Life with Kids

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Finding Light in Everyday Moments

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She teaches me daily. Since day 1, she has been our sunshine-seeker. She has always quietly embraced transition with an ease I sometimes envy. And she loves wholeheartedly. I remember one blustery winter morning in VT. These were the kinds of mornings when all you really wanted was a day in bed. You woke up with frigid fingers and toes, even beneath a bundle of blankets, and the responsibilities of the day squashed any attempt to burrow. I was barely waking up to this sensation when her tiny frame wandered into my bedroom.

“I can’t find it, mama”, this little voice beckoned to my sleepily. There was an urgency in her tone despite the drowsy hour. After a series of questions and–eventually–my departure from the pursuit of warmth, I realized that she was searching for the sun. It was a cold day in every sense of the word, and the sunshine—her favorite friend—was hiding behind snow clouds. She was devastated. Little fingers fumbled over my curtains as she desperately tried to roll them higher because “maybe he’s just hiding”. But he did not [and would not] emerge for quite some time. Her faith that the sunshine would appear still, never waned.

This is how she has always been. She’s my encourager when she senses spirits are low, a peacemaker when there is familial tension, and a hugger when the need arises(and sometimes even when the need isn’t fully realized to everyone else).

In her bitty years, this looked like sun-searching and big, wet kisses. And now in this season, it’s deeper. She gives everything in everything–the way she loves, friendship, a task, habits…everything. Sometimes this means that something with which she’s become so familiar(like sucking her thumb) is harder to break. But even then, her optimism doesn’t fade. She’s bright, cheerful and fighting to believe the best.

Recently, I’ve seen glimmers of spiritual depth. She has always been my caring, compassionate one. Often quick to step in with a hopeful solution or comment, she believes wholeheartedly. And I’m thankful I get to watch that develop as she grows. I can mark this by several new data points:

A few months ago, we attended the funeral of a precious friend. This was her first, and she wondered aloud what was to be expected and what behavior might be appropriate. We talked at length, and when we were finally there, I was blown away. In the flurry of my own responsibilities, seeking to interact with others, cleaning when needed, leading singing, etc, I hadn’t heard how the day was going for my children. Later, I was approached by the daughter of our recently deceased friend who shared that speaking with our daughter was a needed balm; a highlight of the day. When I shared the story at home, she remarked that she “just walked around talking to people”.

“I went up to folks and said, ‘hi’. My name is _____. What’s yours?”

A few nights ago, I took two of my daughters to the theatre. We learned that the main character was struggling vocally, and so we prayed. Afterward, when he was standing alone as other cast members were shining with excitement, my sunshine-seeker walked up to him alongside a friend and made a point to tell him, “you did a great job”.

And finally, today. You somehow learned that we have new neighbors with a little girl about your age, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when she rang our doorbell asking for you. All afternoon you played only to wander back inside a after a little while. You were–again–searching. When I inquired, you mentioned a Bible, because “I want to tell her the Easter story”.

My darling girl, your courage to look for the light has always taken my breath away. It is foreign to me—your relentless tenacity towards hope. I pray that the Father uses this to protect and preserve you, no matter what the season. You shine so brightly, and I cannot wait to watch how God continues to work.

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When I Am Afraid: Lessons from my Daughter [Psalm 56]

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“Mama, I had another bad dream. But I didn’t want to wake you because I know how hard you work and how badly you need sleep”

This was a recent comment from one of my daughters after another hard night. I have always encouraged all of my children to come—whenever—to my bedside. But this daughter–often the one who doesn’t want to inconvenience or burden others–did not come. At first, I felt sad. I wanted her to know that no time was an inconvenience. But when she mentioned that she had prayed and fallen asleep[probably nestled underneath one of her favorite books]I knew she was OK. Two things occurred to me in that moment:

  1. I’m thankful she didn’t come to me first.
  2. Trust is a discipline.

In our world today, fear is on trend. Especially in the midst of an election season and an ever-shifting culture, one has reason to feel unsteady. There are wars and rumors of wars, floods, riots, death…Not to mention the regularly unwholesome discourse I’ve seen on social media. The world is fragile, broken and deteriorating right before our eyes. Of course there is cause for fear!

