We Have This Hope

If March was a person, I’d have a lot to say to her.

Over the years she’s been a breezy friend arriving with the promise of travel abroad, a blooming backyard, and even once a new baby who would delight us all 9 months later. She’s also been a sneaky you-know-what heralding a deep grief that still stings fresh every year.

Who are you, March? No wonder Shakespeare told us to beware your ides.

The reality is March has always had much to teach me about how beauty and sorrow coexist. It’s the month where the traces of ash on my forehead get a glow up—both literally on Ash Wednesday and metaphorically in my inner life. If grief has taught me anything—if the last nine Marches since my sister died have taught me anything—it’s that as much I despise my ashes, I also can’t live without them.

I need them to remember what’s happening in my garden. I need them to make sense of what’s happening in our world. And I need them to explain how the ache in my heart can hold hands with the burning in my chest that says this will one day be made newer than I can dare to dream.

Last night we were reading in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe with our kids and it came to the scene where Lucy asks Aslan if there is anything more that can be done to rescue her brother Edmund. Aslan’s response jolted me to attention: “All shall be done, but it may be harder than you think.” If there has ever been a sentence that captured the essence of March for me, this is it. Even with its emphasis on hard, this lion-breathed truth reminds me ALL shall be done—not some, but all. Good will fully prevail. Spring will come again. The earth will be renewed. Even death will die.

This is March and here are the things I don’t want to forget…

#1…Musicals and kids growing outside of our grip.

This month I joined the ranks of countless mothers before me who have successfully and unsuccessfully attempted to harness annoying mom energy when their child participates in an activity that they absolutely love. Our oldest daughter performed in her first musical and I subsequently earned a degree in playing it cool. Outwardly, I am a chill mom who knows a little about theater because of the plays I did in high school. Inwardly, I am Sutton Foster belting out Broadway tracks like I own the stage and wondering if I somehow missed my calling. I kid—the reality is I am a mediocre singer who loves singing and once in 2004 I had a lead role. What can I say? The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

The whole experience brought me joy, not just because I love musical theater or that I know a little bit about the world of tech week, dress rehearsals, stage makeup, and call times, but because our girl found something that delighted her and she walked confidently into it. All parents possess some natural curiosity about what our kids are like when we aren’t around. Are they conversing? Are they being kind? Are they putting themselves out there—and oh goodness, are they doing that with the right people? She spent more time away from us during this activity than any other thing in her little life and every time I dropped her off I fought the urge to linger just a few more minutes as she settled into the dressing room. I’m good, Mom—her eyes said so I would take the hint and leave.

On the evening of her first performance, I fought back tears watching her showcase all that she had been learning in the hours she wasn’t home. I marveled in the things she executed that we hadn’t taught her—choreography, cues, expressions—all of them metaphors for the ways she’s growing into a beautiful person who takes input from more than me and her dad. The truth is she was better for it. And while I know that may not always be the case, this time the loosening of our grip—and the vulnerability it cost me—paved the way for her to shine.

She walked away from her weeks of rehearsals with what can only be described (and affectionately so) as a “camp high.” These are my best friends forever and we’ll never lose touch and we’ll always have each other and even though we don’t have phones, we’ll write to each other every week and I can’t wait to do this again next year. IYKYK, right? Coincidentally, we walked away with an “our kid did something hard and good and they loved it” high…so I guess we’ll be signing up for next year.

Maybe I’ll come out of retirement for this one.

#2…the month of March 93 times with a good attitude.

I only have one living grandparent and this month he turned 93.

Because we had the privilege of growing up around my grandparents, I have lifelong friends who know my Poppa well enough that even now they’re reading this and smiling because they’re remembering something quirky or funny he said during my formative years. Historically-speaking if I could pick one word to describe him, it would be jolly.

One time in high school a friend was complaining to me about mall-walkers. She worked retail at the local mall and bemoaned the general grumpiness of the people who exercised around her as she unlocked the gate of her store ahead of long days on her feet. “They always act like I’m in their way,” she said—pausing only for a second to reconsider her statement. “Except for one guy, he’s my friend. He always says ‘hello young lady!’’ Her last three words hit some kind of rewind button in my brain as I replayed all the times my Poppa—who at the time was deeply entrenched in the business of mall-walking—had greeted me with the same affection.

