“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them.” Ephesians 2:10

Thanksgiving is over and the Christmas season is in full swing.  My mind is dancing, not with sugar plums, but with lists of things that need to be done; including presents to wrap, cookies to bake, cards to write, people to visit and traditions to keep.  One of my favorite parts of the season, unlike the Grinch, is the noise, all the Christmas music playing endlessly in my home.  Next to setting up our Nativity scene, I love to gather all the CDs (I know, I’m old school), and place them in the special box under the tree.  Daily, I pick out a few CDs and savor the music as I am going about my daily business.  Even now, I am listening to the Rat Pack croon “Baby, Its Cold Outside” and “It’s a Marshmallow World”.

I love to sing!  I love to belt out tunes and sing to music playing.  I love to sing to children and sing to the radio.  I love show tunes and worship music.  I love to sing in the car and in the shower.  I especially love Christmas music, singing along with Amy Grant’s “Sleigh Ride” and Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas”.  Unfortunately, I came to a realization years ago that, despite my love for singing, I have a terrible ear and I am completely tone deaf.  What may sound pleasant to my ears can cause others to cringe, cats to yowl and dogs to howl.

Now, for those of you who have never heard me sing, you might be saying to yourselves, “Sherry, don’t be so hard on yourself, I am sure you are not as bad as you make yourself out to be.”  I will be the first to argue with you and offer anecdotal evidence that will prove to you exactly how awful I am.

The first piece of evidence I want to share is from when I was nine years old in a Sunday school class taught by my Aunt Brenda.  She had put together a beautiful Christmas program climaxing with an incredibly talented group of young girls angelically harmonizing the song “O, Holy Night”.  I can imagine my aunt being inspired by the virtuous voices vocalizing “O, night divine” and then hearing one voice croaking the same words to a totally different tune.  I can imagine that each time we practiced the song she secretly winced because one voice was ruining the ethereal effect.  After a few times, my aunt asked me to maybe sing a little softer.  As hard as I tried to oblige, I kept getting caught up in the lyrics, gradually getting more zealous and sounding more unpleasant with each note.  Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore, and asked if I wouldn’t mind mouthing the words to the song.  This was my first clue I couldn’t sing.  Please don’t think badly of my aunt, she encouraged me in so many other ways.  She just recognized I couldn’t sing.

Amazingly, this didn’t discourage me and I continued my ill-fated vocal journey.  I joined chorus in Junior High School.  I was so excited after my failure to learn the clarinet, and I had such a desire to perform that I thought choir was going to be a place I could shine.  I was assigned to the alto section and often my chorus teacher would stand next to me trying to teach me the alto part, eventually also remarking that I should sing softer.  I sort of recognized that I couldn’t sing, enough to know I shouldn’t try out for Swing Choir, but I still believed I was improving.  Then came the school Christmas program, you know the one that you practice for weeks and invite parents to see.  The chorus teacher approached me and asked if I wouldn’t mind doing the speaking part between the songs.  I felt so honored and I was excited!  I would be acknowledged in the program as the speaker and would wear a special elf hat to distinguish me from the rest of my classmates.  She then told me that since I was speaking, I would just stay in my spot and not sing.  My enthusiasm blinded me to what my teacher was trying not to say.  Years later, I had an epiphany that the real reason she gave me the speaking part was to stop me from singing.  I am sure she winced just as my aunt had years earlier.

By the time I became a mother, I had recognized that I couldn’t sing.  Other evidence I can present includes my talented husband, who happened to be the church choir director, didn’t encourage me to join the choir, but instead asked me to be the choir babysitter.  Probably the strongest evidence was when my five-year-old son admonished me saying, “Mama, I don’t think that’s how the song goes”.

I have presented my case, and now you can agree with me that I can’t carry a tune.  Despite my love for music, I have accepted this fact and it has not harmed my self-image.  I truly believe we all have different gifts and talents.  I might not be able to sing or play an instrument, but I do have other talents.  It is my responsibility to develop my talents and gifts and use them to benefit my family, my church and my community.

