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Lois Flowers

An Analogy that Helps Us Love Our Spiritual Siblings

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

Inside: We don’t get to choose our Christian brothers and sisters, but our heavenly Father still asks us to be patient with each other and kind to one another. ~

When my daughter Molly was in fourth grade, I went to her school once a week to have lunch with her. The friend she usually chose to sit with us at the parent table would often ask me the same question.

“Are Lilly and Molly sisters?”

Patiently I would explain my daughters were born at different times and in different places in China, but they are sisters now. My words seemed to satisfy her, at least until the next time I came for lunch.

The fact of the matter is that Lilly and Molly are sisters because they have the same set of parents—me and Randy. They did nothing to become sisters. But because we adopted both of them, that’s what they are.

All I Know

Adoption is the only path toward parenthood I’ve experienced, and I can’t imagine my family any other way. I know the scriptures contain weighty spiritual metaphors relating to adoption, but I don’t feel like I have any greater insight into how all that works because I am an adoptive mom.

How God chooses and calls the children who end up in His family is a mystery to me. I do know this, however. We are God’s children because He is our Father. Not because of anything we did or anything we brought to the relationship.

He adopted us into His family because He loved us first.

Randy and I did a lot to become Lilly and Molly’s parents—filled out piles of paperwork, paid many fees, spent years waiting. But God did exponentially more to provide a way for us to become His children.

Forever Family

When we accept His gift of salvation, available to us through Jesus’ death on the cross, we become part of His eternal family. But, like Lilly and Molly when they joined our family, we don’t get to choose our spiritual siblings.

My girls have always been close, but even as young adults, they go through their cantankerous phases. When they’re busy pushing each other’s buttons or getting annoyed at each other, I have a simple response.

“Be nice to each your sister,” I’ll say. “She’s the only one you have.”

Timely Spiritual Analogy

Perhaps there’s a spiritual analogy here as well, one that is especially relevant today. As Christians, we sometimes go through phases where we don’t like each other very much. We may disagree with each other, annoy each other or judge each other unfairly.

We may be as different from our fellow believers as my daughters are from each other. We may think we have absolutely nothing in common (apart from the gift of grace we’ve all received), and maybe we are right.

But our heavenly Father still calls us to be patient with each other. To be kind to one another. To look out for each other’s best interests, even ahead of our own.

This is how people know we are His children—by the way we love our brothers and sisters.

♥ Lois

We are God’s children because He is our Father. Not because of anything we did or anything we brought to the relationship. Share on X We may be as different from our fellow believers as my daughters are from each other. But our heavenly Father still calls us to be patient with each other and kind to one another. Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.

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Learning to Adjust to an Unexpected and Hard Change

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

Inside: I didn’t plan to quit running this year. Then my knee started acting up and I decided the best way forward was on a bike. The switch was more difficult than I imagined it would be, for many reasons. ~

About a year ago, we learned about a massive infrastructure project our city was planning to undertake just down the road from our house.

Aside from some occasional detours, the most significant inconvenience about this project—from my perspective anyway—was that part of the trail I had run on since 2020 would be closed and I’d need to find a new route.

I wasn’t really looking forward to this, but I knew it was coming. What I didn’t expect was to stop running altogether.

When Spring Arrived …

I started envisioning potential new routes and even considered taking some practice runs to find an equivalent distance. Then, a few weeks before the heavy equipment started rolling into the neighborhood, my knee started hurting.

It’s acted up in the past, but the pain always went away after a while. This time was different.

After limping around for a few weeks, I went to the doctor.

Disappointing News

I was hoping for an easy explanation, a shot of something that would put me out on the trail again in no time flat. The PA looked at the X-ray and listened to me talk about how much I enjoyed running. Then she gave me a healthy dose of reality.

“A knee replacement is in your future, and it’s going to be lifechanging,” she said bluntly.

She meant the bone-on-bone arthritis in my knee would get worse, and when I eventually had the knee replaced, I’d have to find a new form of exercise. Either that or run the risk of wearing out the new joint and needing another new one, which wouldn’t work as well as the first replacement.

Now’s the Time

Google revealed a wide range of opinions whether you should run after a knee replacement. In my case, though, genetics spoke louder than the internet.