“I think that might be my grandpa,” I said casually.

A few weeks later my friend and I were at my house when I remembered the mall-walking story and realized a picture of my grandpa was sitting on the shelf. I snagged it from behind her and placed it in her hand. “That’s him!” she squealed.

At his party this weekend we gathered in his house—the same one that hasn’t changed a single bit since my grandma died 13 years ago—and we celebrated with a simple cake and ice cream. I can’t say from experience, but it seems to me that aging into your nineties isn’t for the faint of heart. Perhaps that’s why only a few do it. My once boisterous, active grandpa now leads a quiet life mostly in his chair and mostly on his own terms. But what age can do to the body, it can’t always do to the heart and in this instance, it has not robbed him of tender affection toward me and toward my kids. Every time I’m with him, the through line of our conversation is about how he is the luckiest man in the world. “You’re not a kiddin’” he’ll say and then pat my husband on the back as if to make sure Dustin knows what has been bequeathed to him—to make sure he knows a good thing when he’s got it.

I suppose the last thing to say is that if Poppa can live through the month of March 93 times and still come out saying he’s the most blessed man in the world, then I think we’ll make it too. Attitude is everything so they say…and I think he proves that’s true.

#3…things we learn from kids at the beach

The kids were in their bathing suits within seconds of arriving at the little beach condo we rented for a few days last week. I had imagined we might do reasonable things like “get settled” before going down to the beach, but I was heartily overruled. Why wouldn’t we throw our suits on and start running—tripping on our sandals, buckets in hand, and stop only long enough to argue over who will push the elevator button?

So that’s what we did.

Thankfully our condo was right on the beach so the kids truly could run downstairs, blitz past the pool, dodge a few leisurely beach goers, and be right on the sand. I snagged a sweatshirt because this was mid-March on the gulf coast and followed my people like the obedient mother that I am—skip the sunscreen tonight because we’re playing beat the clock with the sun and I wasn’t about to do battle with any shovel-wielding angry raccoons.

On the beach we were all business—Dustin and I snuggled up in one of those camp chair love seats as the kids were darting and digging and hollering with a kind of ocean-muffled delight. It was one of those magical moments where the ferocity of my kids’ play shifted into slow motion for me. They were operating on instinct and I was their adoring spectator. We finished the day eating ice cream, skipping showers, and reading together before all going to bed at the same time—details worth noting because once upon a time we had 2 infants and 3 year old. What even is this stage of life and how do I keep it forever?

I wonder what kids at the ocean have to teach us about delight. That’s really the thought I’m settling into as I preserve this precious beach day in the annals of my heart and mind. They possessed such a sense of urgency, such instinct, to get busy unlocking the majesty that is playing by an ocean and remembering how very big God must be. And yet this big-ness didn’t instill fear, but rather seemed to buoy them with confidence and curiosity. It’s worth pondering if that same childlike sense of play, the fearless kind that says I’m totally safe here, is still somewhere in me? Have I let adulthood stifle it? Watching my kids relish freedom, safety, and provision with their whole bodies makes me want to grab a shovel too. With just a little digging, I might find that version of Emily is still in there, waiting to be nurtured to the surface.

Perhaps the work for us to do is to once again take a cue from children—the Kingdom belongs to them after all, so why not mimic how they enjoy it. If our God is this vast, this majestic, this beautiful, then we must be so safe with him after all.

If you enjoy these essays, I have two fun things to tell you!

The first is that next week I’ll be sending out our first ever remembering collaboration called So We Won’t Forget—see what I did there? I’m delighted to be sharing the work of 3 other writers who have put remembering God’s work in their lives into practice. Keep an eye out for that!

Secondly, you can join us too. If you’re a writer who’d like to be a part of this discipline of remembering, take the next step by sending me a mini-essay to be featured in the So We Won’t Forget collaboration later this year. More on how to do that right here.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit wehavethishope.substack.com/subscribe

Before an episode makes it to your inbox, I’ve lived it, edited it, and usually re-listened to the entire thing. And while I can’t tell you honestly that post-production is my favorite thing, I can say that re-listening to these stories always blesses me.

I remember why I asked the guest in the first place.