At the same time, I also think it’s important to work on developing new talents and skills, even in the middle of your life.  The old adage, “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks”, is just an excuse to be stagnant.  Lately, I have read a lot about brain development and I believe it is important for me to be constantly exploring and developing new skills at my age.  I can still create new neural pathways in my brain by learning and practicing new skills.  This will help me stay sharp as I age and lessen the risk of developing dementia.

A few years ago, I attended the annual Pennsylvania Ladies’ Conference.  After almost nineteen years of being a stay-at-home mother and home educator, I was struggling with what my new role in life should be.  I was incredibly blessed to hear the wise Sis. Janet Trout speak.  If you’ve never heard her speak, I challenge you to find her on YouTube and listen to her.  She is a classy, dynamic woman who is driven to bless the kingdom of God.  She was around eighty years old at the time of the conference and was sharing with us her vision for ministry.  She said as you get older, you need to choose how to use your time more wisely, but still be growing.  She practiced this in her own life by going back to school and earning her PHD in her seventies.  Her message resonated in my life, breathing direction and fresh ideas for me to explore.  Writing this blog was only one idea that was birthed by her message.

As the year 2020 approaches, I want to continue to grow as a person.  I want to continue to improve my writing and I am currently working on a book about restoration from my childhood abuse.  I want to explore sketching and try my hand at embroidery.  I may find that my embroidery skills rank in the same category as my vocal talent, but it doesn’t hurt for me to attempt.

I still cannot sing, and will never be asked to be a praise singer in my church.  Nor should I ever volunteer to sing a solo for a Christmas program.  I will continue to sing Christmas music unabashedly in the privacy of my home, even if my husband secretly winces.  More importantly, I will remember that I am “his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works”, and I will develop the gifts God has ordained in me!

The Lord preserveth the strangers; he relieveth the fatherless and widow: but the way of the wicked he turneth upside down.

As a child, reading was often my way of escaping the harsh realities of my childhood.  I would go to the library and check out as many books as I could, hoard them in my bedroom and read till my eyes were blurry, immersed in the characters’ lives and relishing every happily ever after.  The stories that seem to captivate me the most were the ones about orphans, such as Oliver Twist, The Boxcar Children and Anne of Green Gables.  Yes, these stories abounded with tragedy, but the tragedies are seen through a romantic filter that casts the misfortunes in a less harsh light and the happy endings in a warm fuzzy glow.  My overactive imagination even led me to believe that I was an orphan who discovered that my step-father was a Russian spy, and it was up to me to save America from nuclear annihilation!  You are probably wondering, where is she going with this?  Is she going to address reading, her childhood or her overactive imagination?  I promise I am going somewhere, so just follow me on a journey that another family has traveled.

My husband and I made the decision years ago for me to home educate our children.  Thus, to help make ends meet, I have often provided childcare in my home.  Every child that has come into my home has been divinely appointed by God for a period of time.  I know that sounds bold, but I believe it to be true.  I never advertised, but the doors always opened through my husband’s work, our church or by word of mouth.  Each time, we prayed and felt led from God that we could be a blessing to each of the families.  I considered it an honor that parents and grandparents trusted my family with their children.

At the time of my daughter’s high school graduation, another door opened.  This door would prove to be the most challenging, yet one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.  A friend’s coworker had decided to expand her family through foster care and, eventually, adoption.  She was looking for someone to help her with childcare.  After talking, we found out how close we lived, and that proximity would be a blessing for both of our families.  I decided that, since the door had opened, I would walk with this family on their journey.

To give you some background, let me introduce the Klines.  At the time, this couple already had four children of their own, ranging in age from ten to sixteen.  They are an exuberant family, full of love and energy.  Both Chris and Jolene are passionate about children and God, and already felt tremendously blessed.  They felt their hearts were big enough and they wanted to share those blessings with more children who did not have a forever home

Within a few weeks, they received a phone call from an agency that two siblings, ages two and four, needed to be placed immediately.  They were also told that adoption was a strong possibility.  They received the children on Friday, and my first day was the following Monday.

