen (and a little taken aback by GM Jackson’s heartless flippancy), I realized that unlike fantasy players, I am really lucky: I’m part of a team I will belong to for life.

As Christians, we can take comfort knowing God will never kick us off His team or trade us away. If we make our best effort to follow Him, we’re always on His roster.

In Psalm 103, David writes: The LORD is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love. He does not treat us as our sins deserve or repay us according to our iniquities. As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us. For he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.

Thankfully, God doesn’t dismiss us when we underperform. Instead, He offers us love and grace, inviting us back into His huddle time and time again.

This same promise appears in the New Testament as well.

In Romans 8, Paul reiterates David’s message: And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord (38-39).

Both of these passages prove an important truth: We mean something to God. He is a God of second chances . . . and third and fourth if need be. He longs for a relationship with each one of us, and He will never just cast us aside. That’s a promise as current and real today as it was over 2,000 years ago.

So, my friends, take heart, knowing that God will keep you on His roster week after week, no matter how your season is going.

Lessons from Joe Mama

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I will NEVER buy an Elf on the Shelf.

At least that’s what I would have told you four years ago.

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why I’d intentionally torture myself trying to create all of these elf adventures when I was already exhausted from the holidays. Plus, shouldn’t my boys be good because it’s the right thing to do, not because an inanimate doll “watches” them? I mean, let’s be honest, that’s kinda creepy.

But then one night a friend with adult children started talking about all of her family’s wonderful elf memories and how she sometimes longs for the magic of childhood Christmas again, and much like the Grinch, my heart started to thaw as I reconsidered all of my elf-loathing.

Within 24 hours, I had purchased an elf. Granted, I still maintained the tiniest bit of cynicism about the whole thing, which is why I named our elf Joe. See, I figure in a few years, I can tell the boys, “Joe mama was the one moving that thing around at night.” What can I say—middle school humor is my jam.

Anyway, now that Joe has been with us for a few years, he’s grown on me and is truly one of the family. He’s like that long-distance cousin we only see around the holidays but talk about all year long.

A few days after Christmas this year, I was feeling a little down, and no joke, I realized it was because I missed Joe. Not so much the pressure to make him do fun things, mind you, but the feelings that came with him.

I missed waking up to the magic that Joe brought every morning. I missed watching the boys hunt for him, working together with giggles and awe. And I especially missed hearing them brainstorm how he must have gotten to his new location. To hear them tell it, Joe can do better stunts that Ethan Hunt in Mission Impossible.

Even when Joe didn’t move—and let’s face it, there was a time or two when he didn’t, thanks to some unsavory behavior—the boys still believed in his magic, promising Joe and us they’d be better behaved going forward.

I think that’s what I like most about Joe. He always offered the boys the chance of a fresh start. Yes, there were consequences for poor choices, but there was also the hope of forgiveness at the start of a new day.

What’s funny is that God does the same exact thing for us. Lamentations 3:22-23 tells us “because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”

In a way, God is our very own Elf on the Shelf 365 days a year. (Bet you never thought you’d read that sentence!)

But think about it—every morning when we wake up, God is waiting for us, ready to help us face the day. The good news is we don’t have to look all over the place to find Him. That’s because “the Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing” (Zephaniah 3:17). God is always right here with us, no searching required. He wants us to delight in Him, and He wants to celebrate over us.

I hope all of us can begin waking up like the boys do with Joe, full of the same kind of excitement, wondering what blessings God has in store for us. Thankfully, we don’t have to worry about the past; God is focused on making things new. Even when we mess up, which is bound to happen, God stays close, longing to guide us down the right path (Isaiah 43:18-19).

So, whether you’re pro-elf or not so much, one thing remains true—God watches over each one of us with love and forgiveness all year long.

Is Bigger Really Better?

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A few weeks ago, it really hit me how much I am missing my mom during Christmas.

 I was ordering Brooks the Dino World Magna-Tiles, and I realized it was the exact gift I would have told Mom to get for him. Not only would she have ordered the set with gusto, but she would have also thrown in the Jungle Animals and Arctic Animals sets as well. Come December 26, we’d be living in a magnetic wonderland of biomes from around the world.

See, my mom’s love language was 100 percent gift giving.

I’m serious—if she took the actual test, I guarantee you she’d score 100 points in gift giving and zeroes in physical touch, words of affirmation, acts of service, and quality time.

It’s not that she never showed those other qualities, it’s just that she really loved giving gifts, and that outweighed everything else.

