Covering topics that impact today's Christian: family, marriage, raising kids, spiritual growth, forgiveness, etc.
When I was 13 years old I was molested by my then-step-father. There are really no words to adequately describe the fear I felt that night. While my short-term memory fails me every day, I can still remember that night in vivid detail. What I remember most are the thoughts going through my head “How do I get out of this? How can I get away without making him angry? I should not be here. I don’t belong here.” Somehow, God
Last week we had some hard days in the Ballon household. It was an especially hard week for my 16-year-old. And of course for dear old mom and dad. I’ve written frequently about the joys of raising teenagers, and for the most part, it is a joy. It’s really so much better than people tell you. But then, sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes the problems feel so enormous and grown-up that it’s hard to reconcile the fact that this is your
At 9, I had an up-close and personal look at the racial divide. It happened during my family’s trip to a suburban Chicago shopping mall. As we exited a large department store, another child got my attention. He was with his family, too. I wondered if he was just as amazed by being in the 1970s megastructure. But he was amazed by something else. He yelled, “Mommy, look at all the Black people!” I looked to see the people he
We knew from the time my son was in pre-school that he was not like the other kids. He was only five the first time we took him in for testing. Over the years my sweet boy has been tested and evaluated for everything from ADHD to Bi-Polar to Autism. After a few misdiagnoses and false starts, I’m so grateful that with the help of a wonderful doctor and supportive school we now have proper diagnoses and treatment in place,
Today as I was walking into the grocery store an older gentleman, with kind eyes, handed me a pamphlet. The front of it said in big bold letters: “What you miss by being a Christian”. As a chronic people-pleaser I have a hard time saying no to people handing out fliers, samples, or anything else that’s given freely and with a smile. So I stuck the pamphlet in my purse and later, when I got back to my office, I
I remember the day clearly, especially what I was wearing. I was in high school and Umbro shorts were all the rage. If you don’t remember these, they were a thin nylon/polyester short, usually in wild colors. I think they were originally made for soccer players, but seeing how I hadn’t played soccer since I was five years old, I was more concerned about the cool factor, than the practicality of these shorts. I remember a classmate whispering in my
This year the journey to spring has seemed like two steps forward, one step back, with 75 degree days followed by 12 inches of snow two days later. And right now everything just seems like a big sopping wet mess outside. It’s pretty much how parenting feels, especially lately. It’s been two steps forward, one step back, sometimes feeling like I am knee-deep in mud and muck. Maybe you’re there, too. Maybe you have just come out of a hard
Reach for the stars! Hard work and sacrifice pay off! Don’t downgrade your dream just to fit your reality! She believed she could, and so she did! If you don’t go after what you want, you’ll never have it! I think most of us have heard some or all of these motivational phrases during our lives, maybe we’ve even said a few to encourage our friends or children. Maybe we have posters hanging in our office or classroom with these
[One of the great blessings I’ve experienced since I started writing is getting to connect with men and women all over the world who read my words. Oftentimes it’s something simple like, “thank you, I needed that” or “me, too”. Sometimes I get asked to pray over a situation someone is going through, which is a true honor. And sometimes, someone reaches out and says, “I’d like to tell you my story.” A few weeks ago a reader I’d never
“I need to lose weight! I’m fat.” These are words spoken by my 13-year-old daughter last week, and not for the first time. My beautiful, strong, muscular, dancing, soccer-playing, cross country running daughter. And my heart breaks a little each time she says something disparaging about her body. I worry for her. I worry for her sister. I worry because every day they are faced with images that tell them what beauty is and then they look in the mirror