Now that those truths are out of the way, let’s get into the nitty-gritty of it all! 

Sometimes when God is quiet in our time of need, doubt creeps in. This is just part of being human, honestly. We doubt! We second-guess! We worry! 

But let’s unpack this for a moment – think about the last time something really scary, stressful, or hurtful happened in your life. Don’t stay there; we’re taking a journey.

Now think about what happened afterwards.

First of all, you survived it, you’re here today. Now think about how God showed up for you in that season. He might have brought a friend into your life who comforted you. He might have sent a group to provide you with food. He might have completely healed your family member. 

When you first entered that situation, you might have felt abandoned by God. You might have thought He forgot you. But when you look back at it – I know you see all the ways God worked it out for your good and how He was orchestrating all the moving parts behind the scenes. 

So if God did that last time and the time before that, oh, and He also did that for your best friend and your coworker… why would He stop now? 

Isaiah 41:10 says, “Fear not for I am with you; be not dismayed for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

God doesn’t change just because your situation did. He is exactly who He says He is, and He does exactly what He says He will do. 

So what are we supposed to do when God is quiet? 

Trust. 

Proverbs 3:5-6 says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.” 

Our own personal histories have shown us how God came through for us AND a lot of the time He came through in a way that we totally didn’t expect. So stop looking for the breakthrough in the way you think it should happen and get excited to see how God manages to work all this mess out in only the way He can. 

We’re praying for you in the meantime. 

Its bright yellow flowers can even seem cheerful. But tansy is an invasive, toxic weed. Once it gets a foothold, it spreads quickly, crowds out what is healthy, and can harm both people and animals.

Getting rid of it takes care and determination. The recommended approach is to cover the plant with a plastic bag so the seeds don’t scatter, then dig it up — roots and all. Leaving even a small trace can give it another chance to grow, spread, and take over.

Anger can work the same way.

Feeling angry is unavoidable. Anger is a normal human emotion, and sometimes it alerts us that something is wrong. We may be responding to injustice, disappointment, betrayal, or hurt. The feeling itself isn’t necessarily the problem. The danger comes when we hold on to it—replaying the offense, feeding the resentment, and allowing anger to settle into our hearts.

Paul writes:

“In your anger do not sin”: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold.
—Ephesians 4:26–27

That word 'foothold' is worth noticing. A foothold may seem small, but it gives something a place to stand. And once anger has a place to stand, it can begin putting down roots.

Unresolved anger can spread into our conversations, relationships, and decisions. It can turn into bitterness, harsh words, suspicion, or a desire to hurt someone in return. Like an invasive weed, it begins crowding out healthier things like peace, compassion, patience, and joy.

So how do we remove it?

First, we may need to keep the seeds from scattering. That might mean pausing before we speak, refusing to post something in the heat of the moment, or stepping away until we can respond with wisdom. We don’t have to express every angry thought simply because we feel it.

But containing anger isn’t the same as removing it. Eventually, we have to dig beneath the surface.

What is at the root of our anger? Are we hurt? Afraid? Grieving? Feeling ignored or disrespected? Are we holding on to an offense because letting go feels like saying it didn’t matter?

Bringing those roots into the light can be uncomfortable, but God already sees them. We can be completely honest with Him. We can tell Him what happened, how deeply it hurt, and how difficult forgiveness feels.

Taking anger seriously may also mean creating healthy distance from situations or people who repeatedly trigger it. It may require more time in prayer and meditation on Scripture. It may mean talking with a trusted pastor, wise friend, or professional therapist. 

Anger will show up in our lives, just as weeds show up in a garden. But we don’t have to water it. We don’t have to protect it. And we certainly don’t have to give it a permanent place to grow.

With God’s help, we can deal with it before it takes over—carefully, honestly, and all the way down to the roots.

One tells me how much I have in my retirement account. 

Another tells me my lifetime giving to a particularly beautiful mission that helps poor people in the name of Jesus.

