We Are Soldiers of the Lord

299902_10151541471771346_272641265_nRomans 8:37-39 … in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor 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.

“We are soldiers of the Lord”, I told my children one day. “You mean were going to war mom?” This was the start to a very interesting conversation.

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Praying For More Than “Safe”

I pen these words the day after a bomber took out an 8-year-old as he waited for his dad to cross the finish line of the Boston marathon. There’s not a single day that I drop my son off at pre-school that I don’t think about Sandy Hook and have to fight the urge to do a U-turn in the school parking lot, bring him home and lock all the doors. Then there are super viruses, bacterial infections, and childhood cancers…It’s enough to make me want to say this desperate prayer all day, every day “Jesus, keep my kids safe. Jesus, keep my kids safe. JESUS, PLEASE KEEP MY KIDS SAFE!”

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Broken Pieces

By Kristie Stoddard

My heart is broken.

Remember that fear I wrote about? Every mother’s worst fear? It happened to a good friend of mine … actually it happened to her two beautiful daughters, whom I love and have taught at our co-op. They home school, just like we do. They are very cautious about letting their girls spend the night at anyone’s house. They screen their movies and teach their girls about purity … just like we do. They love their girls and they protect them from the world. But it still happened. They trusted a friend, they were helping him and his family
out, giving them a place to stay after he lost his job. Continue reading

The Bondage of Fear

By Kristie Stoddard

Driving along the moon-shadowed roads out to the grassy football field north of town, I thought about this blog for moms. I was going to pick up my 14-year-old son from football practice. It was dark and quiet, as I contemplated what I might have to say to a generation of moms that would mean anything. Continue reading