To date, five of my six siblings have had at least one joint replaced. I’d prefer to put off the apparently inevitable surgery for as long as possible, which meant the time to stop running was now.

I went to physical therapy for several weeks. I dutifully did my assigned exercises at home. I visited to the local bike shop and found a nice used bicycle.

A Difficult Change

It wasn’t physically hard to quit running. I just stopped going outside in the morning.

Emotionally, though, the change was more difficult. I wasn’t expecting the feelings of loss that came with it.

The funny thing is, I never planned to run on the trail in the first place. For years, I read books while I jogged on my treadmill in the basement. It was the perfect setup.

What Happened

Then Lilly wanted me to run outside with her while she was home during the Covid shutdown. And how do you turn down an opportunity to spend time with your daughter who would be leaving for college in a few months?

Although Lilly is a wonderful coach, switching from the treadmill to the trail was one of the most challenging things I’ve ever done, physically. But when she went away to school that fall, I kept after it.

Bit by bit, I went farther and got stronger. Bit by bit, I grew to love it.

And Now, I Miss It

I miss the efficiency of it. I miss how I felt when I was done, the sweat pouring off my face that assured me I was doing something good for my body even if I never seemed to get any faster. I miss running with Lilly when she’s home.

I’ll be honest: Giving up running put me into a funk for a while. I knew I needed to keep moving, but biking was tougher than I expected. I had to figure out a new morning routine. Plus, it didn’t help that my knee still hurt.

That said, I’m not the first person who’s had to adjust to something like this. In the grand scheme of transition and loss, what I was experiencing was minor, to say the least. Eventually, I decided I needed to stop complaining and be thankful instead.

A New Perspective

As I said before, I never expected to start running outside, much less grow to enjoy it. For four years, I had the opportunity to do it. It made me stronger and brought me closer to Lilly.

I’m also grateful for how biking is both stretching and blessing me. I’m learning to navigate around obstacles on the trail and to be on the lookout for what might be coming around the next bend (including oblivious teenagers who remain oblivious even when I’m directly in front of them).

I’m getting used to wind resistance (so much wind resistance!), and to yelling out “on your left”—sometimes multiple times—as I come up behind people jogging or walking their dogs.

I’m starting to recognize other “regulars” on the trail—the older man who walks in dress pants and a button-down shirt, the friendly women with their dogs, the couple on bikes. When we smile and say hello, it makes up for the others who never even look up.

Natural Blessings

There’s birdsong and fall foliage. And then there are the deer. Four or five, grazing in a clearing by the trail. One, right by the path, who stands there watching with big brown eyes as I ride past.

When I was running, I sometimes stopped to take a picture of a beautiful sunrise. Now, even if I were fast enough to retrieve my phone and get a photo of the deer, I don’t even think about it.

I simply enjoy the view.

What’s Next?

I don’t know what I’m going to do this winter. Ride as long as the weather permits, I suppose, and then start walking on the treadmill.

As for my knee, my only sibling who has not had a joint replaced recommended a supplement to try. I started taking it, and happily, my knee feels pretty good.

I don’t know how long this will last, but for now, I’m thankful.

I always wanted to run like the wind. Now I’m riding into the wind. I guess there really is a season for everything.

• • •

Have you ever experienced a relatively minor change that was unexpectedly difficult to adjust to? Please share in the comments. And keep an eye out for a follow-up post about how this change fits into an entire summer of little transitions, and what I’m learning from all of it.

♥ Lois

Giving up running put me into a funk for a while. Eventually, though, I decided I needed to stop complaining and be thankful instead. Share on X I always wanted to run like the wind. Now I’m riding INTO the wind. Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.

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What I Learned Then Still Encourages Me Now

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

Inside: Reading through quarterly “What I Learned” posts brings back poignant memories and highlights realizations that come during hard seasons. ~

Years ago, I wrote a quarterly blog post called What I Learned. It was a great way to look back at the previous season and take stock of the lessons that flowed from whatever was going on at the time.

I stopped doing this in 2020, probably because the blog linkup featuring the same name ended that year. But it’s always interesting to click the link when one of these posts shows up in the Related section at the bottom of my weekly blog.

When I noticed this one recently, I decided to take a deep dive into the whole series. What exactly did I learn over the years? Did those lessons hold up?