One of those numbers goes up and sometimes down, based on the vicissitudes of the stock market. Even as it has gone up generally, I realize I’m not guaranteed to see this money. I may not live to use it. Or, has happened in history, the world may have an economic meltdown or hyper-inflation that renders it useless. We don’t know. 

Who knows? Hopefully it’ll be worth what I need when the time comes, but we’re guaranteed nothing. 

That other number? It’s LOCKED-IN.  

Forever.  

I have it on authority from someone more trustworthy than any bank or federal government. 

Jesus really said this, specifically about giving to the poor. 

“Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will never fail, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Luke 12:33-34) 

This is wonderful news: While nothing is safe here (whether in the market or a lockbox or under the mattress) there really IS a way to keep our money secure: by giving to the poor in the name of everlasting Lord. 

It’s not hard to understand, though we might want to make it complex (and then avoid actually doing it.) 

What a wonderful investment opportunity.

That doesn’t mean meaningful relationships haven’t formed.

I’ve developed some genuine bonds with my bonus daughters. I prefer the word “bonus” because “step” has always sounded more like distance than relationship to me.

I remember the first time one of my bonus daughters said, “I love you.” That was a pretty big deal to me. Not because I was trying to replace anyone or earn a particular title, but because it showed that something real had grown between us.

Those relationships may not follow a traditional family blueprint, but they still matter deeply to me.

We also have one child under 22, and that relationship can sometimes be challenging. I’m not trying to replace a father, but that can make it difficult to know where my role begins and ends.

When should I speak up? When should I step back? Which lines are appropriate to cross—and which ones aren’t mine to cross at all?

Those questions don’t always have clear answers.

There are times when I wonder whether I’m making any difference. I believe I can be a positive role model, but the evidence isn’t always immediately visible. When your advice seems unheard or your example appears unnoticed, it’s easy to question your effectiveness.

But being a role model doesn’t always produce immediate results.

Sometimes your job is simply to remain steady.

You care. You listen. You respect the boundaries. You continue showing what love, patience, responsibility and character look like—even when no one appears to be taking notes.

There may be no breakthrough conversation or emotional moment confirming that you handled everything correctly. In blended families, progress can be quiet, complicated and nearly impossible to measure.

Then, occasionally, someone tells you they love you—and you realize that something meaningful has been growing after all.

I’m learning that I don’t have to force every relationship into a traditional definition. I can love someone without replacing anyone. I can offer guidance without controlling the outcome. I can remain available without demanding closeness on my timetable.

Maybe the family never blends as completely as we hoped. Maybe some relationships always retain visible seams.

Seams aren’t necessarily evidence of failure. Sometimes they simply show where different lives have been joined together.

If you’re navigating your own blended family and wondering whether your presence matters, keep showing up with love and integrity. You may not see the impact today—or even anytime soon.

But quiet consistency may matter more than you know.

As I get closer to meeting our little one, I find myself thinking about all the things I can't control. Will I be a good mom? Will labor go well? Am I ready for such a big life change? Some days, those questions feel louder than I'd like to admit.

Then I feel a little kick.

I've never seen my baby face to face. I don't know what he or she looks like yet. I don't know their personality or the sound of their cry. But I already love this little person with my whole heart.

Isn't faith a little like that?

Hebrews 11:1 says, "Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see."

Every day, I'm trusting in something I can't yet see. I'm preparing a nursery for someone I've never met. I'm praying over a future I can't predict. I'm making room in my heart and in my home because I know someone precious is coming. It reminds me that this is exactly how God often asks us to live.

We don't always get to see what's ahead. We don't know how every prayer will be answered or how every situation will work out. Sometimes we're asked to trust Him long before we understand His plan.

Maybe you're waiting too. Maybe you're waiting for healing, for a job, for restored relationships, for financial breakthrough, or simply for peace in the middle of a difficult season.

Waiting can feel uncomfortable. It can make us question whether God is working at all. But just because we can't see what He's doing doesn't mean He isn't moving.

Just as my baby is growing every single day (even on the days I don't notice a change), God is working in ways we often can't see. He is preparing, growing, shaping, and making all things ready in His perfect timing.

