Family – Women of Purpose

A Celebration of Masculinity

“They say women don’t need men anymore,” my fourteen year old son told me on the way to school.

“Who says that?” I asked. “Because your mom and sisters certainly don’t believe that.

The look on his face made me want to cry. Fourteen year old boys are already facing identity questions. Who am I, and where do I belong? Who needs me?

And yesterday as he helped his sister move, I could see his shoulders square up. He literally saved the day along with another young man who brought a truck to help with a heavy mattress.

My daughter and I had no problem needing men yesterday and I was so proud of her as she expressed respect and appreciation for the men’s strength and help. Ironically, the two young men lit up doing exactly what she needed.

Biological design lines up with Biblical order, because the God of the Bible created biological design. Fascinating, life giving, encouraging and affirming of both genders–we simply cannot improve this.

God designed good men to want to care for and protect women. And I want to say to all women, even to those who’ve been hurt by a man, that women need good men.

We had a talk there in the car, my boy and I. Femininity and masculinity are both under attack in our culture, and I want my children to know deeply the calling God has on their lives.

My son is the first to open my door when we go out. I trained him for this, on purpose, by standing to the side of the door until he got there. And the other day when I asked him what the newest thing was that he learned on his phone, he said, “How to be a good husband someday.”

Yesterday as I spoke with another woman struggling with betrayal, I spoke to her of womanhood, how even us single ladies can inspire the world with feminine manners that call out the best in people around us.

We don’t need a husband to do this, though we wish for one. We can still embody what we’ve always wanted to be. We can refuse the attitude of “I don’t need a man” and instead hold on to gratefulness for the good men in the world.

We can still be fully woman and fully alive.

And here’s the thing—ladies, you don’t need a perfect man in order to be a grace-filled woman. If he provides for you, is faithful to you, and seeks to love you, be grateful every day. Look for the ways he’s showing love even if it’s different than what you want. And if you need him to show love another way, ask him for that specifically. But please don’t walk around with a chip on your shoulder if you have a truly good, but imperfect, husband.

Tell him you appreciate him, often.

Notice his good qualities and speak them out loud.

Let him come home to peace—and remember, peace is a gift for your children, too.

Look him in the eyes and smile. Like, truly meet his eye with a smile.

When he comes home after a long day of labor, let him rest. If you’re a stay at home mom, please don’t nag at him to fold laundry unless you truly need help because of babies, etc.

If you’re a working mom, let him know you need his support when you both get home.

Be specific and gracious in your requests. Men want to be asked for a need they can meet rather than be nagged for a need they didn’t meet, because they were never asked.

I’m here to call out gratefulness for the faithful man.

This man may not be as romantic as you want him to be. He may not know any of your favorite therapy phrases or personality tests or attachment styles. He may kick off his boots inside your door and drape his coat over your dining room chair.

He may love God but not be the best teacher of each chapter in scripture.

I’m calling women to stop the comparison game and stare down the blessing of a man who loves you for life. Some of you are blessed to have all your bills paid without having to worry about it. Others of you are working alongside your husband to meet financial needs in a cost-hijacked world. Either way, your husband wants to know he’s your support and at the end of the day, you need him.

He wants to know you’re grateful.

He needs to know you admire him.

If that gives you struggle, I want to remind us ladies that admiration to a man is what love is to a woman. Today’s world embraces women who ask for love while it scorns men who need to be admired and respected. Yet, one is as good as the other because both are God-designed.

I defy divorce culture in the name of Jesus because I see a better way, a way that creates heaven-sent love into the hearts of our children and each other. I know it takes two, and one cannot do it alone—but one can always find their identity in Christ, obey His word, and leave the outcome to Jesus Who doesn’t force change on anyone.

Remember that if you follow Jesus in how you treat your spouse, change in your spouse is not guaranteed—but here’s the thing: obeying God will change YOU. And a love relationship with Jesus is worth having whether or not our spouse gives us the relationship we long for.

I speak this over you as a woman who tried (too hard) to save her marriage, and it broke anyway. God’s call for me as a woman always has been to carry myself with honor and dignity. It’s a “Yes, Lord” love relationship with Jesus that isn’t based on what I get or don’t get.

And I want you to know, married friends, that you can carry yourself with honor and joy with an imperfect husband. Be joyful, be grateful, address needs clearly, get your head out of the sand, and live free.

The Ancient of Days always has had, and always will have, ancient ways. Those ways aren’t feeling based; they are truth based–and they truly work for good.

Whoever dares plant their feet on the Rock of Ages will truly stand on something solid where the gift of God remains undeniably life giving, life changing, and life altering.

Today, look at your imperfect husband and speak it to him, “I appreciate you so much for—.”

