Author

Lois Flowers

Hands High or Not, Our Hearts Are Still Full of Praise

by Lois Flowers May 16, 2023

by Lois Flowers

Inside: Whatever our worship style, old hymns remind us of timeless biblical truths and turn our hearts toward heaven, where we will all praise God together. ~

“O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come.”

Written by Isaac Watts in 1719, these lyrics came to mind one morning the week before Easter.

Googling the song led me to Reawaken Hymns on YouTube. One guy singing old hymns set to modern music isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, to be sure. But I immediately downloaded the entire collection on Spotify—all 9 hours and 58 minutes of it—and have been listening to it ever since.

The Soundtrack of My Youth

Hymns are as much a part of my DNA as storytelling and Italian spaghetti sauce. I listen and remember: Worship services in the sanctuary of my childhood church, organ on one side, piano on the other, wooden pulpit in the middle. Standing with dear friends, red hymnal open between us, trying to match their voices as they sang the alto part.

As a girl, I preferred hymns with choruses. “Wonderful Grace of Jesus.” “I Stand Amazed in the Presence.” “Standing on the Promises.” “Trust and Obey.” I haven’t sung these songs congregationally in decades, yet the words are at the tip of my tongue as I type.

The church of my youth frowned on music with a beat. During those song services I remember so well, nary a hand rose in the air. Not even close.

I have a feeling this was difficult for my mom. She left behind her Assembly of God roots when she married my dad, but she couldn’t divorce herself from her Italian spirit.

More Free to Worship

When I was older, the churches my parents attended were much freer in their expressions of worship, which my mom enjoyed immensely. Even in her 80s, she appreciated videos of contemporary groups singing on YouTube.

“I love to watch the young people worship,” she told me.

In all the years we went to the same church, I never once witnessed my mom raise a hand in praise. Randy saw more from his perch in the tech booth, though. I will be forever grateful for his covert photography skills.

When the Spirit Moves

Hand-raising seems to be somewhat selective at the church I attend now. Certain songs prompt hands—including my own—to go up here and there, but not often during hymns. Instead, as the lines of “All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name” or “Crown Him with Many Crowns” flood the auditorium, I’m more likely to be wiping away tears as I remember my childhood church, and, of course, my parents.

At home, though, when listening to these hymns with the catchy accompaniment, I almost can’t keep my hands down, right there in the middle of my kitchen.

Those who sing with “hands high, hearts full of praise,” as Phil Wickham’s song says, aren’t any more or less spiritual than those whose hands hold hymnals every Sunday. I don’t know how you feel about it, but in my opinion, it’s a matter of preference, personality, tradition and comfort level.

Heavenly Praise

I like to imagine the scene in heaven—folks from every tribe, tongue and nation worshipping God in the way that is most closely aligned with how He made each of us.

I can picture myself there in the heavenly throng, along with my husband and daughters, parents, siblings, friends I’ve known over the years and countless millions of strangers who perhaps will become friends in eternity. Those who went to heaven before me and those who came later—voices raised in perfect praise.

I think it might sound something like this:

O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come,
our shelter from the stormy blast, and our eternal home:

Under the shadow of your throne your saints have dwelt secure;
sufficient is your arm alone, and our defense is sure.

Before the hills in order stood, or earth received its frame,
from everlasting you are God, to endless years the same.

A thousand ages in your sight are like an evening gone,
short as the watch that ends the night before the rising sun.

Time, like an ever-rolling stream, soon bears us all away;
we fly forgotten, as a dream dies at the op’ning day.

O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come,
still be our guard while troubles last, and our eternal home!

• • •

Did you grow up with hymns? How do they fit into your worship now? Please share a favorite or two, if you like.

♥ Lois

Hymns are as much a part of my DNA as storytelling and Italian spaghetti sauce. Share on X Imagine the scene in heaven—folks from every tribe, tongue and nation worshipping God in the way that is most closely aligned with how He made each of us. Share on X

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

Photo Credits: Rock formations by Esther Ware; church service by Randy Flowers.