These two little ones were a whirlwind of energy that some might call absolute chaos!  I have to admit, after the first day, I wasn’t sure if I had the stamina for them.  My son said, “Mom, you got this!” when I voiced my doubts.  As Ethan spoke those words, it was as if God was speaking to me saying, “With my strength, you can do this.”  I am so glad that my son echoed God’s sentiments; it gave me the courage to continue.  A little over a year later, the Kline were able to adopt these two little fireballs.  One of the moments I will treasure most in my life is hearing the judge pronounce the adoption official while the whole crowd of family and friends gathered with them in the courtroom whooping joyfully.

Adoption is not always a romantic picture like the ones I read in books.  It’s full of challenges.  Often, these children have experienced trauma of some sort and feel rejected.  They often do not experience the typical bonding that infants need to feel secure and accepted.  This can hinder them in all areas, including physically, developmentally, socially and psychologically.  They do not even experience some of the normal rites of passages that most children receive, like birthday celebrations or family vacations.  Even the very definition of a mother and father confuses these children, causing them to often devalue the importance of these roles.

Despite the challenges, I have witnessed healing victories through the Kline adoption journey.  I’ve seen a young boy follow his daddy like a shadow, trying to emulate his father mowing the lawn or building a deck.  I see a young girl who could not wait to have her name on the sign that hangs in her home with the rest of Kline family.  I also saw this same young girl who told me this past weekend she was a little nervous about spending the night because she does not ever remember not sleeping with her sister, someone she just met less than 3 years ago.  I see two children who cannot wait to go camping and spend Thanksgiving with their grandparents, because they now have traditions.  I have seen two parents who already had a full life, by all measures, open their hearts and home, embracing two little people by providing love, stability and consistency.  This has come at a cost for them: nights of lost sleep, adding to an already busy schedule, and the challenges of how to best parent these two little ones.

I recently discovered that November is National Adoption Month, leading me to spend some time examining scriptures relating to adoption.  I found it interesting that the Bible addresses how to treat the “fatherless” over 42 times in the Old Testament.  It encourages us to “defend the poor and fatherless” in Psalm 82:3, and describes God as “the father of the fatherless” in Psalm 68:5.  In the New Testament, Jesus makes clear to his disciples the value of children, and admonishes us to have faith like a child.  Paul often relates the salvation experience to adoption, where we become the sons and daughters of God.  In 1:27, James remarks “Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.”  Even the Holy Ghost, the very indwelling of God’s spirit in our hearts, is described in John 14:18 by saying, “I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.”  In this verse, “comfortless” is translated from the Greek word “orphanos”, meaning fatherless.  God gave us the gift of the Holy Ghost so we will not be fatherless!!  All of these scriptures demonstrate that God cares deeply about the fatherless.

Although I celebrate with the Kline family, I am also challenged about my own responsibility to the fatherless.  What can I do personally to help these children?  What is my responsibility?  Friends, what is your responsibility?  I am not calling all of us, or even myself, to start adoption procedures, immediately.  Adoption is something that should be considered prayerfully, not made in a moment of passion.  Yet, I can still reach out to those families who have adopted and encourage them in their journey.  I can minister to those in my local church who are from broken homes and be a mentor in their lives.  I can reach out to children in my neighborhood who need a positive light to shine in their lives.  I can financially commit to places like The Lighthouse Ranch for Boys and Tupelo Children’s Mansion, two Christian organizations that support and defend broken and fatherless children.  I can be blessing in so many ways, and so can you!

Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content. Philippians 4:11

My mind has been a swirling vortex, full of ideas of what to write about next.  In the midst of this vortex, I created a written list and promptly misplaced it.  If you are familiar with the Myers/Briggs personality temperament, you can guess that I identify with being a P versus a J.  Maybe someday I will blog about personality tests, but right now I should go back to the lost list.  I remembered that some of the thoughts on the list included writing about gratitude, habits, hygge (google that term, it’s a great idea to embrace) and ideas to strengthen marriage.  I am sure that I will eventually write about these topics, but none of them seemed to inspire me for this week.  One of my goals for this blog was that I would listen more intently to the whispers of God and let His voice influence my writing.  In the past, the next idea would solidify as soon as I finished posting my latest blog, but this week I had the swirling vortex!