I remember why their story is so compelling.

I remember that God is at work in each of us uniquely, tenderly, and purposefully.

Today’s story is from Kendall Vanderslice. She’s a baker, author, and generally wise human being. Her latest book Bake & Pray: Liturgies & Recipes for Baking Bread as a Spiritual Practice blends the practice of baking bread with prayer, a truly embodied process and one that she explains in the episode.

If you’re wondering how someone builds a career studying food and the way we eat around the table, Kendall will tell you it started with curiosity that God nurtured into calling. Her story and her resources are not only timely for the Advent season, but also a restful gift in the midst of hustle. I hope you’ll take a deep breath as you listen & share with a friend…maybe share with a friend over dinner together.

Here are a few more ways to connect with Kendall and the work she’s doing: Edible Theology, Instagram, Kendall’s Website.

It’s been a whole year since I relaunched We Have This Hope over on Substack and I have found this to be such a welcoming and wonderful place for my work to live. I'm going to take a little break for the holiday season so I can be present with my people AND so I can pray and dream about what is coming in 2025.

If you subscribe, if you comment, if you reply to the emails, if you mention it to me in passing, thank you! All those touch points add up to something I hold dearly in my heart and mind: the fact that God is using this in small and beautiful ways. Here’s to much more in 2025!

“May the favor of the Lord our God rest on us; establish the work of our hands for us— yes, establish the work of our hands.” Psalm 90:17, NIV

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Today I’m sharing my conversation with Sarah K. Butterfield, a fellow Substack enthusiast, a thoughtful writer, and generally lovely person. If we didn’t live so far from each other, I would have asked her to grab coffee. Instead I invited her to tell her story on the show and now I get to share it with you!

Sarah’s worn many hats—missionary kid in France, mother, educator, ministry leader—and along the way she’s continued to offer resources to women through her writing. She speaks about the intersection of motherhood and faith, the balance of spiritual practices amidst the busyness of a rich life, and how to deepen our personal theology as our faith grows.

Here’s a preview of something she said that’s stuck with me…

“I feel that women, especially women, need to be empowered, to take ownership of developing their faith. And one of the reasons for that is I think traditionally we've been left out of a lot of the theological conversations or in the Christian market. We are marketed to as Christianity lite it seems to me. Please don't get me wrong, I love all of the devotionals with beautiful packaging and full color illustrations, but sometimes I wonder if we're just consuming what is easily digestible.”

- Sarah K. Butterfield

You can find Sarah K. Butterfield right here on Substack or via her website which is full of resources for busy women wanting to grow in their faith!

You can find the full length episode in the Substack app, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you prefer to listen! 🎧🎙🤎

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This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit wehavethishope.substack.com/subscribe

I’d like to give a special shout out to my algorithm.

This time it served me well because its how I stumbled upon Mikella Van Dyke and the work of Chasing Sacred. To my total delight Mikella and her team are equipping women who want to study scripture for themselves and teaching a method that makes space for it to be simple and beautiful—a well that never runs dry, really. And like all ministries or missions, there’s an origin story that precedes the clearer nudges from God to get going.

Mikella’s is one of those.

It starts with a little girl hungry and curious with a hint of the grit it takes to find some answers. From a childhood spent overseas in Thailand to professional dancing in New York City to now raising five young kinds alongside her husband, Mikella’s story will remind you of what it looks like to pursue God with all of your heart in all of your seasons.

I can’t wait for you to listen!

Here’s how you can order Mikella’s book and connect her work at Chasing Sacred!

* Mikella’s Book: Chasing Sacred: Learn How to Study Scripture to Pursue God & Find Hope in Him

* Website: Chasing Sacred

* IG: Chasing Sacred

* IG: Mikella Van Dyke

If you’re new to We Have This Hope, we’re all about remembering the work of God in our lives and telling our stories. You’ll see that clearly in the stories we share via the podcast and the writing we share here on Substack.

This week I’ll be delivering an extra treasure to your inbox because its the end of the month when I practice what I preach. So I Won’t Forget…October 2024 will be out on Friday and promises to include tales about sparrows in NYC and a quote from the child who is most like me: “I don’t want to do it. I don’t feel good when I do it. I can’t help it. I get so mad…” This is my most popular series and one that delights me to write. Share it with a friend and practice with me!