I've learned that faith isn't about having all the answers. It's about trusting the One who does.

So today, if you're in a season of waiting, don't lose heart. Keep praying. Keep trusting. Keep believing that God is working behind the scenes.

One day, you'll look back and realize that while you were waiting... God was growing something beautiful. And His timing has always been worth trusting.

WOW!

Are we not just a bunch of toddlers walking around complaining? 

Just last night, my 4 year old, Noah, was asking me for chips and then candy and then pretzels and then ice cream all 5 minutes before dinner was going to be ready. I kept saying, "not now, we're about to eat dinner." And he kept getting so mad at me but I knew if he ate a snack then he wouldn't eat his dinner. I was just trying to help him make a good choice and get a good healthy meal.

My 1 year old, Brielle, is super mobile now and she's obsessed with my stairs. But because I want her to be safe, I don't let her climb them unless I'm with her. When I take that sweet little baby off the steps, she turns into a wild animal thrashing about and tantrum-ing. She doesn't see it as me protecting her, she sees it as me preventing her from doing what she wants to do.

The truth is that God is good, He loves us more than we can imagine, He wants the best for us. But sometimes, we get set on something that we want, a goal we want to achieve, a path that we want to go down. But God sees the big picture, He understands ever outcome and sometimes what we want isn't actually going to be good for us. Isaiah 55:9 says, "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts."

It's really hard when God says no to us, but what we can trust, is that even a "no" from God is better than a "yes" from the world. In Jeremiah 29:11 it says, "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." He wants good for us. He IS GOOD. 

So the next time you get upset because things didn't go the way you had hoped they would, think about when you were little and your earthly caretaker said "no" for your good. Or the last time you said "no" to your own kids for their good. There is something better for you on the other side of that "no." We just need to trust and have faith. 

I speak from experience, by the way. My husband and I are in a situation that, if I'm honest, breeds an overwhelming amount of panic inside of me. It is quite easy for me to lose myself in the what-ifs rather than concentrate on the but-GODs, even though I know perfectly well He has always come through for me in the past.

If that's where you are, here's an affirmation for us both. I need you to say this out loud, and I need you to say it with your whole chest:

I have a BIG God who can do BIG miracles!

Jeremiah 32:27 says, "Behold, I am the Lord, the God of all flesh. Is anything too hard for Me?"

The answer is a resounding, "NO." There is nothing too difficult for our God. There is nothing too big for our God. There is nothing too impossible for our God. We have a BIG God who can do BIG miracles, and He is already hard at work on yours!

So, when that voice tries to creep in and pull your attention towards your big problem, you remind that voice that a big solution is already in the works.

One more time, out loud, for good measure: I have a BIG God who can do BIG miracles!

As I walked past the pile of junk, I thought to myself about how terrible and ungrateful the people are who would do something like that, especially here in such a beautiful place. 

Later, when I returned to my car after some time at the beach, I noticed a woman walking toward the pile of trash. She was carrying a ukulele and wearing a long, flowing, purple skirt - as one does on the beach in Oregon. 

To my amazement, this lovely, free-spirited woman went over to the pile of trash and cleaned it up! 

I felt so grateful that people like her exist. People who are willing to make the world a better place, even if it means (as it so often does) cleaning up after other people’s messes. 

I also felt kind of ashamed that I didn’t think to do the same thing. I was more than willing to spend time feeling superior to the people who made the mess, but what good does that do? 

As we prepare to celebrate the 250th birthday of the USA, it might be a good time to reflect on our own contribution to this land that we love. 

I’ve heard a lot of conversations and arguments over the past decade about what makes America great, but I wonder how many of us have spent any time working on being a great American?

I know I can do better. 
 

“You mean copy and paste your text and ask for pointers on how to make it better?” I
asked, after admittedly staring at her in shock for about 45 seconds.

“No,” she replied. “It can write it for you. I just tell it what to say in my voice. I’ve done it
before. That way I don-“

“THAT’S CRAZY!” I interrupted with a forceful exclamation that seemed to shock both of
us, “Why would you do that?”