Men need to be needed. And I will say to any woman, “Men ARE needed.”

The bulk of military is …..men.

Most hunters are……men.

Most construction workers…….men.

Strongest and tallest………..men.

Fastest to protect……..men.

And you want a baby? Well, I hate to break it to you but you need a…….man.

Tell him you appreciate him, today and often in the days to come.

In a world of dishonor, remember that your crowning glory as a woman is to honor those around you, and especially your husband.

Never let the world rob you of the dignity of womanhood. Because if we do, we lose the ability to encourage true manhood.

A sisterhood is truly thriving if it sees the value of brotherhood. And to all the ladies out there, if you meet my boys, please treat them like gentlemen who are needed in the world, with God given attributes different than your own because women do not have it all.

Together, as we celebrate both masculinity and femininity, we have what we need.

Love,

Sara

Why I Bought a 118 Year Old House

For the past four and a half years, even though my rentals were decent, sweet little homes, I’ve felt like I live in a hotel room.

The place I left behind in Washington state was part of my heart and soul. I loved the mountains, river, wrap-around porch, and tall trees protecting the brown, gable roofed house where four levels were inhabited by happy children and guests.

Moving to the south east with four children had me praying a lot, asking God for answers, and wanting to feel at home. I had a down payment for a house, but not for matching sky-rocketing prices in the surrounding Charlotte area. So, I resigned to not buying a home.

But God had a surprise waiting for me, just around the corner.

My mom came to visit and one day browsed her phone for homes in the area. Knowing how much I wanted to settle inside my own walls, she looked for anything possible, and in five minutes God led her to the one thing that felt impossible.

A beautiful 118 year old Victorian style foreclosure stared at us from the screen and begged to be seen. So, we did—and miracle of miracles, that same “at home” feeling came over me as it had with my home in Washington state.

Before and after cleaning the front yard.

So began a series of phone calls with my dad asking his advice, and making multiple lower offers they didn’t accept until I finally offered full price as well as closing costs.

I expected them to accept the offer on my birthday but instead, they put it up for auction and I was devastated. Still, I knew there had to be a reason and I prayed that day, pondering life as I took the kids hiking, determined to make the most of my 44^th birthday.

A few days later I had my joy back and was moving on from the house idea when my realtor told me they were going to accept my offer and were merely missing papers because he hadn’t submitted the correct ones.

Thus began a journey of purchasing an ancient home with a complicated foreclosure process, a toilet with a copper pipe and water tank mounted close to the ceiling, and enough charm oozing out of old wooden floors to keep me fascinated for the rest of my life.

The house had been winterized and I didn’t know if there’d be leaks when the city turned on water. Cleaning day was set and water was figured out only the day before, but each time stress wanted to mount high, the Lord would powerfully remind me that He’s taking care of things and I just needed to trust.

It was almost like He’d speak to me in the car, telling my heart to quiet down because He had this. Thus began a beautiful process of God doing things.

Friends helped me clean it, and then, one of them sent her husband to take over my yard work. I’d been out there with gloves but after a few hours had barely made a dent in weeds and must have been bitten by a thousand mosquitos. Inch by inch, I knew I’d get it done.

My friends thought otherwise and before I knew what was happening, an excavator was in my yard along with a crew of eight men. All I did was come by after work, day after day, to watch the overwhelming task unfold into a beautiful, clean space.

I cried grateful tears in front of the whole crew.

My neighbor watched and said one day, “Sometimes God just does things.”

The kids and I have found home.

After the back yard process.

Every day, I feel like I’m living a dream. The peace is palpable here, and the feeling of home is in every corner. The toilet still stands and I am as determined as ever to keep and restore the ancient, rusted, leaking tank towering above me close to the ceiling.

A friend took a look at the rusty old tank, looked at me and asked, “You want to keep this toilet?”

I’d never felt so certain of anything, so the next words out of his mouth became, “Ok then, we’ll find a way to fix it.”

For now, water drips into a glass mason jar while I choose to focus on the joy of a freshly painted, white claw foot tub that used to be blue with gold feet before I took a brush to it. Some things have to be changed immediately, while other things take time and perhaps years, like room after room of funky paint colors and wall papers.

The furniture we already had fit like a glove inside these walls, all the way down to my son’s pool table creating a billiard room, and the table I’d brought all the way from my Washington state air bnb, creating a chess corner under stained glass windows.

Inside these walls, some colors I love, some I tolerate, and some I endure. We find most joy when life doesn’t have to be perfect in order to be wondrously beautiful.

I’ve always loved turning houses into homes, and I hope my story of this miracle in a difficult real estate world encourages you to trust God with your desires, year after year after year—whether you’re laughing or crying—keep trust, grow in faith, and know that doing the next right thing can only lead you forward, closer to His heart.