I started my morning out frantically trying to narrow down a topic and put my fingers to the keyboard and write.  Still the swirling vortex, so I decided to take a walk.  I bundled myself up in layers and headed out in the frigid air.  This cold November walk around my neighborhood cleared my head and made room for the voice of God.  Not an audible voice, not really a voice at all, but rather the smell of someone’s wood-burning fireplace reminded me of one of God’s principles.  It amazes me that if we take some time, remove distractions, and pay attention to our surroundings, God can use simple ideas to illustrate His principles.  He wants to speak to us, we just need to be present and listen.

I actually stopped for a few moments to inhale the aroma of the wood burning while the principle of contentment permeated my thoughts.  According to the dictionary, contentment is defined as the feeling of satisfaction with one’s possessions, status or situation.  Why would the smell of wood burning remind me to be content, you might ask?

One of my greatest dreams is to own a home with a real wood-burning fireplace.  I don’t want a substitute like a wood stove or a gas fireplace.  I want an old fashioned fireplace, one where I could hire Dick Van Dyke to be my chimney sweep while he sings about Mary Poppins.  I love the idea of waking up on a cold morning, stoking the fire, curling up with a warm throw, and reading my Bible against the backdrop of flickering flames.  The smell and the sound of the wood crackling would instantly calm the swirling vortex.  I envision decorating the raw edged wooden mantle with heirloom mementos and pictures of my family.  I imagine future grandchildren making s’mores at the fire on Christmas Eve while listening to their Poppy reading The Littlest Angel and Luke’s account of the birth of our savior.  Yet, I live in a home with no fireplace or mantle while I content myself with the smell of someone else’s fireplace.

It’s important to have dreams.  They inspire us and motivate us to set goals.  The poet Langston Hughes said, “Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.”  Personally, I want to fly and have no desire to stay on the ground.  But being content doesn’t mean you give up on your dreams.  It just means you recognize where you are, or what you have, and choose to be satisfied until your circumstances change.

Unfortunately, choosing to be satisfied can be hard in today’s society.  With the advent of social media, it is very easy to compare my life to the lives I see in the pictures of others.  Their lives are on display in amazing vacations to exotic locations while my latest vacation had to be canceled due to budget constraints.  I see their beautifully designed homes with aged wooden floors that gleam in the sunlight while my twenty-year-old kitchen linoleum is dull and lifeless.  I see an Instagram influencer in an adorable fall outfit with mid-calf leather boots while I try on multiple leather boots for my fall wardrobe and can’t find a pair that fit comfortably over my bunions.  Comparison to someone else’s Instagram life can rob me of my contentment!

I could cancel all my social media accounts and maybe that would make me content.  But, somehow, I don’t think that is the answer.  I need to learn to look at other’s people lives and rejoice with them over their successes and blessings.  I also need to recognize that what I am seeing is just highlights.  What I am not seeing is the everyday nitty-gritty of living, where the wooden floors are full of dust bunnies, or the hours they spent shopping for boots.

Paul, one of the greatest missionaries ever, says he learned that whatsoever state he was in to be content.  This is a man who was beaten multiple times, shipwrecked three times and imprisoned.  He made a conscious decision to be content, even knowing that he would likely die while in prison.

If you look at my Facebook highlights for the last nine years, you might think that my life has been amazing.  You will see the times my family has traveled on the East Coast, you will see pictures of family and friends visiting us, and you will see marriages, graduations and celebrations.  You will see some amazing highlights, but what you will not see are life’s challenges that I don’t post on Facebook.

I haven’t been shipwrecked like Paul, but I have moved to a new state where I desperately missed my family and friends.  I could have stayed miserable, but after some time, I had to choose to be content and find joy in Pennsylvania.  I haven’t been beaten with whips, but I have had two surgeries in the last three years, and dealt with an auto-immune disease on a daily basis for the last 15 years.  I could bemoan the fact that one of my fingers is deformed because of my condition, but instead I choose to use my fingers to write.  I have not ended up in prison, but have had to deal with hardships, including losing a beloved mother-in-law and my husband losing his job three times due to layoffs.  Even in the midst of those hardships, I chose to be content and count my blessings.