“You don’t understand,” she said with true sincerity, “Words aren’t hard for you.”
She’s right. Lord knows I have a ton of personal problems, but using words is not one of
them.

But I hope you know your voice matters. Your words matter, the way you would say
them, as imperfect as that may be.

I’m afraid we may be losing the ability to communicate with each other. In my heart, I
believe we are far better served by awkward interactions than having our every word,
thought, and confrontation managed by ChatGPT like a press secretary.

I'm not anti-AI in general. My spelling is genuinely awful, so I always appreciate help
with that. But do I need that when just talking to a friend?

I guess what I'm saying is that true relationship is not built in perfection but in the
imperfections. The openness. The brokenness. The times we let people see us weak,
vulnerable, and flawed. That's where genuine connection happens.

I would also argue, based on 2 Corinthians 12:9, that the weak places are also where
God's grace shines, and HE gets the glory.

So, have the awkward conversation with your friend or loved one. Face to face. See
them. Let them see and hear you. Relating beyond the screen, as imperfect as it may
be, is far better for us. If that’s not possible, pay them the kindness of hearing your own
words from your heart.

Please know I’m not bashing you or AI (well, maybe AI a little).

I just want you to know that the real you is needed. God made a special place on this
earth that only your voice and words can fill.

Use your words while you have them.

-Producer Sherri

Can you imagine the feelings these men and women must have experienced in that moment? I'm guessing it was a combination of joy, disbelief, relief, grief, and perhaps even anger that freedom had been theirs by law, yet withheld from them for so long. I imagine some stood stunned beneath the weight of it: the life they had prayed for, longed for, and maybe feared to hope for had finally been spoken aloud.

I can't help but make a connection between the celebration of Juneteenth, and the gift of freedom offered to each one of us by Jesus. It makes me question if I'm living in the freedom already declared over my life.

Scripture tells us that Jesus came to proclaim freedom to the captives, to break the chains of sin and shame, and to invite the weary into His rest. Through His life, death, and resurrection, Jesus has declared liberty over all who trust in Him. And yet, many of us still live as though we are bound.

We carry shame that He has already forgiven. We strive to earn love that He has already freely given. We bow beneath the heavy yoke of religious legalism, trying to prove ourselves worthy, when Jesus has invited us to take His yoke instead; a yoke that is easy, a burden that is light. We may know with our heads that Christ has set us free, but our hearts can still live in captivity to fear, performance, guilt, or the expectations of others.

Juneteenth is a celebration of freedom finally received and lived. It reminds us that freedom must not only be declared; it must be believed, embraced, and walked in.

So, this Juneteenth, as we celebrate the true end of slavery in the United States, it might be a good time to ask the Holy Spirit to reveal where we are still living in bondage, to give us the strength to surrender every chain Jesus already broke, and to live as those set free by Christ. Free, indeed.

It’s simple: we go around the conference table and share one “win” from the past week. Maybe it was a project that came together, an encouraging conversation with a listener, a goal that was reached, or one small moment where we thought, “Hey, that went well!”

Then comes the wisdom part. We also share something that was harder - a mistake, a challenge, a moment that didn’t go quite the way we hoped - but taught us something valuable.

And honestly? That second part may be our favorite.

Because life isn’t just about getting everything right. It’s about growing, laughing when we can, giving ourselves grace, and letting God use even the messy moments to shape us.

This might be a fun dinner-table tradition for your family, too. Try asking: “What was one win from your week?” and “What’s one thing you learned the hard way?”

You may be surprised by the stories that come out, and the encouragement that follows. Your kids may be surprised to hear that you make mistakes, too. 

In a world that demands so much from us, it’s important to celebrate both the victory laps and the learning curves. Both can be gifts.

The weird thing about seasonal allergies is that it’s not really the pollen that causes the problem directly, but the body’s overreaction to the pollen that leads to the itching, sneezing, watery-eyed misery. 

