Road Trip Prayer

The night sky finally threw a blanket over a bittersweet day. Lots of hugs. Lots of goodbyes. Lots of tears from a weary girl.

When morning throws that blanket back, I’ll climb in my Mazda with my little Riffer and hit the road toward Louisiana.

Some folks say I’m going home. Others say I’m leaving home. I guess they’re all correct. Home is where the hugs are, right?

Truly, I am blessed with a huge pile of people who love me and genuinely like me. That’s what makes this move both a brute and a breeze. As hard as it is to leave all my people here, I’ll soon be wrapped up in “welcome homes.”

My hope is in tact, and I know my joy’s in there somewhere. But tonight? Tonight, I’m deeply sad, and that’s ok.

Sadness has benefits. It helps us appreciate happiness. It reminds us that we did, indeed, survive the hard thing that brought on the sadness in the first place. And best of all, it gives God the opportunity to lavish our souls with His comfort.

But we have to be careful when sadness sinks in. The enemy loves to slip in some sneaky sidekicks: shame, condemnation and despair.

As I drove back from spending time with my sons this evening, I experienced a low-blow enemy assault. He loves to kick us when we’re down, doesn’t he?

Oh, the reminders of all the ways I’ve failed. Oh, the replays of the most hurtful scenes. Oh, the rehashing of a million things I could have done differently.

By the time I got to my sweet friend’s house, I was a shame-slapped wreck.

She let me spew and stew for a while. Then she gently reminded me to get back to thinking on what’s true. That’s what true friends do. And that’s the reason I’m writing on here tonight.

I’m about to drive 1200 miles. I will not spend all those hours listening to lies.

I have my phone fully stocked with truth music, and I have a multitude of truth tellers on speed dial.

And best of all, I have the Holy Spirit living in my soul, and I trust Him to keep the riff-raff out.


Because I know You’re with me, I’m ready for this road trip.

I will sing joy songs…truth songs…mile-by-mile. [Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!] 

I will speak truth into anyone You place in my path. [Let your gentleness be evident to all.]

 I will appreciate Your constant nearness. [The Lord is near.]

I won’t be anxious. I’ll be prayerful and thankful. And I’ll let Your promised peace guard my heart and my mind. [Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.]

Because of Jesus, my mind will be a “no lie” zone. All truth. All forward. All God-honoring. [Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.] Philippians 4:4-8 NIV

Please, Lord, help me sift through the sadness and find my smile. I imagine You’re smiling over the plans You have for me. I trust You, Lord. Help me show it. 

Ready to roll in Jesus’ Name, AMEN








When it’s for your own good

Isn’t it interesting how the same event can be bliss for one person and torture for another? Take haircuts, for example. I love every second of it. The spinny chair. The small talk. The snip-snip and the shampoo scent. I always walk out of the salon feeling pampered and pumped up.

Now, for my little Riffer, it’s a whole other story. The minute I put him in the car, he starts shaking. He knows. When I hand off Riff to Holly the groomer, his brown eyes beg, “Don’t leave me here!”

But I do.

I know he’ll feel all frisky when it’s over. I know he’ll look adorable and smell clean and fresh. I know I can trust Holly to take good care of him.

Sorry, Riff, but it’s for your own good.

I’m feeling a bit like Riff right now. Some folks love the excitement of the unknown. They thrive on spontaneity and get bored with routine. I’m not one of those people.

I don’t like surprises, even good ones. I like to feel in-control of my surroundings and my day-to-day routine. I enjoy setting down roots and staying put for a long, long time.

Yet, here I find myself all up-in-the-air. Do I move “back home” to Louisiana, or do I stay put here in Arizona? Do I embark on a new career path, or do I return to the classroom? The season of wait-and-see has me shaking in my sandals. I can just picture God’s loving eyes watching me beg, “Don’t leave me here!”

But He is.

He knows I’ll feel all fired up and blown away when it’s over. He knows this season will make me look more like Him. He knows I trust Him to take care of me, even when I don’t act like it.

Sorry, LeeBird, but it’s for your own good.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28 NIV).


I trust You.

I’m listening to You.

I’ll obey You.