Suzanne Schaffer

A good friend posted an update online and I was able to read between the lines. I sent a quick text to check on her and she replied, "It's not my story to tell..." Using wisdom, she asked for prayer without giving any details. At all. And that's okay. In fact, it's more than okay. It's a sign of maturity. It reminded me of a situation I found myself in a few years ago. We had a guest speaker at church who invited everyone to the front for special prayer after he spoke. We lined up, waiting our turn. Some were singing, some were quietly praying, some were worshiping, some were...gossiping? At first I couldn't believe what was happening right next to me. We were at the altar, waiting to receive a blessing or healing from God, and they were gossiping about someone who wasn't there that day. I didn't want to correct them. I tried to reason myself out of it. I asked God to have someone else do it. But He wouldn't let me go.  I hate confro

I've been avoiding this topic for six months, since my daughter married and moved out. Leaving us with the new normal known as the empty nest.  The first few weeks were the most difficult and I found myself roaming the house, tears streaming my face. I wailed and screamed one day. I would've torn my clothes if I'd known how (let's be honest, I also didn't want to ruin a perfectly good tee). I found myself in the middle of a grief I wasn't expecting.  The night sounds were gone. The Bachelor wasn't on my TV screen anymore. Taylor Swift's voice echoing through the house was gone. The fragrance of her perfume evaporated.  "What's for dinner, mom?" "Want to go to TJ Maxx?" The choreography of living together for nearly twenty-one years stretched thin like an old rubber band and now there's silence in this home as she's off learning the dance of life with someone else. It was hard when our son left for school