It’s hard to believe that such a teeny-tiny thing can cause so many people so much misery!  

But, when you think about it, it’s often the little things in life that cause us the most stress. Remember the book, “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff…and it’s all Small Stuff?"  According to the book, most of the things that cause people major stress and angst turn out to be relatively small problems that we respond to poorly. 

Unfortunately, like the air in the Valley right now, life is full of these tiny irritants. If we aren’t careful, they can build up causing us major stress and unhappiness. 

How do we avoid stressing out over life’s day-to-day problems?  Richard Carlson, the author of “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff” recommends that we focus on: serving other people, avoiding perfectionism, and practicing patience.  

I've also found that making time for solitude and prayer is essential for dealing with the things that stress me out.

Finally, remember this promise from Philippians 4:6-7 (NIV) 

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, 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 your minds in Christ Jesus.”

God Bless You! (a-choo!)
 

During my trip, I visited Neskowin Beach. It's along the Tillamook Coast, not far from Lincoln City. Neskowin is famous for its towering sea stack called Proposal Rock, and its collection of eerie tree stumps only visible at low tide, known as the Neskowin Ghost Forest. 

As much as I love sleeping in, especially on a weekend getaway, I got up early so I could get to the beach at low tide and have the best chance of seeing these normally submerged tree trunks. Thankfully, there was a "minus tide" that morning, meaning that low tide was lower than usual. 

This lower-than-low-tide did not disappoint. The ocean had receded far enough that I was able to walk all the way around Proposal Rock. It also left in its wake sea caves, cliff edges, and tide pools full of little hermit crabs, bright green sea anemones, purple and orange starfish, and millions of barnacles and mussels. 

And, thankfully with the tide pulled back, I found a handful of those ancient, barnacle encrusted tree stumps emerging from the wet sand.

Scientists have different opinions about how these 2000+ year old trees ended up underwater. 

Some believe that it happened suddenly when the last major earthquake hit off the Oregon Coast in 1700. Others think it happened more gradually as sand dunes shifted and slowly engulfed this section of forest. Either way, the stubby remains of these once towering trees are now preserved by the briny ocean water, a reminder of what used to be and is no more. 

What used to be and is no more. 

As I looked closely at these tree stumps, I was reminded that nothing is permanent. 

The really hard seasons - times of grief, pain, anxiety, sickness - they don't last forever, which gives us a reason to hope and persist. 

The really good times don't last either, which is gives us a reason to be fully present and grateful for every moment. 

Take heart and choose hope my friend, this too shall pass.

If you’ve been feeling mentally tired, emotionally stretched, or simply running low on motivation lately, this short devotional is a gentle reminder that God’s strength meets us in real life, not just our best moments. Read the full devotional from Truth For Life here.

What stands out most is not just the numbers—it’s the humanity behind them. People like Kenny Ricketts, who went from sleeping outside to finding housing and full-time work in just a few weeks, are reminders that hope often grows through practical care and consistent support. The work happening in Gresham shows that communities can hold both compassion and accountability together while creating safer, healthier spaces for everyone.

At a time when many people feel exhausted by difficult headlines, this story offers something quieter but deeply needed: evidence that patient, grounded service can still change lives. Progress may not always come through dramatic moments or big promises. Sometimes it comes through small teams showing up every day, treating people with dignity, and refusing to believe anyone is beyond hope.

If you’ve been looking for something simple, sweet, and a little out of the ordinary to do with your kids… this might be it.

The Oregon Zoo just welcomed two brand-new Humboldt penguin chicks—and right now, they’re basically tiny, fuzzy bundles of curiosity. Unlike the sleek black-and-white penguins we’re used to seeing, these little ones are still covered in soft gray fluff, wobbling around as they figure out their world. It’s one of those rare windows where nature feels up close and personal—and honestly, kind of magical in a quiet, low-key way.

What makes this even better is how easy it is to turn into a memory. You don’t need a big, complicated plan. Just a day where you pack some snacks, maybe grab a coffee on the way, and let your kids experience something new. Watching animals grow—even something as small as a penguin chick—has a way of slowing things down a bit. It gives everyone a chance to just be present together, without pressure.