May 16, 2023 22 comments

7 Things Moms Will Always Need to Hear

by Lois Flowers May 9, 2023

by Lois Flowers

Inside: Mothering lessons that bring gentle perspective to any season of parenting, from the terrible twos to the empty nest and beyond. ~

Throughout my mothering journey, I think I’ve learned more from fellow moms who are further down the parenting path than from any other source of wisdom besides the Bible.

Books and online articles are wonderful, and many were helpful when I was a younger mom. But as my girls moved through their teen years and the issues they encountered began to get heavier and more complex, conversations with friends who have adult children became a much greater source of encouragement.

We’ve Only Just Begun

I’ve loved being a mom all these years, and if what my more experienced friends tell me is any indication, the adventure is only beginning. It won’t look the same, of course. My presence and input in my daughters’ lives will change and vary as they grow into their adult lives.

Expectations of particular outcomes are best held loosely in every season of life, especially if they have to do with other people. But I’m hopeful my relationship with each of my girls will continue to be strong and as important to them as it is to me.

What I’ve Learned

When I think about what I’ve learned during my first two decades of motherhood, a few words of encouragement for other moms come to mind. I originally shared most of these in 2015, but they are as relevant now—for moms of any age and season of parenting—as they were back then.

1. “You’re doing a good job.”

My heart craved affirmation like this when I was newer at parenting, especially from the important women in my life. I felt so inadequate, so unprepared, so unsure of my ability to train up my little girls in the ways they should go. (Who am I kidding? I still feel this way quite often.) That’s why, whenever possible, I want other moms to hear this bit of encouragement from me.

2. “It’s not all up to you.”

You are not the ultimate authority in your child’s life; God is. Your job is to get to know your children as well as you can and make decisions based on that knowledge and the timeless truths of scripture. And remember—in God’s eyes, their story doesn’t end when they turn 18 or 21 or even 35. In fact, it might be just beginning.

3. “Don’t believe anyone else’s opinion about the worst of times.”

I know. There’s a reason those early years often are called the “terrible twos,” “terrifying threes” or “horrible fours.” There’s a reason people shudder and roll their eyes when the topic of raising teenagers, pre-teen daughters or strong-willed children comes up.

But every kid is different. Don’t automatically assume that your child is going to fit whatever stereotype people want to pin on her, at any stage of her life. Don’t expect that the next phase is going to be all sunshine and roses, but don’t expect the worst either. Take what comes, do your best and refer often to No. 2. 4. Savor the sweet and don’t fear what might come next.

If you find yourself in a season where everything seems to be going well with your family, acknowledge it. Enjoy it. Be thankful for it.

Don’t expect it to last forever, however. You never know when or where the next storm is going to hit, but you count on it coming sooner or later. You can also can rest assured that God will be there before you and will help you and your children through it.

5. “Educate yourself. But when in doubt, go with your gut.”

When the therapists, teachers or dental hygienists tell you one thing and your heart tells you another, you’re not obligated to do what they say—now or ever. This is more important in today’s culture than ever before, I think.

6. “Apologize often.”

When you’ve overreacted and everyone knows it. When you’ve raised your voice unnecessarily one too many times. When it’s your tone that needs correcting, not theirs.

Kids are forgiving, but it’s often up to the adults in their lives to give them that opportunity. And trust me on this one. You never know the difference your apology today might make in their lives when they are much older.

7. “Pray like your children’s lives depend on it.”

Because they do. When they’re living at home and especially when they are out on their own.

• • •

If you’re a mom or stepmom, what is the most significant bit of encouragement you’ve ever received about your parenting? Whether you’re a mom or not, I’d love to know what your mother or other special woman in your life did well that still impacts your life today.

Finally, if you are a mom of daughters or a daughter with a mother, you may find these posts timely or helpful.