Just the Facts

Some of the seasonal takeaways were strictly factual. For example, I learned I have a small head (during Covid, when I struggled mightily to find a mask that fit comfortably).

My daughter Molly and I learned how to make Japanese steamed dumplings (it’s much easier than I thought). I learned about Cicada Killer Wasps (they are as horrifying as they sound), and that Jan Karon started writing the beloved Mitford series when she was 50 years old.

During an especially busy time, I also learned that lists are a great summer blogging strategy. (I wish I would have remembered that this year, but that’s a story for another day.)

Comforting Reminders

As I perused these old posts quarter by quarter, I discovered lessons and memories relating to specific events—some happy, many unexpected and heartbreaking—that reminded me of God’s goodness, faithfulness and sovereignty.

Seasons change, but He does not. It’s a truth that holds us fast, come what may.

This week, I thought it would be fun to share some highlights from these past posts. What I learned from What I Learned, if you will.

The original pieces include additional commentary with each point, but here, I’ll just include the primary takeaways.

Without Further Ado …

• Making progress in one area can help you make progress in others areas.

• It’s OK to abandon unfinished projects.

• If you like blingy shoes, you should buy blingy shoes.

• There’s comfort in order.

• Our happiness should not depend on someone else’s mood.

• When people inspire us, we need to tell them.

• Friendships among people who share a love of books and reading are among the best friendships of all.

• A burden shared is a burden lifted.

• When you have every reason to believe the upcoming season is going to be easy (or at least easier than it was the previous year), don’t hold on to that expectation too tightly.

• As a parent, you stop worrying about making the most of teachable moments when all of life becomes a teachable moment.

• The build-up to a Very Big Thing can seem more stressful, emotional or difficult than the actual thing.

• When you pray and ask God to show you what you need to see, He does.

• When you’re all out of words, it’s OK not to say anything at all.

• Understanding from someone who was once where you are is a rare and precious gift.

• • •

There you have it—what I learned from What I Learned. Maybe someday I’ll start doing quarterly posts like this again. In the meantime, I’d love to know which of these points resonates with you during this season of your life.

♥ Lois

The build-up to a Very Big Thing can seem more stressful, emotional or difficult than the actual thing. Share on X Understanding from someone who was once where you are is a rare and precious gift. Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.

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When You Fear Your Best Days Are Behind You

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

Inside: Instead of comparing how we are now with how we used to be, let’s remember that if we’re still here, we still have good work to do. ~

Do you fear your best days are behind you?Do you know people—either personally or from afar—who have endured trials and come out on the other side transformed and increasingly confident in their faith? Individuals who exude peace, joy and gratitude when you might expect the exact opposite because of the difficulties they’ve been through?

I don’t know about you, but I love interacting with people who fit this description. Watching God use them as a result of their experiences is both encouraging and inspirational.

But what about those of us who look in the rearview mirrors of our own lives and see something different?

We notice how our struggles have changed us and fear we may never be able to do anything significant again. We look at how we are now, compare ourselves to how we used to be, and think our most fruitful years are behind us.

Sad Comparison

It’s the saddest kind of comparison, because it’s all based on a lie.

The lie is that how we were before—before loss, before disease, before the wilderness, before age, before disability, before the Mack truck plowed into us and wrecked our previous existence—was better. That we were more complete then, more desirable, more effective, more useful.

It’s a lie, but it’s so tempting to believe it.

Truth Be Told …

It’s almost easier to stop comparing our own stories to someone else’s than it is to stop comparing the current chapter of our lives to some chapter from the past.

I’m not talking about surface comparisons such as pounds on the bathroom scale or the number of gray hairs we see in the mirror. Most of us will never look or feel at 50 or 65 exactly how we did at 30 or 40, and part of growing older includes accepting that fact.

No, I’m referring to the reality that difficult seasons and earthquake events in our lives can sometimes alter our ability to minister, lower our energy level and even change our personalities.

It’s Not All Bad

Some of the changes are for the better, of course. As Romans 5:3-4 says, “Affliction produces endurance, endurance produces proven character, and proven character produces hope.” Who wouldn’t want all that?

And yet, when we look at the trial-altered versions of ourselves and examine all our scars and weak spots, it’s tempting to think we’ll never measure up again, that our best days are over, that we’re well past the point of making a difference for the Kingdom.

