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~ Written by Cassie Rayl

I’ve experienced seasons which left me seemingly drowning in hopelessness. I knew my Savior was Jesus Christ. I knew my eternity was secure in Him. I knew the Truth of the Gospel. But despite that knowledge, I felt weighed down, pointless and distraught. I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Those were not fun times. They aren’t necessarily seasons I enjoy remembering. However, I still find myself wandering back to those memories and pondering what I learned despite my less-than-desirable emotions and circumstances.

The reality was, my hopeless, and seemingly pointless, season taught me to fall to my knees. The anguish in my heart forced me to not only darken the door of the Throne Room, but to run and fall into the arms of my Heavenly Father. In those seasons of hopelessness, I needed my Creator-Savior in a way I rarely had before.

It’s because of such intimate moments with God that I’ve learned to treasure those hurtful and heartbreaking seasons. I may have lost almost everything I held dear, but I gained the sweetest intimacy of all. I gained a deeper understanding of the faithfulness of Christ. 

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~ Written by Viki Rife

It’s time to speak up about fathers. Our society has become increasing hostile to the role of fathers in the family. Movies and sitcoms portray fathers as more of a hindrance than a help to their families. The concept of an absentee or clueless father seems to be the norm today.

As strong women who live by God’s values, we can have a part in helping our men reclaim their place in the family. This is not accomplished by reminding them of their failures.

Instead, we need to treat them with respect and consideration, and model for our children and grandchildren the importance we attach to their role. We need to affirm their strengths and their wise choices. Our support of dads can free our men to receive with joy the responsibility God has placed on them as fathers. 

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~ Written by Viki Rife 

It happened during Christmas break from college my freshman year. During the break between Sunday School and church I stopped at the bathroom. I heard a mom bring her preschooler into the next stall. The youngster asked a question that had apparently been triggered by something he had heard in his children’s class. I held my breath. It was a tricky question. I felt sorry for the mother.

While I don’t remember the question any more, or what she said, I remember thinking, “Wow, you really need to know your theology to be a mom!” It awakened in me a desire to dig into God’s Word so that someday I would be a wise mom who knew how to take advantage of her child’s curiosity to point them to God’s truth.

I don’t think that mom knew how important her child’s question was, not just for him, but for a shy college student in the next stall. Her biblical perspective inspires me to this day. Thank you, dear friend—you never volunteered to be my mentor, but you are!

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Cassie and PeterCassie Harris, our blog coordinator, has had quite a bit of excitement in her life the past couple of weeks.

Twelve years ago, as a young teen facing major brain surgery to control epileptic seizures, Cassie was told she might not be able to graduate high school. Yet on Saturday, May 13, she graduated from Grace College with a double major in Journalism and Biblical Studies. This past Saturday, May 20, she married her college sweetheart, Peter Rayl. We at Women of Grace USA are delighted to have had a part in the amazing story of what God has done in her life. We are looking forward to welcoming Cassie Rayl back to the blog in a few weeks.

The amazing miracle God has done in Cassie’s life was recently described in the GraceConnect newsletter. Click here to read it.

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The impossible stain

by Viki Rife

It was so frustrating! Apparently overnight our relatively new faucet had developed some kind of water stain that looked terrible. After much scrubbing, I realized it was hopeless. There could be no doubt the stain was permanent.

Sighing, I put on my reading glasses for a closer look. Suddenly I burst out laughing! The faucet was reflecting the paisley shirt I was wearing! There was no stain there.

It set me thinking about how quick I am to see my own faults in others and try to correct them. I need to make sure I look at people through God’s lens. It will help me recognize where the real problem lies before I scrub away at others.

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~ Written by Sharon MacMillan 

If there were ducks to be placed in a row, they would be fluttering in all directions. My husband and I feel like we are in a Stage Nine hurricane. Circumstances around us are blowing out of control. We’re trying to finish study projects. Fix up our home to sell. Move to Texas in May so I can get to Japan by June to help my son’s family welcome their twins. I catch my frenetic self over-thinking how to solve things, only to be set back to where I started. I feel like I’m lying face down in the mud, like a storm-blown fence, waiting for someone to help me up so I can move on to the next set of circumstances.

Then I remember to whom I belong. I am the daughter of the Almighty God, the Master Builder, the Perfect Manager of everything. I go into His presence a bit shy for being so slow to turn my mess over to Him. But I don’t find condemnation or see a finger pointing. I see arms that welcome me in. His presence is the place of peace, safety, security, and help. What was I thinking, trying to manage life without Him?

Then I realize He’s arranged my hurricane so I would come to Him. He wants to teach me something from his treasure box of riches. His Word reads, “I will bless the Lord who has given me counsel, my heart instructs me in the night seasons. I have set the Lord before me because He is at my right hand, I shall not be moved.”

My heart feels the warmth of His love. I read on. “You will show me the path of life; in your presence is fullness of joy. At your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

God is delighted and honored as I answer those who say, “How did you get through all those circumstances?” I tell them, “It was the Perfect Manager who helped us. He’s known for doing all things well.” 

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~ Written by Pat Ashcraft

Barbara was the youngest of four children. Born in the early 1920’s, she lived through the depression. When she was seven, her mother died and she was raised by her dad and grandmother. She later met and married Bob Mason; together they had five children in six years. Their first child died at childbirth.

Barbara was very intelligent, funny, and outgoing. Everywhere she went, she was the life of the party. She was a good mother, wife, friend and neighbor. At the age of 33, after several years of problems, Barbara was hospitalized for the first time for bipolar disorder.

I know all this about Barbara because she was my mother. I am the youngest of her children.

My mother’s life and our family were greatly affected by her illness. In our house growing up, we never used the words “mental illness.” Our dad would just say, “your mom is sick, try to help out more.” We were all adults before we knew what her diagnosis was. We never discussed with anyone else that our mother was mentally ill.

My oldest sister took over running the household. My next sister took care of mom but also learned to cook at a young age. My brother coped by ignoring everything and keeping busy outside the home. I was the “baby” and was cared for and protected by the older kids. I probably had the most normal childhood, as I was allowed to be a child and not take on adult duties.

All of us had various issues that affected our schooling. It wasn’t until 12th grade that anyone asked me if there were problems at home. Even then, I didn’t tell the principal that life was a total upheaval at times because of my mother. At that point, I was soon going to graduate and leave home, so it seemed like a moot point.

When I was 16 years old, my mother was having a very bad manic episode. She hadn’t slept or eaten or stopped talking for about five days. She was totally confused. She would pick fights over the smallest things. We were all exhausted.

My dad decided to put her in the car and drive her to the hospital. She knew that meant another stay in the psychiatric ward and didn’t want to go. I was helping my dad get her shoes and socks on and helping with her coat. She was fighting us every step of the way. I was thoroughly disgusted with my mom. I had had enough of her and all we had to live with. I was tired and angry that I didn’t have a “normal” mom. I said to my dad, “How can you stand this?” He stopped what he was doing, looked at me and said, “I don’t ‘stand’ anything. I love your mother. And when you love someone, you take care of them. Don’t you ever say anything like that about your mother again.” Wow, what a lesson in love.

When my mother was at her worst, her least attractive and most difficult to deal with, my dad chose to love her. What a picture of God’s love for me! When I was at my worst, ugly from sin and full of pride, God chose to love me. He sent His only Son to save me. That’s unconditional love at its best!  

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