In Psalm 56:1 David cries out, Be gracious to me, O God, for man tramples on me; all day long an attacker oppresses me; my enemies trample on me all day long, for many attack me proudly.

At first glance, this sounds hopeless. David, the anointed king of Israel is on the run from a man who desires his death. He has fled to a Philistine king in hopes of finding refuge, but quickly realizes that this king knows his true identity. His only defense at this point is to fake madness, “making marks on the door and letting saliva run down his beard” 1 Samuel 21:15)

And the Philistines–usually described as an aggressive, war-mongering people–were evil. So when David speaks of being attacked and trampled by many enemies, he wasn’t exaggerating!

But the text doesn’t stop there. God, in his kindness, has given us more:

When I am afraid,I put my trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid. What can flesh do to me?

Psalm 56:2

Immediately, there is a transition. It is as if David knows he could spiral[to use popular verbiage] so he must discipline his mind[and therefore, speech].

John MacArthur says it this way,

This psalm expresses the kind of confidence in the Lord that believers should exude when they find themselves in terrifying circumstances. David’s natural reaction was to panic(vv. 3, 4, 11). But he demonstrates in this psalm that the believer can replace potential terror with the composure of trust.

MacArthur Bible Commentary

But in verses 5-7, it’s as if David returns to the panic.

All day long they injure my cause; all their thoughts are against me for evil. They stir up strife, they lurk; they watch my steps as they have waited for my life. For their crime, will they escape? In wrath, cast down the peoples O God!

What is he saying here? He has gone from reciting truth to reflecting on his terrors; on his enemies! And what fruit has this reflection produced? Anxiety. Worry. A desire for vengeance.

In short: nothing good.

Are you tired yet? Just reading David’s struggle[quite literally] for sanity leaves me feeling weary.

Haven’t we all been here before? Haven’t we wrestled with our thoughts, circumstances and feelings until we’re absolutely listless. Until we are weary and ragged and not even sleep restores?

David doesn’t stay here, though. He recounts God’s specific goodness– that He has kept count of his tossings and tears. He remembers he isn’t isolated.

David then moves into a posture of remembering truth, and cultivating praise and thanksgiving. Herein lies this discipline of trust(vv. 10-13)–

In God, whose word I praise, in the Lord, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid. What can man do to me? I must perform my vows to you, O God; I will render thank offerings to you. For you have delivered my soul from death, yes my feet from falling, that I may walk before God in the light of my life.

I’m encouraged that David faced terror, too. He knew danger. He wrestled often with the threat of hunger, attacks, betrayal, mutilation, abuse, etc…sometimes to the point of death. In some seasons, David could have been tempted to live in fear. David was human, too. And there were times when he doubted the very nature of the God to whom his heart was knit.

But the Lord gave David three mercies in the midst of this suffering:

  1. His presence
  2. courage to carry on
  3. A malleable, yet disciplined heart

Number 1 is obvious, isn’t it? David is groaning before the Lord. Right at the beginning, David approaches God with questions and complaints. He has raw honesty. He is crippled with anxiety.

And David does not wallow. He recalls truth:

  • The Lord knows my suffering(v. 8)
  • The Lord will have vengeance(v. 9)
  • The Lord is for me(v. 9b)
  • I have been delivered from eternal death(v. 13)

What’s the common thread? THE LORD.

David shifts his focus. And this shift produces heart change:

  • praise(v.10)
  • trust(v.11)
  • courage (v.11)
  • thankfulness(v. 12)

Yes, I have felt fear so intense that it threatens to consume my being. But the glorious truth about scripture is it’s sufficiency. We can always go to God and to His word knowing that we will find truth and hope. And scripture so rightly informs our minds that we are not left disparaging.

So even though I was initially saddened by my daughter’s hesitance, I’m thankful she went to the Father. I’m grateful she certainly has come to me on other occasions. But the sobering truth is I won’t always be around. My prayer is that the Eternal God would be the refuge(Deut. 33:27) to which she does run.

And I pray that she trusts God and his word so desperately that she knows how to respond when the harder days come.

They Went to the Beach.

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Back in October, my extended family left for our annual family vacation. This is a trip in which I have not participated for the last 8ish years, and somehow–that week–not being there felt different. In some ways I felt the same familiar ache of living so far away, but in others there was a decided resolve in it. A resolve that [despite my deepest heart yearnings to be with those who loved me first] I would not wallow, but would instead choose to be present.