But even though we feel less useful, in God’s eyes, we are not.

We Still Have Work to Do

According to Ephesians 2:10, “We are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

Those jobs God has assigned to us? They might be different now, but they don’t dry up just because we think we’re washed up. As the 18th-century English evangelist George Whitefield put it, “We are immortal until our work here on on earth is done.”

In other words, if we’re still here, God has something for us to do.

The Bottom Line

None of us gets an advance copy of our life story. We aren’t even privy to sketchy outlines. But we do know the Author of our stories. More importantly, the Author knows us.

And as He weaves the chapters of our lives together, every chapter—however difficult—lays the groundwork for the chapters to come. If even one were missing, our stories would not make sense or be complete.

It’s tough to break the comparison habit when it comes to comparing ourselves to ourselves. But please—don’t believe the lie.

We weren’t better before. We’re more useful now.

♥ Lois

None of us gets an advance copy of our life story. We aren’t even privy to sketchy outlines. But we do know the Author of our stories. More importantly, the Author knows us. Share on X When we look how our trials have changed us, it’s tempting to think our most fruitful days are behind us. But even though we feel less useful, in God’s eyes, we are not. Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.

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Reflections on 10 Years of Blogging

by Lois Flowers
by Lois Flowers

Inside:  What I’ve learned since publishing my first post has very little to do with blogging and very much to do with life, loss and God’s faithfulness through seasons of change. ~

As of last week, I’ve been blogging for 10 years.

 It’s hard to believe, honestly. Not because I’ve been at it for an entire decade, but because of all the life that transpired during that time.

 Life that I’ve written about—for me and, perhaps, for you.

Back Then

When I hit publish on my first post, my daughters were 12 and nine. My parents were still alive and, as far as anyone knew, as well as could be expected for people in their early 80s.

 Today, the girls are young adults. Lilly is working her first post-grad job, and Molly—now a college sophomore—is spending the semester in Ireland.

 My parents have been in heaven for five years, after a series of events over several years that nobody could have imagined or predicted.

As a Result …

What I know now that I didn’t know when I published my first blog post has very little to do with blogging and very much to do with aging parents and grief, God’s sovereignty and timing, holding fast and letting go.

 I’ve written about these topics along the way, but not because of some grand master plan I came up with at the outset. In those early years, when I was sharing stories about my family and my own personal struggles with fear and change, I never would have dreamed that one day I’d be writing about parent loss and God’s faithfulness during unexpected seasons of chaos and sadness.

 And yet, somehow, that’s exactly what I did.

Week After Week …

I wrote through my parents’ last years, and then I continued to write after they were gone. I wrote to process my own thoughts and feelings, but also to encourage others who had experienced a similar loss or expected to do so soon.

A couple of years ago, in a post about some devotional practices I’ve discovered since I began blogging, I wrote this:

“God will use every single thing He allows to touch His children’s lives for our good and His glory. And it’s not a huge stretch to think that He might use an earthquake as the means to shore up our foundation in way that prepares us for a future hurricane.”

Universal Experiences

Early on, I was mostly content to share stories from my life and let readers glean their own meaning from my words. Then a few of those earthquakes and hurricanes came my way, and I started realizing that, while the details of each event were unique to my family, the questions and feelings they stirred up were universal—or at least common among believers.

Because of this, my writing started to become more outwardly focused. We’re in this together, is how I see it now. And the more we can point each other to the constancy of God’s character, the comfort of His sovereignty and sufficiency of His grace, the better off we’ll be.

Whether you’ve been with me since the very first post, you’ve been reading for several years or you just subscribed last week, I’m so grateful you’re here. I can’t predict what the next 10 years—or even the next 10 months—will hold for this space. But I do hope to keep showing up here (or in your inbox) every week, sharing some bit of life or truth that might encourage us both.

 ♥ Lois

P.S. If you’d like to receive these posts in your inbox every week, simply enter your email address under the “Follow Blog Via Email” banner on the right sidebar, click the “Follow” button and confirm your subscription in the email you receive.

God will use every single thing He allows to touch His children’s lives for our good and His glory. Share on X We’re in this together. And the more we can point each other to the constancy of God’s character, the comfort of His sovereignty and sufficiency of His grace, the better off we’ll be. Share on X

P.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.

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