What do you want to remember this month?

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I am so happy to be dropping this story in your inbox today.

You should know right away that this episode is not about disavowing technology use or cutting ourselves off from the world. What a terrible way to market a podcast or send an email that, chances are, you’re currently reading from your phone.

Its Hannah’s story and I can promise you that she’s a breath of fresh air in the conversation around balancing our technology use. Her book The Unplugged Hours: Cultivating a Life of Presence in a Digitally Connected World is the fruit of simply responding to a nudge from God to put her phone away one day. It’s about living our lives awake to God’s movement in the world rather than chasing content.

“You’ll have missed out on nothing, but gained something back instead: a piece of your time, a tiny sliver of your life. This is how your story will unfold—slowly one hour at a time.”

Since I finished her book, I’ve practiced putting my phone in a drawer for a little bit in the afternoons. It’s not much. I can still hear it when it pings. I know it’s there. But this small gesture has become an exercise in being present—to my kids, to my home, to myself, and to the small stirrings inside my own heart and mind that seem to say this is the way…

I hope you’ll consider listening to this today and even more that you’ll consider reading Hannah’s new book. It’s so balanced and wise. In the great irony of writing about limiting content consumption whilst promoting it, I’m going out on a limb here to say this one is worth your time.

Find Hannah at hannahbrencher.com or on Instagram, Facebook, and Pinterest.

Prefer to listen elsewhere? 🎧 Find the episode on Spotify or Apple Podcasts.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit wehavethishope.substack.com/subscribe

Have you ever read a poem and been moved in some way?

Those of us with a bent toward the creative will answer yes. If that’s not you, I’m willing to bet you can at least appreciate poetry from an intellectual standpoint as something beautiful that illuminates something else.

Poetry can take something really basic and leave you breathless. It can give meaning when the words of narrative seem a bit lacking. Take this stunning poem I found earlier in the week by Rachel Joy Welcher — if you’re a mom, you’ll find it impossible to read without stirring you up in a lovely way.

Today’s episode is a continuation in our conversation on storytelling. We’re diving in old-school to what Psalm 107 says, why it mattered, and why it still matters. I believe it’s a poem about telling our stories and I wonder if you might ponder it along with me.

It’s a short one for those of you who like to listen while you drive between here and there or do the dishes. Share your thoughts with me in the comments & enjoy!

Quick Show Notes:

Psalm 107 - Bible Gateway for NIV and Message Translation

Bible Project series on Biblical Poetry

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Welcome back to the podcast, friends!

I took the summer off from hosting guests because the only time I had to record sans kiddos was around 5AM and who wants to have that conversation? Not me and definitely not any potential guest. But it’s September now and it’s been a total delight to be sitting at my desk (after 8AM) preparing this beautiful episode for you today.

This season on We Have This Hope, you’re going to hear from some incredible women who will share their expertise, their passions, but mainly their stories—what God has done in their lives that’s anchored them to hope and carried them through seasons of love and loss. That’s what today’s conversation is about.

Sabrina McDonald is a gifted writer and speaker. For over 20 years she’s written about marriage and family, publishing works with Focus on the Family, FamilyLife and most recently releasing her book A Home Built from Love and Loss: Coming Together as a Blended Family. This book is such a beautiful blend of authentic storytelling and practical wisdom. Truly, I found myself thinking about it during the day and then re-telling portions of it to Dustin at night. That’s the true sign of a book I love.

In today’s episode Sabrina shares her story of being widowed as a young mom and how God carried her through a season of tremendous loss. She talks honestly about her journey into remarriage and blending families and ultimately how God has written her story in a way she never would have imagined. There’s something in this episode for everyone, I promise, so listen all the way to the end and tell a friend about it.

Find her book HERE.

Find her website HERE.

And as always, you can tune in directly from the Substack app, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen. :)

Next week on WHTH

Check your inboxes for the first article from our series on telling. We spent all summer exploring remembering, this Fall we’re diving into telling—what scripture says about telling our stories, how we do that and why it matters. Don’t miss it!