Her gift-giving strength meant that Mom was the perfect person to be in charge of buying Jackson a special present when Reeves was born. She wanted to get Jackson something that would both keep him entertained while I took care of Reeves and make him feel like attention was still on him too.

I had just the gift in mind: the Fisher Price Little People Garage. This toy is a classic, largely because of its simplicity. It’s been around since the ‘70s and provides hours of entertainment without taking up much real estate in your house. In fact, its size makes it perfect to carry from room to room, and it would have even been easy to take to Rock Hill for overnight visits at the Shadowbrook China Museum, otherwise known as Queenie’s house.

Lucky for me, Mom seemed on board with this gift idea, so when she called me at the hospital Saturday afternoon to check in on Reeves and me and then asked me to send Alex home so he could “assemble Jackson’s racetrack,” I was a little nervous.

“Umm, Mom, what do you mean ‘assemble’?”

“I thought you were getting the little Fisher Price garage?”

“Mom?”

Crickets.

“About that . . . I may have gone a different route.”

Uh-oh, I knew what that meant. It meant she had found something she considered bigger and better and more appropriate for her angel grandson.

I thought my prior experience had prepared me for what was to come. Boy, was I wrong.

When I walked into my house Sunday afternoon with my brand new baby, I came face to face with the monstrosity that is the VTech Go!Go! Smart Wheels Ultimate Amazement Park Playset.

How can I describe this “amazing” park?

It . . . Was . . . Huge.

It took up pretty much all of the floor space on my living room carpet, and, y’all, the thing was taller than Jackson.

I was immediately confused. You see, this gift was proudly purchased by the same woman who, years earlier, took the Barbie Dream House my grandmother bought me as a Christmas surprise and donated it to the Salvation Army. I didn’t even have the chance to see it, much less send the elevator to the third floor. As Mom confessed years later, she didn’t want that thing “junking up her den.”

Apparently, the rules change when you become the grandmother yourself.

Honestly, it wasn’t the size that really made my blood boil, it was more the flashing lights, the sirens, the revving engines, and the “70+ sing along songs, sounds, and phrases” that could be activated at certain spots on the track.

If that doesn’t sound like something every sleep-deprived new mom would want smack dab in the middle of her living room, I don’t know what does.

Bigger doesn’t always mean better, Queenie.

Just ask the Jewish people waiting on the Messiah 2,000 years ago.

Everyone expected something big, an arrival with bells and whistles, with pomp and circumstance. Maybe there would be trumpets, fanfare, and a parade fit for a king. Or, maybe there would be drums, banners, and a powerful warrior leading a massive army.

But that’s not how Jesus came. It’s not even close.

Jesus came quietly, born in a lowly stable, a manger and hay for a bed, a lone star signaling his location.

Jesus’ arrival wasn’t flashy or fancy, and yet, it’s the greatest gift we’ve ever been given.

As we prepare to open presents this weekend, let’s take a minute to be silent, to be still, and to be thankful that the best things come in small packages.

God showed his love for us by sending his only son into the world that we might live through him (I John 4:9).

The best gift isn’t underneath the tree. It came over 2,000 years ago so that we may have life and have it to the fullest (John 10:10).

That’s a gift we can carry and share all year long.

Merry Christmas!

The Bigger, the Better

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As a parent, I’ve discovered there are a few things I can never have too much of. I can never have too much athletic wear or too many wet wipes. I can never have too much patience or too many Goldfish. And, above all, I can never have too much wisdom.

This has been especially evident the past few months as we have tried to help Brooks get used to “big boy school.” It hasn’t been easy, and we have relied heavily on the wisdom of friends and experts. Thanks to a Sunday school lesson a few weeks ago that focused on James 1:5, we have also started to rely on God’s wisdom.

Last week, Alex and I prayed for wisdom of what to do next, for guidance and clarity. I went on to pray for all of the adults in Brooks’ life to have wisdom for the best ways to help him as well.

Alex chuckled at the second half of my prayer, telling me he didn’t think I could pray for other people to have wisdom, to which I very maturely replied, “Yes, I can. I can pray for whatever I want.”

They say my stubbonrness is genetic.

But seriously, in Psalm 109, David, a man after God’s own heart, asks for his enemy’s days to be few. Then he asks for his enemy’s children to be fatherless, so I think asking for adults I respect to be blessed with wisdom is actually pretty kind and compassionate, comparatively speaking.

Later that morning as I was driving to school, I thanked God for being a God who listens and for being a God who lets me ask for a wide variety of things . . . and that’s when it hit me.