Like Paul, I too have learned to be content, even if the fireplace is still just a dream and a wonderful smell in my neighborhood.

My flesh and my heart faileth, but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion forever. Psalm 73:26

A few months ago, I had a conversation with an old friend that impacted me.  From a young age, he was on the path to success; having a strong moral compass, being academically driven, and talented in many areas.  He was the “golden child”, the one everyone voted most likely to succeed! And he has succeeded, holding various leadership positions in his profession.  Yet, he shared with me that he wished he had been allowed to fail on some level as young person.  The pressure of being “perfect” and successful never gave him the opportunity to find beauty in failure.  It is something that he will allow his children to experience: beauty in the context of failure.

Beauty in failure sounds paradoxical.  Even the word failure sounds final and cacophonous to our ears, blaring loudly for everyone to hear! Most of us can vividly remember a time when we failed.  When we were young we cringed at the red ink scrawled across our school papers.  As adults, we cover our failures by saying it’s “a career change” or “a new direction”.  We openly share our successes on social media, but downplay our shortcomings.  Personally, I am inclined to post pictures of the colorful Korean tacos with the Asian slaw, hoping to tantalize people’s taste buds, but quickly dump the bland Kielbasa cabbage soup with no opportunity for Facebook comments.

Some failures can become humorous family legends.  One Collins’ family legend is the time I planned a family excursion to Baltimore.  My teens didn’t want to go, preferring to stay in their rooms on a cold winter day.  My husband was reluctant, not particularly impressed with Baltimore’s tourist attractions.  Yet, I persuaded, cajoled, and then bribed my family, enticing them with a free bookstore and yummy food.  The bookstore turned out to be in a sketchy area with the odors of urine and alcohol permeating the shelves, prompting us to douse our hands in sanitizer as we left.  Still in the sketchy area, the restaurant I had picked was a little too “hippie” for my husband, a neon purple and green building surrounded by abstract lawn ornaments.  The next restaurant I found was a pricier BBQ joint with food that tasted like frozen pulled pork that had been under the heat lamp way too long.  I was desperately trying to redeem the day when I saw the flashing neon light of a donut shop.  My family loves donuts and I thought we could end the day on a high note with a sugar rush; forgetting the smell of urine, toxic colors and bad BBQ!  The first sign that this high note wasn’t going to end well was the sticky floor and the greasy-looking teenager behind the counter.  Yet, I persisted, ordering a dozen specialty donuts.  Needless to say, eight donuts ended up in the trash.  We now tell this story with a few embellishments and a lot of laughter.

This is any easy failure to acknowledge, but not all failures are displayed for public levity.   Recently, I and some people I love, experienced some failures.  There was nothing funny about the experiences.  It was hard, really hard, to face the failures and deal with the consequences.  The details are unimportant, yet, I am sure that most of you can relate to experiencing hard failures in your lives, whether they be relational, financial, spiritual, or professional.  These are the failures that paralyze us for a bit and cause us to reevaluate everything we believe about ourselves, others and God.

Yet, if we allow God to walk us through it, we can find beauty in the midst of the failure, as well as on the other side.  I found beauty in three specific ways:

• I found beauty in reflecting God’s unconditional love to those who had failed.  It allowed the people I love to grow from their failure instead of letting the failure define their self-worth.  I believe the compassion others showed them positively changed the trajectory of their lives.
• I found beauty in God refining my character in the midst of the failure.  God uses failures in your life to point out shortcomings.  In my case, it was pride and self-reliance.  Refining gold doesn’t happen by leaving the gold in its natural state.  Refining happens by putting it through fire and removing the impurities, so that it can shine brilliantly.
• I found beauty on the other side of the failure.  I am a better person because of the failures.  I’ve learned about myself and how my life measures up to the nature of God.  The failures pointed me towards Christ, rather than leaning on my own understanding.  I have also enjoyed the fruits of restoration in people’s lives.  It becomes a beautiful place where brokenness is healed and you see growth in relationships.