I realize that this may sound trite or over-popularized. One night during that week, I was invited into several different scenarios and thus felt torn in many directions. But there was[for reasons I can’t explain] an echo of that same longing I knew too well and had battled continually. I wanted nearness. I wanted familial intimacy. I wanted to remember the warmth of being known and loved, no matter what. I desperately wanted to be in multiple places, but I knew that they needed me. They being my precious ones. Daddy was out of town, and I sensed this rare opportunity to just be with them.

Also during that beach week—while my family was far away, I felt the pressure of being home–the constant need to be doing dishes, laundry, cooking meals…not to mention investing emotionally, spiritually and physically in the lives of my little tribe[including nurturing littles who need thoughtful, biblical redirection hourly…sometimes moment-by-moment!]…Some days I do feel weary…and often over-stimulated to a sinful point. But I set apart this day–amidst my own personal weariness–to cherish them.

So we went to the movies. Since there are 6 members of our family, this is a rare occurrence. At home in our daily mundane, I saw my own familiar ache in their little eyes and heard it in countless moments of frustration. Getting out of the house just made sense. So we did it. We journeyed over an hour’s length to see a special movie unavailable in our area, and enjoyed popcorn and candy while lounging in reclining movie seats[a luxury in and of itself]. It was loud and a little chaotic, but joyfully so. My littlest bounced up and down in the seat and eventually landed in my arms, my son grinned from ear to ear providing colorful commentary(which worked better since few others were seated among us) and my big girls beamed. Afterwards we indulged in Chik-fil-a[a personal favorite, though not all of my babes share my enthusiasm].

There was something sacred in it, I think. Not in the movie or the fried chicken. But in the prompt to seize the hours. Because for the first time in a long time, I didn’t concern myself with chores or the daily to-do list. I didn’t worry about what wasn’t accomplished or our present messiness.  I just enjoyed them. We just enjoyed each other, in fact.

This was a needed reminder to me of Zephaniah’s words in chapter 3:

The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.

Zephaniah 3:17

Although these words were written to the people of Judah, the beauty of the Word is it’s accuracy, relevance and reliability. The Lord’s authoritative voice is just as true and definitive as it was then.

In the busyness of motherhood, I often forget to delight. But the Lord–in His holy perfection–does not. Somehow He simultaneously upholds and rules while also harboring an intimate knowledge of his beloved. And so–in the same vein that He is both concerned and connected with all of my needs, longings and shortcoming–He is also just enjoying me. What’s more, he is singing[some versions add loudly] over me!

These precious ones are growing so quickly. And this day back in October was ordinary–like most of my days–but the Lord used those mundane moments to bring me[yet again] to recall His goodness and the personal call to reflect upon the sweetness in watching how He redeems ordinary.

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The End of All Things

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Recently, I was asked if we plan to homeschool long-term. A dear friend was wondering if I had considered the future and what home education might look like in the middle-teenage years.

My honest answer was that I don’t know. I prayerfully reassess every year, based on each individual child, the needs of our family, time, schedules, my emotional capacity, etc. And so every year I move remembering the Lord’s “precious and very great promises”(2 Peter 1:3) to me in His word, and soldier on—whatever the choice may be. And every year, we laugh, cry, and grow—in every way.

My personality makes no allowances(in my flesh) for risks. I do not like them; I would rather know the outcome. So choosing to educate my children has always been in faith. And God, in His mercy, brings fruit(1 Corinthians 3:6-8).

I am certainly no homeschool only advocate. I have learned[through my own errors] that projecting your convictions on others can be detrimental relationally. But I am an advocate for living out biblical conviction, and I recognize that it manifests differently based on circumstances/seasons/family ideals/location/etc. I could count the ways I’ve been enriched through our journey, but I think that says less about our personal choice and speaks more to the faithfulness of a Sovereign God(Col. 1)

Over the last year, in our journey with one of the children, I had become discouraged regarding progress. I wondered(as I often do) if this child was excelling or “on track”. This stems from my toxic trait of falling into a comparison “trap” with others.