And if your life has felt a little full lately (because whose hasn’t?), this kind of outing hits a different note. It’s not loud or overwhelming. It’s simple. It’s peaceful. It’s the kind of thing that lets you breathe while your kids are wide-eyed and fully in it.

This article offers a steady, faith-centered perspective for what to do in that space. Instead of rushing decisions or reacting out of panic, it encourages you to slow down, stay grounded in your faith, and focus on what you can control. As the article reminds us, “you can’t control your spouse’s choices—but you can control your own response.” That kind of clarity can bring a small but meaningful sense of peace in a situation that feels anything but peaceful.

If you’re walking through this right now, you don’t have to have everything figured out today. There is still hope, even here. Take a moment to read more and find encouragement for your next step forward.

Today is Good Friday.

And if you’re like me, there’s a weight to today. Maybe you’ve heard the story so many times, but it still stops you for a second—what Jesus walked through, what He carried, what it cost.

And at the same time… life is still happening.

The emails didn’t stop. The schedule didn’t clear. The same stress is still there. That health issue, that relationship, the financial pressure—it’s all still sitting right where it was yesterday.

And it can leave you quietly wondering:
If this is such a big, world-changing moment… why does everything still feel the same?

Because today—before the celebration, before the empty tomb—this is the hard part of the story.

This is the day where it looks like loss.
Where hope feels quiet.
Where things don’t make sense yet.

And honestly? That’s a place we know pretty well.

Because even now, 2,000 years later, life can still feel heavy. Jesus actually told us it would: “In this world you will have trouble.”

So if today feels a little heavy, or unresolved, or just… a lot—you’re not doing it wrong.

You’re standing right in the middle of the story.

But here’s what matters: this isn’t the end of it.

Good Friday reminds us that God meets us in the hard, not just after it.
That He understands suffering, not from a distance—but personally.
That when you’re carrying more than you want to admit… He’s not unaware of that weight.

And even though today feels quiet… Sunday is coming.

The resurrection hasn’t happened yet in the story—but it’s already promised.

So maybe today isn’t about trying to feel upbeat or fixed.
Maybe it’s just about staying close.

Taking a breath.
Letting Him sit with you in whatever you’re carrying.
Trusting that even if nothing looks different today… something bigger is already in motion.

Because this story doesn’t end in Friday.

And neither does yours.

When my cousin’s daughter Zoey was about five years old, she took a trip to Yellowstone National Park. When she got back, she couldn’t wait to tell everyone about what she saw—especially the buffalo.

She talked about the adorable, teeny-tiny buffalo.

Of course, the buffalo weren’t tiny at all. They’re massive. But because you have to view them from a safe distance, they looked small to her… so that’s what she believed.

Honestly, I get that.

Because sometimes, the distance between us and other people does the same thing. It shrinks them. Not physically—but in how we understand them.

I can think of more than a few times I’ve made assumptions about someone without ever really getting close enough to see the full picture. And if I’m honest, I wonder how often people have done the same to me.

It’s human nature. We fill in the gaps when we don’t have the full story.

That might be why the Bible speaks so often about judgment—not to shame us, but to gently remind us there’s usually more going on than we can see from a distance.

So maybe today isn’t about getting it perfect.

Maybe it’s just about taking one small step closer.

Choosing curiosity over assumption.
Choosing presence over distance.
Choosing to see people as more than what we first thought.

Because most of the time… they are.

107.9, and her story is just as powerful as her music. After growing up in a difficult and unstable environment, Carly’s life changed when her older brother and his wife welcomed her into their home and introduced her to Jesus. Years later, after graduating from college, she found herself wrestling with anxiety about the future and wondering what God had planned next. That season led her to write “Why Should I Worry,” a song inspired by Jesus’ words in Matthew 6 about the birds of the air and the lilies of the field—reminders that our Heavenly Father knows what we need. If your mind has been racing lately or life feels a little overwhelming, take a moment and press play on the video below. This song is a beautiful reminder that God is still the One who lifts our burdens, calms our anxieties, and stays faithful through it all.