One of the greatest examples of failure in the Bible is David.  He has the distinction of being the only person in the Bible known as “a man after God’s own heart.”  This was declared despite the fact he had major life failures: lust, adultery, deception, and murder. This same David is also known as the giant killer, the worshipper, and the greatest king of Israel, all because he had a contrite heart and didn’t let his failures define him!

Before HGTV made it fashionable to re-purpose junk, the Japanese have, for thousands of years, repurposed broken pottery into beautiful art pieces.  This art form, known as kintsugi, uses a mixture of gold dust, resin and lacquer to reattach the broken pieces.  Many of these older pieces can be found in museums.  The process transforms ordinary, broken pottery into a beautiful work that glitters in the broken spots.  Friends, I will fail, and so will you!  Yet, if we allow God to be our strength and portion, He can create “kintsugi” beauty out of our failures!

“And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily as to the Lord, and not unto men;” Colossians 3:23

Initially, I was going to write about my journey to being healthier, but some tragic events happened in the last weeks that have caused me to be more reflective. Three different men that I know have passed away. One was a high school classmate that I haven’t seen in years, the second was an elder in our church, and the third was an old friend who was instrumental in God’s plan for our move to Pennsylvania. All three men were very different from each other: a dairy farmer, a logger, an entrepreneur. Yet all three had one common trait: their individual passions drove them to make a difference in their families and in their communities.

What do I mean when I say the word passion? Passion is defined as “an intense desire or enthusiasm for something”. We are all created differently and have had different life experiences which lead to different passions. Some of us are passionate about social injustice, some about our faith, and for some it can be about a simple hobby like gardening. We all have that something that, when we talk about it, our eyes light up, our heart rate increases, and we get excited. Yet some people, like these three men, go above and beyond: cultivating, sharing and leaving behind them a legacy of their passion.

When I first heard about my classmate being moved into hospice, I read the story of his life beyond high school. He cared passionately about the dairy industry and did his best to promote and educate his community about farming. He wrote a blog about his life as a farmer, and most of his posts can speak to you about your own life, farmer, or not. He was innovative, and was recognized by his community, and his industry, with various accolades. He not only had passion, but he gave voice to his passion!

It’s not enough to be passionate about something. Our passions need to be shared with others. Sharing doesn’t mean beating someone down with your opinions and pushing them to believe in your passions. Instead, it means to gently educate them about your passion, helping them to see how it can relate to their lives. Sharing can cause other people to be inspired and set them on a journey to discover their own passions.

When my family attended the visitation of the second man who passed away, I was amazed at how many people came to pay their respects. The elder lived in a small rural community in the mountains, and we waited in line for an hour and a half. It was as if the whole community came. My husband met one gentleman in line who had been a salesman for a logging equipment and had not seen the deceased man for over 50 years. Yet, this elder made such an impression on him that he felt the need to be at the visitation! That tells me that this elder had integrity in his passion.

Integrity is having a firm adherence to a moral foundation. I’m sure the logging industry challenged a person’s integrity with bidding on land, hiring workers, and property disputes. Yet, this elder based his life on the Bible and it was evident in his decision-making. People don’t turn out to pay their respects for someone who is a cheat or a swindler. They came to pay their respects to someone who had contributed to their community in an ethical manner. Our passions need to be based on a firm foundation of moral principles.

The third man, the entrepreneur, was probably one of the most driven men I have ever known. He was driven to succeed in all areas of his life: his relationship with God, being a family man, and a businessman. I have known few men who worship as intensely as he did, always making a joyful noise in praise to God, whether he was on key, or not. He always found an opportunity to talk about how much he loved his wife and children, praising them in their accomplishments and finding ways to make their dreams come true. He started off with little education, but was always finding new ways to improve himself and his situation. He started two companies that, from all accounts, were very successful.

In order for our passions to be more than just casual interests, we must be driven by them. They should shape our lives and fuel our vision. If we have no drive, we end up leading ordinary lives: unfulfilled, lacking passion and leaving no lasting legacy.

Now, I am going to be completely transparent with you. The last few years I have been lacking passion. My previous passion had been to be a good mom who home-educated my children. I was driven to provide my kids with a solid education. I held myself to high standards and shared my passion with other moms as they started their own journeys in homeschooling. Yet, after my daughter’s high school graduation, I found myself wondering, who am I and what do I want to do. I felt stuck and unfulfilled.