But this morning, over family devotions at the breakfast table, I was reminded of the end of all things. We had just read aloud the words of David in Psalm 37, and my instructions were to pick a verse that stood out. I laughed internally thinking no one heard or understood a word I said. But then that same child for whom I have labored in prayer and concern to the Lord, jolted out of her seat and began pacing around the room, clearly mid-hunt. I waited and watched, then inquired gently,

How can I help?

Paper. Was all I heard. I need paper.

I gathered the materials she needed[pens, and scissors, too] and observed.

Of course her paper was shielded as she tuned out the chaos of morning breakfast and wrote with fierce concentration.

When she finished moments later, I gazed upon her work.

It was a slip of paper, cut out with the words:


I have been young, and now am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken

It wasn’t textbook “perfect”. But in the midst of a very loud, distracting moment, these words enlightened her heart. She wanted to hang them up so we could memorize them over the week and look at them every day.

I couldn’t help but consider Peter’s words:

“The end of all things is near; therefore, be of sound judgment and sober spirit for the purpose of prayer. Above all, keep fervent in your love for one another, because love covers a multitude of sins. Be hospitable to one another without complaint. As each one has received a special gift, employ it in serving one another as good stewards of the multifaceted grace of God. Whoever speaks is to do so as one who is speaking actual words of God; whoever serves is to do so as one who is serving by the strength which God supplies; so that in all things God may be glorified through Jesus Christ, to whom belongs the glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.”
‭‭1 Peter‬ ‭4‬:‭7‬-‭11‬ ‭NASB2020‬‬

My prayer for all of my children is that they might grow in the love and knowledge of the Lord. That they might serve wholeheartedly, living in light of the Gospel of grace.

Because the end of all things is not academic excellence[though I know that is important in its context and should not be ignored].

The end of all things is knowing Christ.

Peter wrote these words at the end of a life marked by steadfast[though imperfect] service to the Father. He had known betrayal(of his own accord and by the disloyalty of others), physical and emotional suffering, and imprisonment. He knew his end was near. And appropriately, some of his final words to the dear believers in exile included a charge to endure to the end. A

And admittedly—beneath all of my anxieties and fearful wonderings—that is my prayer. I desperately desire that my girl—and all of my little ones—will endure faithfully in the end and to the end[when God-willing, they will run into the arms of the One for whom they’ve struggled tearfully and faithfully all along].

I routinely doubt myself-as a wife, mama, educator, counselor, etc. This is particularly felt in the realm of home education. Most days I feel very ill-equipped. And I do wonder if what we’ve chosen in faith is right or best.

But that’s just it, isn’t it?

Whatever we choose, we do it in faith. We do it trusting the perfect provision of our Lord(Phil. 4:19), remembering those precious treasures in scripture we’ve clung tightly to for so long. We do it because the Unchanging, mighty God holds us fast. We do it because we know that at the end of all things to live faithfully for the glory of God and by His grace is our best expression of worship. He has given us His very son, and so at the very least, we must surrender every mundane moment. We can choose to see Him in it in gratitude and in worship.

| S E R V A N T |

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I haven’t said much about our time in Maine here because these last two weeks have been busy! Our days are filled with unpacking, picnic playdates at the park, exploring our neighborhood, etc. Of course my sweet littles are processing still—which sometimes looks like bickering, outbursts of tears, silly moods, needing more “mommy time” or anything in between. We have tried to shepherd their hearts tenderly(with the help of so many precious new friends and MUCH prayer) but some days I’m tired!

This last week a new friend recommended “couch time” every morning. It’s where we sing, read(about cultures, poets, authors), recite and learn. It is simply a time to sit together in stillness and absorb before we dive into the chaos of the day.

This past week we’ve discussed Philippians 2 and the idea of serving like Jesus. We’ve made a game of yelling, “servant alert” every time we see(which delights our littles to no end)!

Today—when my middle girl and I had to miss corporate worship because our sweet boy has a cold, we were disappointed. I was here at the house with three under 4 who sorrowfully watched their big sis walk to the church(which is right across our backyard) with tearful eyes.