• A Hope-filled Note for Moms of Girls

• Hope for Moms and Daughters in Every Season

♥ Lois

When the therapists, teachers or dental hygienists tell you one thing and your heart tells you another, you’re not obligated to do what they say—now or ever. Share on X In God’s eyes, your child's story doesn’t end when she turns 18 or 21 or even 35. In fact, it might be just beginning. Share on X

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

May 9, 2023 26 comments

One Step to Take When You’re Down or Discouraged

by Lois Flowers May 2, 2023

by Lois Flowers

Inside: When life gets discouraging, searching for evidence of God’s goodness and faithfulness in past hard seasons gives us hope and helps us persevere. ~

I came down with Covid in mid February. A week later, after most of the physical symptoms had passed, I found myself in an unexpected low spot.

I don’t know if it was the virus or the fact that my body was missing its much-needed exercise routine. But I was feeling worse, mentally and emotionally, than I had in a long time.

Logically, I knew the negative thoughts swirling in my head weren’t true. I reminded myself why I was feeling this way. I prayed. I told myself, “This too shall pass”—again and again.

The self-talk helped some. But I remained frustrated and discouraged.

Lightbulb Moment

As I was trying to articulate my struggle to Randy, I had an idea.

“Can I tell you every single thing that is wrong or that I am feeling bad about?” I asked him as he sat a few feet away, looking up vintage Corvettes on the Internet.

My longsuffering husband barely missed a beat.

“Yes, I will listen,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “but you might need to get help from someone else.”

I’ll spare you the details, but many of my disparaging thoughts had to do what I had done with my life thus far. When Randy said “someone else,” he meant a friend who had successfully navigated the empty nest stage of life after being a stay-at-home mom for many years.

What Happened Next

Happy that he agreed to listen, my penchant for organization kicked in.

“Maybe I’ll make a list and share the list with you,” I said, picturing what would amount to the opposite of a gratitude list.

To his credit, Randy simply said OK.

Not every bout of discouragement—temporary or long-term—ends like this. That day, though, just knowing I could write down every last thing that felt rotten at the moment and share it with my husband somehow made me feel better.

It gave me an option, something tangible to do if I chose to.

A New Perspective

It’s been a few months, and I still haven’t made that list. The emotional roller coaster that had been jerking me around soon slowed and finally stopped. By that time, another message had taken root in my heart.

Remember the goodness.

When we’re stuck in the fog of sickness, uncertainty or discouragement, it’s easy to start questioning our circumstances or life choices, even ones we’ve always believed were sound. Asking God to show us the truth about those decisions is helpful. So is reflecting on seasons where His goodness was abundantly evident.

It also can be beneficial to switch lenses and intentionally zoom in on parts of our past where God’s lovingkindness might not be immediately obvious.

Where to Look

My mind goes back to years of infertility, long waits to complete two adoptions, job losses and moves, seemingly endless hormonal challenges, learning to parent two daughters who are vastly different from one another, my parents’ last years and months.

Where’s the goodness in all that, you ask? Once I start remembering, I can hardly stop.

The providential order in which our daughters came to us. The myriad blessings that flow from their unique personalities. The flexibility that came with unexpected—and sometimes unwelcome—transitions. The way God answered specific prayers about buying and selling our homes over the years.

The closeness that developed between my dad and me in my mom’s last years. The support of immediate and extended family when my parents were declining. The relationships between my girls and their cousins that probably wouldn’t have grown as much if my parents’ health crises had not prompted so many visits from relatives.

Finding the Goodness

This type of thinking may flow more naturally if you’re a glass-half-full type person. Most of the time, though, I think we can all find a few specks of good in the bad or the hard, if we only take the time to look.

The more we look, the more we see evidence of God’s goodness and faithfulness. And the more we see, the easier it is to trust that “surely goodness and mercy will follow [us] all the days of our [lives].” (Psalm 23:6a, emphasis mine)

• • •

Whether we are currently experiencing a high, a low or a “somewhere in between,” remembering the goodness helps keep our focus where it belongs. As you think back over your life, where can you spot God’s goodness during a hard or challenging season?