It is easy to get caught up in the mundane tasks of living while life passes you by. Yet, I knew there was something more. I started reading books about life transitions and goals, and paid attention to what spoke to my soul and sparked my interest. I asked myself hard questions and faced some fears. And I prayed.

I am still figuring out my path. But I am moving forward. One of my current passions is to be transparent about this journey in order to benefit other women who might be facing some of the same challenges that I am facing. I don’t have all the answers, but God has been dropping nuggets of wisdom along my path.

Three men have been memorialized, honored and buried in the last few weeks. Three families are still mourning their loss. Three groups of friends are still missing their friend. Yet three men lived out their passions and have made our world a better place. I pray, someday, the same will be said of me.

Autumn is my favorite season. I love the crisp air, the smell of wood burning, the changing leaves and hot apple cider. I anxiously count the days until I can decorate the house for fall and buy my annual bag of seasonal M&M’s.

This year I made my yearly pilgrimage to Target to peek at the pumpkins and gourds, and buy my seasonal bag of M&M’s, full of tan, brown, wine and plum colored candies. To my dismay, Mars company changed their seasonal candy to a ghoul theme! I was borderline irate! Actually, I thought about emailing the company to share my frustrations. Who wants purple and Mr. Yuck green candies in their birch wood ceramic bowl?

And then I read this quote on Pinterest, “Autumn shows us how beautiful it is to let things go”. The quote stuck with me for a few days and marinated in my soul. Is it really beautiful to let things go?

When we are younger, it seems like we are always looking forward to something: our birthday, Christmas, graduation, marriage, etc. We can’t wait to reach the next milestone. Yet, when we have children, we start looking backward and want to hang onto every moment. And then we have to learn to let go: our children’s first day of school (mine was in our home), taking their first drive after getting their license, waving goodbye as they board a train for their first missionary trip, hugging them in the door of their college dorm room, and eventually hearing them say “I do” to their future spouse. At these moments, we want to cling desperately to the past. I have often wondered why God doesn’t allow children to stay younger for at least one more year!

Yet, letting go can be beautiful. You can send your child to the grocery store for a missing item; you feel your child’s passion as they discuss their experience on the mission field; you see them grow in ways they couldn’t if they stayed home; and the beautiful young woman your son chose to marry, you get to call her your daughter-in-love and friend!

This week I had to let go of some things……

These books represent what’s left of 20 years of homeschooling material. They might not mean much to you, but each book was read with anticipation and excitement with my children. Hours were spent sitting on the couch reading history, or pouring over maps and dreaming of far away places. I have to admit I did grieve a little as I took them off my shelves. Even God recognizes the importance of grief when he says in Ecclesiastes 3 that to everything there is a season, including a time to mourn. The important thing to remember is that mourning should only be a season! We can’t stay in that season too long, otherwise we won’t be able to see the beauty of future seasons.

Yes, my season of homeschooling is over. I get to pack these treasures away and prayerfully see my grandchildren delight in these books just as their parents did before them. In the meantime, I have the opportunity to look forward to God’s plan as it unfolds in my life, whether that’s a new career, graduate school (something I’m contemplating, now) or a new ministry. I also have empty space on my bookshelves to fill with new treasures.

As for the ghoulish M&M’s, I decided they had been for a season, but that season was over, now. They had become more of a tradition, no longer my candy of choice when I want something sweet. I also no longer have little hands around me reaching into the bowl for a quick snack. Instead, I filled the bowl with dark chocolate Dove promises with vaguely profound sayings.

Yes, it is beautiful to let things go.

Hi! My name is Sherry Collins, and I am a Christian. Although I live south central PA, I identify myself as a Wisconsinite. I’ve been married for 23 years to a wonderful man, Terry (and yes our names rhyme). I have 2 adult children and a daughter-in-law, all of which I adore. In the last year, I’ve been on a journey losing over 100lbs, but more importantly shedding some pride, arrogance and thorns, while gaining insight, victory and new perspective on God.