Throughout the morning I took the opportunity to catch up on housework. It’s sometimes easier for me to busy myself if I’m feeling particularly down. I tried hard to keep things lighthearted in the midst of missing fellowship. But my middle must’ve known, because she stayed in her room boasting of “surprises” and “don’t come in, Mommy”! I figured maybe she was creating a new look with her dress-up clothes ☺️

But…

as she led me to her room—eyes bright and shimmering— I couldn’t believe what I saw. We stood there together as she whispered, “I cleaned it, Mama”.
And no, it’s not perfect. But it’s her best. As I verbally took in every detail, she beamed.

Mamas, the Lord knows our hearts. He knows our deepest needs and desires. In the weary moments when I’m wondering if any effort I make will bear fruit, the Lord graciously bears me up with the promise that nothing done in His name is in vain.

1 Thessalonians 15:58

Welcome to December 2021

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This year I wondered if our annual “Welcome to December” brunch would even happen. I was 1 week postpartum and very deprived of sleep.

But I couldn’t let the first week of the month pass without ringing in the season! So…we opted for an afternoon tea party instead.

Thankfully, my sweet mom was still here to help! Instead of breakfast cinnamon rolls, I rolled triangled crescents in sweetened cream cheese and chocolate chips. We made a Christmas tree out of our delicious concoction and the kids inhaled it!

Dusted with powdered sugar [read: snow] of course!

Coupled with hot chocolate in our favorite Christmas tree pitcher, a pair of matching fleece pajamas(with an additional matching set for their dolls)—it was a sweet time together.

While the kids munched on goodies, I read two of my favorite Christmas books.

This year’s picks were…

The Spirit of Christmas has beautifully illustrated the wonder of the season. Nancy Tillman has written several of my favorites, and she has such an artful way of capturing whimsy while also pointing back to its Creator. The girls loved this one.

The Crippled Lamb is a spin on the original Christmas narrative. Children are invited to follow the journey of a lamb named Joshua who isn’t the most beloved in the herd(due to his disability) but ultimately realizes what a blessing he can be, just the way God made him! This one provides a great opportunity to talk about how differences from God are good because He intended them that way! It’s a sweet reminder that everyone is “Gods workmanship, created in Christ to do good works which God prepared in advance that they should do”!

Of course we ended our time talking about the reason for the season—Jesus! We discussed how this entire month is a birthday party for Him! That everything we do—hanging lights, decorations, giving gifts, etc—is in celebration of the Incarnation!

Happy Christmas, friends 🎄

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In This Job

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I often forget that this is the dream. In those long, awkward teen years, when I wondered if a boy would ever notice me, this is the man I prayed for.

And on the hectic, stifling college days when my dorm suite kitchen squeezed me in, this was the house I imagined.

It was enough for me to dream, to hope—to pray—that this would be my one day.

Of course those days were tearfully joyful and sorrowful with every emotion mixed in-between. It is not lost on me that the days of my youth were a sweet symbol of a season that will never again be.

But this life…this was the beginning of forever. It was my impossible prayer, my pipe dream; the dream within the dream.

So why then does my heart so easily forget?

And once again, Jeremiah’s warning that the heart is deceitful cautions my wayward heart…

They won’t be little forever, reminds my husband lovingly. And while he is right, sometimes—lately especially—this heart forgets. I become enraptured with other seemingly lofty thoughts—or even new dreams that have skewed my perspective. The caveat here is, naturally, that dreams aren’t necessarily destructive. But my placement of these dreams is.

This job has been given to me to do. Therefore, it is a gift. Therefore, it is a privilege. Therefore, it is an offering I may make to God. Therefore, it is to be done gladly, if it is done for Him. Here, not somewhere else, I may learn God’s way. In this job, not in some other, God looks for faithfulness.

Elisabeth Elliot

For me, this is the job. I could pursue more if God allowed but for this season, I am home. If I’m being honest, some days I wrestle with the calling. Of course I have career goals, and my days don’t always feel the most stimulating, but they are good because their Author is. And even when I’m feeling the moments are wasted [which is a lie permeating my thoughts all too often] there is so much joy in this quiet life. All of the sweaty kisses, carefully curated dress up shows, nighttime rocking rituals coupled with hymns and laughter, foraging adventures, tree excursions and every moment in between and thereafter. For now—for always—instead of a forgetful [read: discontented] spirit I can choose gratitude.

It is here, and not somewhere else, that I may learn faithfulness.

Oh Father, may my fickle heart ever treasure the beauty of these sacred, fleeting moments!