♥ Lois

When you're feeling discouraged, zoom in on parts of your past where God’s lovingkindness isn't immediately obvious and see if you can remember the goodness. Share on X Most of the time, I think we can all find a few specks of good in the bad or the hard, if we only take the time to look. Share on X

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

May 2, 2023 32 comments

Share Four Somethings: April 2023

by Lois Flowers April 25, 2023

by Lois Flowers

Inside: Three helpful talks about anxiety, a day of mother-daughter feels, the quest for bifocal contacts, and a Christmas cactus that finally bloomed. ~

Last week, I went to our local Fed-Ex office to mail my daughter Lilly’s visa application for her upcoming semester abroad. Later that afternoon, Molly and I met with her best friend and her mother to plan the girls’ high-school grad party.

This also happened to be the day my own mom died, four years earlier.

Plenty of mother-daughter feels, for sure.

I’m excited for my girls. I also miss my mom.

It’s the circle of life, one that countless daughters who are also mothers have experienced.

Visiting my mom at the nursing home on Easter in 2018.

My mom was always happy to see me. And I’m always happy to see my daughters.

Perhaps that’s why, despite some wonky days along the way, I’ve been feeling abundantly grateful in April. It’s gone by in a flash, as the months seem to be doing with increasing urgency these days.

Which means it’s time to link up with Jennifer for another Share Four Somethings, starting with …

Something Loved

My Christmas cactus hasn’t bloomed for several years. Most recently, because it wasn’t in direct sunlight. It grew plenty of leaves, but no flowers.

It used to be such a prolific bloomer, which made its ongoing lack of buds even more discouraging.

A few months ago, I moved the plant back to its original home by our southern-facing wall of floor-length windows. I figured I’d have to wait until next winter for results, so you can imagine my surprise when it produced a single flower, right before Easter.

I was overjoyed, to put it mildly. I took pictures (see top of post) and sent texts about it.

Who knew a single bloom could produce such a reaction? (Besides my family, of course.)

Something Read

In recent months, I’ve been on a quest for bifocal contacts. My optometrist fitted me for one type, then another. Apparently, I’m quite persnickety about my vision, because neither worked for me.

Finally, we decided to try using my regular prescription for my dominant eye and a contact with a reading-vision overlay for the other eye.

According to my doctor, about half the population can adjust to this kind of correction and the other half can’t. Given my previous failed attempts, I was certain I would fall into the latter category.

I mentally prepared myself to accept a future of putting on and taking off reading glasses constantly. (Just the thought of eye surgery gives me the heebie-jeebies, in case you were wondering about that.)

I went to the eye doctor for one last fitting. Lo and behold, the contacts worked. Not perfectly, but well enough.

I couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t a bifocal contacts failure after all.

Since then, looking at small words has taken on whole new level of enjoyment. I can read restaurant menus. The amount of sodium in a can of cream of mushroom soup. My daughter’s phone when she shows me a funny meme. The notes I’m taking in church. Recipe books with tiny ingredient lists.

I can glance down and actually see what I’m looking at, without flapping around for my reading glasses. I had no idea I was missing so much.

Something Learned

The desire for life to have a fast-forward button may never go away. But that doesn’t mean we’re doomed to anxiety over the what-ifs or frustration when we can’t see what’s ahead.

Rather, we have a wonderful, ongoing opportunity to take deep breaths, to cast our cares upon Jesus, to try to trust Him moment by moment.

This is a big part of what it means to walk by faith. I don’t know about you, but it’s also a shift I need to make over and over again.

I don’t always like it. I’d rather be able to stand still and enjoy a quiet season or run like the wind, straight into a glorious, predictable future.

But God knows what I need. He knows what you need. And He will see us through.

Something Heard

Speaking of anxiety, Louie Giglio recently preached a short series on the topic that was so good I listened to it twice. You can find it on the Passion City Church Podcast on Spotify, as well as on the church’s website.

