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Writer. Teacher. Scripture-Digger.

Dear fellow Scripture-diggers,

You did it.  You made it through nine weeks of digging, chewing, confronting, praying, and worshiping.  I just realized that my scheduling was off and this post wasn’t published when it should have been.  I just shook my head when I saw that, and smiled.  Because something like that always has to happen, right?

I feel like I want to quietly tip-toe out of the internet-room to leave you to bask in His holy after-glow.  To reflect on the last three months.  Where you were when you started and just how far you’ve come.  And I’m not sure that I have the words proper to wrap this thing up.  Other than this: those dark seasons – the ones that leave you wrestling with all the things we’ve spent the last nine weeks exploring?  You will survive them.  Because His story for you is good.  Riveting.  Sometimes hard to watch.  Sometimes too good to be true.  But it is always good.

I want to end our time together with one last reminder, in the video below.  Because there are always Treasures of Darkness to be found in the land of the living.

Always.

Thank you again, a million times over for journeying alongside me.  And for your patience today with this last post.

this week in review

Rather than a day-by-day recap, I’d love to hear your overall thoughts about this week.  What struck you?  What made you think?  What overwhelmed you with the understanding of His absolute sovereignty?

One Last Thing:

Now that you’re finished, how did God reveal Himself to you over the course of this study?  What ways did you expect?  In what ways did He surprise you?  How are you leaving this study changed?  Leave your notes in the comments below.  I can’t wait to read them.

xo,

Jane

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Went sent our baby girl off to kindergarten this morning, alongside her big 1st and 3rd-grade brothers. But, as many of you know with this youngest baby milestone, it’s not just sending her off. It’s tying up the bow on toddlerhood and the years of baby-raising and little ones and three hours of sleep and fighting for every nap.

We’ve potty-trained, paci-weaned, ditched car seats for boosters, and learned to swim. It’s been nearly nine years of not knowing what the heck I’m doing alongside middle-of-the-night research, gut instinct following, endless desperate prayer for wisdom, and peeling clinging arms off of my neck because I know they are braver than they think they are.

That baby girl? She was the clingiest of all. All of preschool was marked by tearful drop-offs and swift exits. And this morning, in a brand new school with no one she knew, she showed me just how much she grew in the last year. She walked right into her classroom, sat in her chair, gave me a smile, and began to color.
I, as you might expect, cried the moment I climbed into my empty car. I expected that. I didn’t expect to see my tiny little fluff of a bird fly today. To see her so big. So confident. So fearless. So beautiful. But she puffed her chest and spread her wings the way that I always knew she could, and in her own little perfect, kindergartener timing.

If you need me, I’ll be basking in the silence of my clean home until further notice (or, at least, until 2:45 pickup).

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Open post by jane_johnson with ID 18317700514242998
Went sent our baby girl off to kindergarten this morning, alongside her big 1st and 3rd-grade brothers. But, as many of you know with this youngest baby milestone, it’s not just sending her off. It’s tying up the bow on toddlerhood and the years of baby-raising and little ones and three hours of sleep and fighting for every nap. We’ve potty-trained, paci-weaned, ditched car seats for boosters, and learned to swim. It’s been nearly nine years of not knowing what the heck I’m doing alongside middle-of-the-night research, gut instinct following, endless desperate prayer for wisdom, and peeling clinging arms off of my neck because I know they are braver than they think they are. That baby girl? She was the clingiest of all. All of preschool was marked by tearful drop-offs and swift exits. And this morning, in a brand new school with no one she knew, she showed me just how much she grew in the last year. She walked right into her classroom, sat in her chair, gave me a smile, and began to color. I, as you might expect, cried the moment I climbed into my empty car. I expected that. I didn’t expect to see my tiny little fluff of a bird fly today. To see her so big. So confident. So fearless. So beautiful. But she puffed her chest and spread her wings the way that I always knew she could, and in her own little perfect, kindergartener timing. If you need me, I’ll be basking in the silence of my clean home until further notice (or, at least, until 2:45 pickup).

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