I don’t say God is good because He brought me a dreamy house that makes me feel at home. I would say He is good even if it hadn’t worked out—because here’s the wonderful thing about a heavenly God—He is always good even when earth is not.

First Fourth of July in our new old home.

Keep faith in HIM alone. He is our Rock, and He knows when to move.

Love from my home to yours,

Sara

Live as if You Were Dying

Watching four children walk up stage to express love for their father, in tears, broke me a little today. Two of the girls were engaged and had lost their dad just before their weddings. Everyone was in tears, and what they loved most about the man who passed away was his love for gathering with others and creating spaces where people enjoyed each other’s company.

I knew it was true because I’d experienced it from him, too. He was always interested in meaningful conversation and as his daughter said, “He made me feel like I was the smartest woman in the room.”

What a beautiful thing for a daughter to be able to say.

But what can we all do to create the same sense of love and belonging as he did?

I love birthday parties where we all gather in a circle and take turns sharing what we love about the birthday person.

Sometimes, a birthday gift is a remodeled bathroom, like this son did for his mother.

Usually, he or she is squirming—and I wonder why we are all so uncomfortable with encouragement, as if perfection was needed before we accept that we truly are a blessing in so many ways.

We usually hear most of the good about someone at their memorial service when they are no longer there to hear it. There’s not a person on earth who doesn’t need to know they are needed, loved, and valued while they’re living.

It hit me, this thing of living as if we were dying. Someday, I’ll be in the grave. I have four children, too.

I bought a house yesterday, then called my oldest daughter last night to check in on her. A mother’s nest is never empty, even after her babies have flown. “What are you doing this weekend, and do you want to join the other kids and I to have dinner at the new house, and just hang out there together?”

She jumped on it. And I remembered a week prior that she’d asked me to please invite her to do things with us. I’d been a little surprised because I thought she knew how much she was loved and wanted in this family—by her mother, especially.

I agreed quickly. She was twenty years old, and I wanted my ceiling to be her floor. If she never had another woman wanting her to pass her up and go far beyond, she’d have that from her mother. And I always wanted her around. But, she needed to hear it.

The man who passed away had been able to travel and do expensive things, but I’m a single mom. Often, as I’m working, I open Instagram to see my friends flying to other places of the world with their husbands, relaxing by turquoise colored waters with a margarita in hand. Sometimes they’re surrounded by happy children—and I think of my own, and how I want to give them all the above, too.

I may not be flying to the Bahamas, but I can order pizza and gather my kids into the new kitchen that’s actually 118 years old. I won’t hear my daughter express excitement over flying to Europe, but I’ll hear her say, “I can bring my own children to this house someday” and I realize that creating home for children even after they’re adults is far more meaningful than being able to fly to another country for a week or two.

We’ll always look back and laugh over the days we drove six hours in one day to have about the same amount of time at Wilmington Beach. How we’d pack sandwiches so we wouldn’t have to buy coastal food, and how we’d head three hours home when we wanted to head to the closest hotel room over looking white sand and crashing blue waves.

We won’t be sinking into soft white pillows to the sound of waves; we’ll be driving through the sunset with sand between our toes and the younger kids falling asleep brown from the sun and stomachs full of ice cream because we decided to spend at least a little bit of money that day.

What will matter is that we gathered, we laughed, we expressed appreciation for each other. And here’s the thing, mamas out there—your sixteen year old may gripe about the food in your pantry but when she’s twenty, she’ll re-word her complaints into “I can’t believe I used to gripe about your food, mom. You bought food for four children and I’m just feeding myself.”

Parents, don’t compare yourselves to others who can do more. Like Mary did when she poured ointment on Jesus’ feet, let’s do what we can with what we have. When Mary was criticized and told she should have done something different with her oil, Jesus told the critics to leave her alone, and said, “She has done what she could.” (Mark 14:8)

Some of us don’t do what we can do because we’re focused on what we can’t do. I want us to live fully and take what we have with both hands, hold it, ponder it, and then give it out—first of all to our families, then to those around us.

Let’s live as if we’re dying—because one day, our tongues will be silent and our hands will be still.

I want us to gather as if tomorrow was the last day we were able to see others.

I want us to steer conversations into words of life that give grace to those who hear them.

I want us to live FORWARD because we know the Father of mercies, the God of comfort, and the Spirit of healing and hope.

Let’s not wait for a memorial service to express appreciation for each other; let’s live as if we are going to die.

Because we often say, “I’d be willing to die for you.” Can we say with equal confidence “I’m going to live for you”?

Because only in living well can we die well. And only in dying to ourselves, can we truly live.

“Except a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” John 12:24, ESV