I could share quotes, but I hope simply providing links to Giglio’s three talks from “Putting an X through Anxiety” will prompt you to check out the series. (If you do, let me know what you think.) Here they are:

• Breathing Out the Weight of Depression

• Finding Up When Anxiety Weighs You Down

• The Best Thing to do with Your Anxiety

• • •

And now for my favorite part of these monthly posts—hearing from you. How has your April been? Please let us know what you’ve been reading, learning or loving lately.

♥ Lois

The desire for life to have a fast-forward button may never go away. But that doesn’t mean we're doomed to anxiety over the what-ifs or frustration when we can’t see what’s ahead. Share on X God knows what I need. He knows what you need. And He will see us through. Share on X

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

April 25, 2023 30 comments

How Stirring the Pot Helps Us Grieve Well

by Lois Flowers April 18, 2023

by Lois Flowers

Inside: A helpful metaphor that shows how important it is to speak our grief—to sort through our memories and feelings out loud in the presence of compassionate listeners. ~

The week after Christmas, five of my family’s seven siblings were in town. This was the first time since our parents’ funerals in 2019 that this many of us were this close to where we all grew up.

We had a couple of big dinners at my home—Asian night, to honor our family members of that ethnicity, and Italian night, to remember the legacy of good cooking that our mom passed down to us.

Getting Ready

The day before our Italian supper, I made a big pot of my mom’s spaghetti sauce, along with her amazing meatball recipe, and put it in the fridge until it was needed.

When reheating a big pot of sauce, you have to keep it on the stove long enough to warm it through, but not at such a high temperature that it gets overcooked. The problem was, we’d recently gotten a new range and I wasn’t familiar with how each of the burners worked.

I also didn’t stir the sauce nearly enough as I should have.

Oops

In the process of warming up the pot, the sauce on the bottom scorched badly. Thankfully, it was still edible, despite the slightly acrid taste that permeated most of it.

The pot, however, was another story. After soaking it overnight and boiling a mixture of vinegar and baking soda in it, I expended significant amounts of time and energy chipping chunks and layers of burned sauce off the bottom.

I finally got it clean. I also learned my lesson.

Stirring the Pot

The next time I made sauce, I turned the stove to the lowest setting and stirred the pot every 20 minutes for three hours.

When I emptied the sauce into a slow cooker so Molly could take it to school for a robotics team dinner, the bottom of my stock pot was sparkling silver. There wasn’t a speck of burned material anywhere.

Turns out, stirring the pot makes all the difference.

And not just when it comes to cooking.

Poignant Metaphor

The poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once said, “There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.”

He was right, I think.

When we do the opposite—talk or perhaps write about loved ones we have lost—it’s like stirring a pot of sauce simmering on the stove. Sorting through our heavier memories and feelings out loud keeps all the bits and pieces from sinking to the bottom and scorching the pot, metaphorically.

Speaking Grief

Letting the “grief speak,” to borrow Longfellow’s language, allows us to incorporate our thoughts into a somewhat-cohesive mental stew. This can happen many places: over coffee with friends, in the comfort of our own living rooms, in a counselor’s office or at a grief support group.

It doesn’t change what happened, but it helps us process it in a healthy way.

My parents often come up in normal conversation with my husband and daughters. Nothing is off limits, from strengths and weaknesses to endearing traits and idiosyncrasies. We share what we miss about them, tell jokes my dad would have enjoyed, mention if they would have loved this song or that event. (My friend Linda describes this practice well here.)

A Better View

We don’t view my mom and dad through rose-colored glasses. But our lenses are tinged with the realization that what might irritate us when our loved ones are with us pales in comparison with how much we miss them when they’re gone.

April 19 marks the four-year anniversary my mom’s heavenly homegoing. A valuable part of my grief journey has been writing about losing her (and my dad, five weeks later). I appreciate all of you who have read along—the whole time or perhaps just recently—with compassion and understanding.

You’ve helped me stir the pot, and I’m so thankful.

If you’ve lost a loved one—recently or long ago—and would like someone to remember that person with you, please share in the comments. Speak your grief, and we will be blessed to listen.