You’ll be hearing this beautiful song on Hope 107.9—watch the video below and take a moment with it.
 

It’s called Imposter Syndrome.

It’s that quiet voice that whispers, “You don’t really belong here.”

Maybe you’ve felt it at work. Maybe in a room full of capable people where everyone else seems confident and put together.

You wonder if somehow you slipped in by accident.

And sooner or later… someone will notice.

That feeling doesn’t just show up in work or everyday life. It can creep into our faith too.

You walk into church. People seem steady. Peaceful. Confident in their relationship with God.

And you think, They’ve figured it out.

But inside, you may feel like you’re still struggling. Still learning. Still trying to grow.

The truth is, following Jesus has never meant having everything perfectly together.

The Bible is surprisingly honest about that.

Many of the people God used most powerfully were people who felt unsure of themselves. Moses doubted his ability to lead. Peter made mistakes. Even the apostle Paul openly admitted that he depended on God’s strength because his own strength wasn’t enough.

Paul wrote these words that still bring comfort today:

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
— 2 Corinthians 12:9

That means the moments when we feel imperfect, tired, or unsure aren’t disqualifiers.

They’re often the places where God’s grace shows up most clearly.

Being a Christian doesn’t mean pretending to be someone we’re not. It means learning, slowly and imperfectly, to live from who we already are in Christ.

Scripture reminds us that when we belong to Jesus, something real has changed in us:

“If anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come.”
— 2 Corinthians 5:17

We may still have struggles. We may still have days where faith feels difficult.

But those struggles are not our identity.

God sees something deeper in us — a life being shaped, renewed, and strengthened by Him.

So if you’ve ever felt like you don’t quite measure up…
like you’re still figuring out your faith…
like everyone else seems a little farther along…

You’re not alone.

And you’re not an imposter.

You’re simply someone God is still lovingly working on — just like the rest of us.

It feels personal.

That’s because it is.

Roger Tofte, the creator of Enchanted Forest in Turner, passed away peacefully on February 13, 2026, at the age of 96. What he built — quite literally with his own hands — continues to welcome families more than five decades later.

In the 1960s, Roger was simply a father of four with a dream. He wanted to create a place where his children could experience wonder. With limited resources but steady determination, he bought a wooded hillside south of Salem and began building fairy-tale scenes by hand. Evenings. Weekends. Small payments on the land. Repairing watches on the side to fund the project.

It took seven years.

When Enchanted Forest opened on August 8, 1971, just 75 people walked through the gates. Today, it remains one of Oregon’s most beloved destinations — still family-owned, still thoughtfully maintained, still carrying the handcrafted charm Roger insisted on.

What makes his story meaningful isn’t just the creativity. It’s the heart behind it.

He wasn’t chasing fame.
He was building joy for his children.

And in doing that, he created a place where countless other families would make memories of their own.

Three generations of the Tofte family now carry that work forward. Every carved figure and winding path reflects something steady and familiar — a father’s quiet devotion expressed through hard work.

And that’s a story many of us understand.

Maybe you didn’t build a theme park.
Maybe it was a treehouse.
A backyard project.
A late-night science fair display.
A costume sewn after everyone else went to bed.

Love often looks like effort no one applauds.

As we remember Roger Tofte, we honor not only the man who built Enchanted Forest — but every parent who has poured time, patience, and creativity into something meant simply to see their child smile.

If you visit Enchanted Forest this year, take a moment at the entrance. Notice the details. Remember how it all began.

And maybe whisper a quiet thank you — for the kind of love that builds things meant to last.

I love watching ice skating in the Winter Olympics. The sparkles. The drama. The way they spin like gravity is just a suggestion. I’m in awe every time.

And then there are the commentators. They’ll watch a skater glide across the ice with superhuman strength and grace… and gently note, “Mmm, slight wobble on the landing.” A slight wobble? Most of us would have fallen, taken out a judge, and needed medical attention.