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I love this work—thinking deeply about what God is doing in the world and how we respond to that. But also the rubber has to meet the road occasionally. The things we analyze and inwardly process have to influence the habits of our daily lives otherwise what an incredible waste of resources.

On the heels of studying some Old Testament Hebrew words and knowing I’m about to bring you more thinking-deeply pieces, I’m itchy for some practicality. So today is all about how you can actually practice remembering as a spiritual discipline, how you can take this Biblical concept and implement it into the rhythms of waking up to an alarm, unloading the dishwasher AGAIN, doing your real life work, and just generally trying to be a responsible and productive human. These are simply ideas or things I have put into practice myself, not an exhaustive list, so I welcome any fresh takes on ways to incorporate remembering into the stuff of our days. Truly, let me know in the comments if you are engaging in a spiritual practice that you feel like aligns with what we’re chatting about. I’ll add it to the list.

As always, thanks for listening and being part of We Have This Hope. Enjoy the show and tell a friend!

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Here are links to most of what I mention in today’s episode. Let me know if you have questions about a resource or just generally want to know more.

TGC Africa article

Every Moment Holy

Kayla Craig

Kate Bowler

The Hiding Place

Domestic Monastery

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Today’s story is one that I know well because it’s partly mine. I shared the experience with a lot people, others who also had storm damage, friends and family who walked through it with us, but no one knows the intricacies of the last year more than my brilliant husband Dustin. He’s joining me on the episode to tell the story.

One year ago the hundred year old oak tree in our backyard dropped a massive branch onto our house during a wild Oklahoma storm. I’ve lived through 38 tornado seasons in this state and had never personally experienced any damage. Even now I can’t technically say I experienced the moment of impact because we were traveling. What I did fully experience, however, was the aftermath of it—water damage, relocation, insurance claims, relocation, contractors, remodeling, relocation, so many spreadsheets—did I mention relocation? As I type this I can happily report I’m sitting in the office of my almost entirely remodeled home and, with a bit thicker skin, I can also say that this was ultimately nothing more than an incredible inconvenience.

But we did grow a lot from it.

We did see God move in ways that surprised us. We did experience community in a way that will hopefully impact the way we respond to others. We did question why this was happening and then walk away saying we’d do it all over again. So today we remember because we believe this story matters—if not for anyone but ourselves and our children and maybe our family and friends who stuck it out with us.

I’m biased, but I think this is also a fun episode, one that you’ll enjoy as you walk around the neighborhood or empty the dishwasher. Odds are you likely encouraged and supported us along the way this past year in a small or big way so this episode is also for you. It was a wild and wonderful year—may it bear fruit in us as we remember.

Emily

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Part 2 is ready for you!

Last week I promised you the second half of my conversation with Lael Crabtree, a missionary living with her family in the busy of Papua New Guinea. It bears repeating that this story comes in two parts because we chatted for nearly three hours and I barely needed to edit. Please don’t miss out on the first episode because Lael does a beautiful job of giving context to their work—how they got there, what they do, and why they do it. You can listen right here.

Today’s episode makes space for her honest stories of what its like when the adrenaline wears off and the real work begins—when persecution is real and you wish you had a bit more medical training. Lael shares of God’s faithfulness, but let me say that with a few more words because often we skip over God’s faithfulness. Lael shares about God giving them exactly what they need at exactly the right time, God moving and equipping and providing in ways that could not have been orchestrated by human hands or mustered by human strength. Friends, these stories are the testimonies of the saints—and they’re being delivered right to you headphones. Listen and let them do some good work in you.

I’m also asking you to pray for the church in Wantakia. Could you pause right now and ask God to move, delight, inspire, and be known among the people? Consider this your official nudge to do that.

Next week I’ll be sending out more details about what this summer looks like for We Have This Hope and I’m truly so excited. Thank you for reading/listening/commenting/subscribing/sharing/askingmeaboutit/sendingmefeedback/beingmyfriends/decipheringalltheserunonphrases/laughingalittlealongtheway!

Emily

Lael & Jack work for Ethnos360. Follow along via their IG account as well (@laelbcrabtree)

Want to see what it actually looks like in their village? reachWantakia on youtube has some drone footage as well as glimpses of the church gathered for literacy and Bible training.

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This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit wehavethishope.substack.com/subscribe