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Because He is My Father

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It isn’t lost on me that he was always there—for every performance, game and ceremony…not to mention all of the little moments in between. He was present. And usually my biggest cheerleader. When no one stepped up to coach my basketball team, he did it. When I needed a last minute-run to the store for hairspray–he made it. If I needed anything–prayer, wise counsel, encouragement–he was there. Not because he wanted to be my favorite parent, or the “cool dad”, but because he had committed long before I was even born to love me.

There’s a story I like to tell my daughters about this kind of love. As a child I grew accustomed to walking through tall, dew-kissed blades of grass to his office. It was a a couple hundred feet away, and with every step my heart leaped at the thought of a big mid-morning hug, and [possibly] a treat from the giant glass jar on his desk. But the walk wasn’t without turmoil–for there were stickers littering the path. Of course I didn’t mind because I get to see Daddy, but it was mildly painful, and my blood-splotched toes were evidence of this.

It is always at this point in the story when my daughters, wide-eyed, glance up asking–Mama, what did you DO? This is when I respond that I did nothing. But my daddy–their Papa–did. He carefully wrapped my feet in sheets of snow white printer paper–the durable, crisp kind that isn’t easily torn–taping along the edges. That always ensured my safe, scar-free return. And it made me feel more special than anyone on earth.

I could recall countless stories like this–when he thoughtfully considered my needs before his own; planning and prayerfully counting the cost. He placed–more often than not–the needs of others before his own. He did it joyfully in my foundational years, and it is with a heart swollen with gratitude that I recount the moments.

Even now, as a young mom of 3 thousands of miles from home, I have watched how he and my mother have taken strains to provide seasons of respite[through family vacation, time away with my husband, or caring for our littles so I can recharge]. I can think of numerous times when both of my parents sacrificed to make our lives more fun and comfortable, even if that meant they themselves were lacking. And I can’t help but wonder if that would have happened without my father’s tender, yet strong hand to lead our family. He modeled gracious living—giving of oneself constantly that others might be nourished–so well, and He continues building upon that legacy even now.

Susannah Spurgeon once wrote of a father’s love,

What little one is afraid to run to a loving father and ask for all it wants? Never a doubt rises in a child’s mind as to the supply of all his needs, and the direction of all that concerns him. The child has positively no care for the present, no thought for tomorrow, no fears for the past. Father knows everything. Father can do everything. Father provides everything. In fact, father loves.

Free Grace & Dying Love

I am grateful because I knew this love, and it continues even now. But I have seen the brokenness of this world. I have heard the stories of friends, and I would be remiss if I failed to mention the harsh reality that the word father stirs tangled emotions for some. This grieves my heart more than I can say. The fallen world has stained things meant to be wholly true, lovely, pure, excellent and praiseworthy. I have seen this within my own circumstances at times. However, we are not without hope. I know this because I have a father who–in his own imperfections–faithfully pointed me to it. He knew that as my earthly father, his failings would be many(although I can’t think of any at present). But he also knew the only One who is entirely good, strong and kind. At every point–in conversation, voicemails, prayers, letters–my father’s eyes were fixed on the Father. When my sensitivities planted seeds of doubt within my own heart, my daddy was there to remind me of truth. Not because he was a perfect man, but because he served the Perfect Father.

Spurgeon continues,

O my soul, can you for a moment imagine what it would be of joy, and rest, and peace, to live out day by day such a child-life love of the Father? He knows you altogether. He understands all of your individual peculiarities, sees your weakness and sinfulness, your sore temptations, perplexities and daily shortcomings; but he loves you notwithstanding all, not for any merit or worthiness in you, but because you are his child. You have believed on his dear Son, whom he gave to die for your sins; you have accepted his complete salvation, you have received the Spirit of adoption, and now with confidence and perfect trust, you can look up to him and say, ‘Abba Father’. And does this not suffice to make you absolutely ‘without carefulness’, like a little child?

Free Grace & Dying Love

And so on this Father’s Day, I am humbled to be loved by a father who showed me the Father through unconditional love, unending sacrifice and tender care.

Whatever this day conjures within, there is peace in remembering Paul’s words to the Romans:

What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us. He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? For I am sure that neither death nor life, neither angels nor rulers, nor things present or things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. 

Romans 8:32,38-39