Isn’t that what we all want? To be asked?

Think about it . . .

Do we actually want to chair the fall festival at school? No, probably not, but it sure feels good to be asked.

Do we honestly want to go on a blind date with our best friend’s quirky cousin from out of town? Chances are not really, but it sure feels good to be asked.

Do we seriously want to single-handedly organize a field trip, complete with spreadsheets and permission slips? Nope, not even a little bit, but (say it with me) it sure feels good to be asked.

So, if we don’t have any interest in completing the task, why does it still feel good to be asked? It’s simple: Being asked shows us someone believes in our ability, thinks we’re capable, and needs our help. Ultimately, it means someone trusts us, and that feels good.

God wants the same thing from us too, a relationship where we feel comfortable enough to share our deepest desires, our hopes, and our dreams. A relationship where we trust his ability and rely on his help. He wants us to ask him anything because it brings us closer to him.

Now look, I’m not saying we’re going to get everything we ask for. God isn’t Zoltar, ready to grant Big wishes. But he is willing to listen to everything we ask for.

John 9:31 tells us that “if anyone is a worshipper of God and does his will, God listens to him” (ESV). Paul expands on this idea in Ephesians 3:12 when he writes, “in him [Jesus] we may approach God with freedom and confidence.”

In other words, we don’t have to worry about what we ask God for because he’s not going to judge us or laugh at us or get angry with us. He’s going to listen to us like the good father he is. And, I would imagine, he will be excited we finally had enough faith in his ability to ask him to do something for us he’s wanted to do all along.

So, as you talk to God this week, go ahead and be bold in your asking. Go big! Be honest with God, and be honest with yourself. You have nothing to lose and so much to gain.

Call Me . . . Maybe?

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“Get in the car, guys! We’re running late! Hurry! Hurry!”

That’s how July 30, 2021, started for us as Reeves, Brooks, and I scrambled to get in the car. We were heading to Asbury Hills to pick Jackson up from camp, and we were way behind schedule. I had loaded the boys into my trusty Pilot and was climbing into the front seat when my phone rang.

Now, as a general rule, I detest talking on the phone and avoid it whenever possible. My friends know this about me, and on more than one occasion, I’ve answered the phone to the words, “I know you don’t like talking on the phone, but this will just take a sec.” Answering the phone when I was already stressed from running late was totally out of character for me.

When I glanced down at the caller ID, I saw it was my friend Margaret, who likes to play fast and loose with my “Don’t call me, I’ll call you” rule anyway. I don’t know what possessed me, but I answered the phone, even though I was cranking my car and trying to hit the road. And, man, was I glad I did. Turned out, I was only trying to crank my car. My trusty Pilot was dead as a doornail. How were we going to get to Jackson?

In a panic, I relayed this untimely development to Margaret, and Margaret being Margaret, she immediately offered to let me borrow her car, a sweet Honda Odyssey van complete with a DVD player and push-button start–fancy! With self-closing doors, Jungle 2 Jungle on the big screen, and captain’s chairs, the boys were in heaven. Best.RoadTrip.Ever. To think, we would have missed out on all of the fun, not to mention picking up Jackson, if I hadn’t answered the phone.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing the same thing with God. Am I ignoring his calls?

The short answer is yes. I have put him on hold and sent him to voicemail more than I’d like to admit. But that’s the great thing about God. He is, quite possibly, the most obnoxious and annoying telemarketer ever. He keeps on calling. Even when I try to ignore him because I’m too busy or too scared to talk, he doesn’t give up. He keeps calling. As Paul writes in I Thessalonians 5:24, “The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do it.” And aren’t we thankful that he is and he does? Imagine the blessings we wouldn’t experience if he never hit redial. The best part is we can have faith that if he calls, he will equip us with what we need to answer.

What is God calling you to do? Is it to take that first step or mend that relationship? Is it to reach out to an old friend or try something new? Is it to extend an invitation or put an idea into action? Whatever it is, let’s make a pact to answer when God calls us. It may be scary at first, and it may require us to step out of our comfort zones, but we may be pleasantly surprised by all the good things that follow when we pick up the phone, so to speak.

So, what are you waiting for? Your phone is ringing. Answer the call.

O-R-E-O

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Peace and quiet is hard to come by in a house full of rough and tumble boys, so I take the “me time” I do get very seriously.