I know they’re doing their job. They’re experts. They’re helping the rest of us understand the technical side of things. But sometimes it makes me think.

Because I already have a commentator in my head.

You too?

That little voice that narrates the day: “You could’ve handled that better.” “Why did you say that?” “Well, that wasn’t your best.” Sometimes I even confuse that voice with God’s voice — like He’s up there with a clipboard, rating my performance and deducting points for every imperfect landing.

Growth is good. Self-awareness is healthy. But beating ourselves up? Being our own harshest critic? That rarely produces beautiful things in our lives. It usually just produces fear.

Here’s the truth: God is not a cold, detached commentator.

“The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.” — Zephaniah 3:17

He’s not circling your flaws. He’s delighting in you. Rejoicing over you. Singing.

The next time that inner commentator starts deducting points, pause for a moment. Ask yourself: does this sound like love… or like fear?

Friend, that’s the voice we can trust.

She had fought melanoma for nearly two years. More than a dozen surgeries. Targeted brain treatments. Scans that kept bringing news we didn’t want to hear. It spread to her lungs. It spread to her brain. One doctor told us he had never seen it move so quickly.

What made it even harder was this: just five months earlier, we believed she had beaten it. We had celebrated. We had exhaled. We thought we were stepping back into normal life.

And then everything changed again.

By that final weekend, we knew we were near the end.

The night before she passed was our oldest daughter’s winter formal.

Sherrill was already in the hospital, exhausted from treatments that had taken her strength — and her hair. But all day Saturday she kept saying one thing:

“Make sure I have my stocking hat on.”

She wanted to look like Mom when her daughter walked in.

That night our daughter came to the hospital in her dress before heading to the dance. Sherrill stayed awake for her. I truly believe the Holy Spirit sustained her for that moment. She saw her. She smiled. She gave her the best hug she could. And she watched her leave for one of those milestone nights.

About twelve hours later, she slipped into a coma.

The room was incredibly still. I could hear her mom's muffled cries down the hallway. A few days earlier, her dad had brought her hot McDonald’s French fries because she loved them. Those small, ordinary acts of love somehow felt enormous in that space.

She lay in her hospital bed, and I sat right beside her, holding her hand, just saying, “I love you.” Over and over.

Our marriage wasn’t a fairy tale. We had ordinary struggles. We disappointed each other at times. We sometimes lived out our love imperfectly. But it was a partnership. A chosen love. Built day by day.

And in that moment, none of the small stuff mattered.

What surprised me most was what I felt.

There was grief — deep grief. I was losing my wife. Our kids were losing their mom. But underneath the sorrow was something steady. A calm I can’t fully explain.

What I saw on her face was peace. Even joy.

It felt like the presence of God filled that room. Almost like heaven was close.

That evening, I wrote a social media post. It’s still one of the most raw things I’ve ever shared publicly. I typed through tears about the joy on her face… about the overwhelming comfort in my heart… about how it felt like the Spirit of the living God was preparing to bring her home.

I grew up in a Christian home. I didn’t have a dramatic story of rebellion and rescue.

But those final hours became my testimony.

I have never experienced the peace and joy of Jesus so powerfully.

The Bible talks about a peace that passes understanding. I always believed that was true. But that weekend, I lived it.

Peace didn’t remove the pain. It didn’t make the goodbye easy.

But it steadied us.

There was grief because we would miss her deeply. And there was a celebration because we knew what she was about to experience. Somehow, both were present at the same time.

If you are walking through something heavy right now — especially if you thought the worst was behind you — I want you to know this:

God is not distant in those rooms.

He is present.

And sometimes, when you least expect it, He gives a calm that makes no earthly sense.

I saw it.
I felt it.
And I will never forget it.

Scott Michaels is a husband, dad, and follower of Jesus who has learned that faith often becomes clearest in life’s hardest moments. He shares honestly about grief, hope, and the steady presence of God in ordinary life. He serves as the General Manager at Hope 107.9 and AM 790 KWIL.