♥ Lois

This post is part of a collection called Help for Parent Loss. To read more, please click here.

When we talk about loved ones we have lost, it’s like stirring a pot of sauce simmering on the stove. Share on X Sorting through our heavier memories and feelings out loud keeps all the bits and pieces from sinking to the bottom and scorching the pot, metaphorically. Share on X

April 18, 2023 34 comments

As Grief Softens, This Familiar Truth Brings Greater Comfort

by Lois Flowers April 11, 2023

by Lois Flowers

Inside: Over time, the truth that our loved ones are with Jesus can sink more deeply into our hearts and bring fresh comfort, even during seasons of greater grief and remembrance. ~

It’s been almost four years since my parents went home to heaven. I’ve had plenty of time to process, to write, to talk at length about what happened.

At times, though, I still can’t believe it. It all happened so fast. In my mind, I was so young.

Age is Relative

Forty-eight, which is how old I was when my parents died, seems ancient to my young adult daughters.

But I had never lost a close loved one before. While I’d supported and prayed for friends traveling the dark road of grief, I had not trudged down it myself.

The two people who knew and loved me my entire life, who lived nearby for their last 13 years, were gone. Within five weeks of each other, after an intense season of decline.

Just Being Human

I’ve heard people talk about their desires for their aging or terminally ill parents to live longer—or for their mom or dad to want to do everything possible to stay alive—as if those desires had been selfish.

I think they’re being too hard on themselves. Those desires aren’t selfish; they’re human.

People who have more life experience, endured more sorrow or had parents who suffered greatly before they died might have other—perhaps wiser or kinder—perspectives about trying to keep people alive as long as possible.

I Get That

The long walk home is different for everyone, and for everyone’s loved ones.

In hindsight, having read more about mortality and end-of-life issues, I understand a few things now that I couldn’t comprehend before.

Blessing in Disguise

Given what’s happened in the world the last three years, I also see now that it was a sad kind of blessing that my parents died in 2019. Before 2020 and all that followed.

If they had survived the Covid pandemic while living in a nursing home, my mom would be turning 91 in May, my dad 90. Realistically, Covid or not, there’s a good chance they wouldn’t have lived that long anyway.

Comfort for the Heart

My logical mind finds solace in these thoughts. Lately, though, another thought has been comforting my heart. It’s been there all along, but for some reason, it’s speaking louder than it was before.

It’s the biblical truth that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. According to 2 Corinthians 5:8, the later actually was the Apostle Paul’s preference.

“We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body and to be present with the Lord.” (KJV, emphasis mine)

Who Knows?

While thick books have been written about heaven, we don’t know much about what it’s really like. The Bible offers imagery and bits of commentary here and there. Theologians over the years have offered their best guesses about what it all means.

But I don’t think our human minds can even begin to imagine it.

Perhaps you’ve heard, as I have, comments about loved ones looking down on us or being reunited with each other in heaven when they die. Those are nice ideas, but again, we can’t really know for sure whether they represent present reality.

One Sure Thing

What we can be certain of is what 2 Corinthians 5:8 makes clear: that when a believer dies, his body stays in the ground and his soul enters God’s presence.

He is, as the NIV puts it, “Away from the body and at home with the Lord” (emphasis mine).

When we lose a loved one, it’s normal and natural to focus on what we’ve lost. I miss my parents more than I can say, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

Finally Home

But these days, the thought that two of the people I always felt most at home with are “at home with the Lord” is tempering my sadness with joy in a fresh, new way.

I have no idea what a soul looks or acts like. I wonder how all those saints that have gone before us fit in heaven. I’m curious about whether they can see each other or sense each other’s presence.

However it all works, my parents—and your believing loved ones who have died—are with Jesus. Somehow, their souls are in the presence of the Alpha and Omega, the wonderful Counselor, the Savior of the world, the Great I Am, the Good Shepherd, the Prince of Peace, the Ancient of Days.