A few Sundays ago, I was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping my coffee and enjoying three blissful minutes of quiet when Jackson came bounding in, asking what he could have for breakfast. Frustrated that my moment of silence had been interrupted, I offhandedly said, “Whatever you can find.”

Famous. Last. Words.

Jackson looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes, promptly grabbed a bag of leftover soccer snack Oreos off the table, and dissolved into a fit of delighted giggles.

“Jackson! No! You can’t have Oreos for breakfast!”

He looked me dead in the eyes and said, “You said ‘whatever you can find.’ You have to be careful with your words, Mom.”

Then he scurried back to the den, no doubt to gloat over his breakfast of champions, never realizing how true his words were.

Because Jackson’s exactly right: we do have to be careful with our words, as they have the power to hurt and to heal. Thankfully, we have the opportunity to use our words for good every single day. Proverbs 16:24 tells us “Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones.”

The good news is it takes absolutely no money and not much time to be nice. It could be the friendly greeting offered to the Target cashier, an encouraging text to a friend, a verbal high five for a job well done, or a compliment on a social media post. We never know when our words will be the sweet spot in someone’s day.

One of my oldest friends avoided Oreos in high school because, as she said, “A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.” I think the same can be said about the power of gracious words–It only takes a moment to offer them, but their impact can last a lifetime.

***Quick Note: This post is part of a two-part series, so be sure to follow me on Instagram @laughsatfunerals so you don’t miss Part 2: Eating My Words.

Press Pause

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My first married Christmas was miserable. Being young and naïve, Alex and I thought we could please everybody, so we woke up in Rock Hill to celebrate with my mom, drove to Lexington for lunch at his mom’s, and then trekked to his dad’s for dinner and gifts. By the end of the day, we were less Clark Griswold and more Ebenezer Scrooge. Truthfully, we were living our own version of Four Christmases without the benefit of Vince Vaughn’s jokes to lighten the mood.

The problem with the whole thing wasn’t that I was exhausted by the end of the day. I mean, that was pre-kids, when I didn’t need a daily nap and three cups of coffee. The problem was Alex and I couldn’t enjoy being at one house because we were anxiously planning our departure and worrying about getting to the next house on time.

As we’ve gotten older, Alex and I have gotten much better at making plans that allow us to enjoy each celebration without the pressure of getting to the next family, but it recently occurred to me, we might not be passing that know-how down to our boys.

Jackson is my mini-me, meaning he is all about a schedule. What can I say– I live my life by a bell. But when we were in Atlanta over Spring Break, I realized this characteristic wasn’t necessarily one I wanted to pass on.

Before we left for Atlanta, Jackson made an itinerary with our daily destinations, which was fun because it got us all excited about the trip. When we got to Atlanta, though, I noticed his schedule was starting to steal his joy. At the Georgia Aquarium, he kept asking about the upcoming Braves game; when we were at the Braves game, he kept checking my phone to see if we’d have time to go to the zoo after the game or if we’d need to save that for the next day; and when we were at the World of Coke, he kept looking at my weather app to be sure our trip to the zoo wouldn’t be rained out.

After about the third time he asked for my phone, I turned to him and said, “Can you calm down about later and just enjoy where we are?”

I immediately felt guilty saying that because I understood exactly where he was coming from. He finds comfort in the security of knowing what’s next, and that’s totally normal. I feel the same way a lot of times myself. But even though I understood his thinking, I didn’t want him to miss out on where we were by worrying too much about what was to come.

I read a quote a few year’s ago on a friend’s blog that said, “Be where your feet are,” and it’s stuck with me. Unfortunately, that idea is easier said than done, especially in a culture of FOMO. It’s easy to get caught up thinking about what we’re missing or what’s coming later, but what if what we’re missing out on isn’t an event happening elsewhere? What if what we’re missing out on is the experience happening right in front of us because we’re too busy planning ahead to notice it? Maybe that’s what we should fear.

When my brain starts getting ahead of itself and I lose sight of the here and now, I try to remember this verse from The Message version of Ecclesiastes 5:18-20: “God deals out joy in the present, the now.” I don’t know about you, but I like some joy in my life, making this verse a good reminder to stay focused on today.

Living life isn’t like watching a movie. We lose out on the magic of the moment when we try to fast forward. And since we don’t have the luxury of being able to rewind our lives, we can’t go back to relive a missed experience. Once it’s gone, it’s gone. So, let’s all take a minute this weekend to press pause, to find joy in the present, and to soak in the now, knowing tomorrow will take care of itself (Matthew 6:34).