Our New Home

The story of finding our new house and how God provided peace amidst anxiety

Last October, Chris and I decided we were ready to start searching for our next home. We both grew up with a lot of land on our parents’ properties, and realized as much as we loved Wauwatosa, we were ready to part with our postage stamp of a backyard and search for bigger, greener spaces.

The hunt was slow. Between October and April we looked at two houses – what we were looking for just hadn’t shown up. Until June 23rd when an email popped into our inbox.  

This is a complicated story to write – so many layers of emotions wrapped up in this giant step in our lives – because, if you’re not aware, my beloved dad died unexpectedly on the morning of May 13th. Life changed completely the second I answered that phone call, and my mom uttered the words “daddy died.” [To read more about my sweet dad and the eulogy I wrote tap here.]

When my dad died, (I still struggle to write those horrific words) we paused the house hunt. Life as we knew it became a new landscape, and the last thing we wanted was to consider moving in the midst of it. We called our realtor and asked him to stop the listing emails.

In the month that followed, Chris and I constantly drove back and forth from Wauwatosa to Grafton where my parents’ house is. It’s only a half hour one way, but after doing it constantly it became wearing. So one day, out of sheer exhaustion from another back and forth, I popped on Zillow to see what the world of houses had to offer. There I found a house so close to my parents’ I could walk through the back field to get there. My mind started racing. “This could be perfect!”

Long story short, we frantically contacted our realtor, set up a showing, looked at the house the next day and the Lord made it clear it wasn’t for us.

At the time I questioned why we would randomly find this house only to figure out it wasn’t right. But it’s now clear that it played an important role. This house opened our minds to receiving listings again from our agent, led us to pray about considering moving in this challenging season, and prepared us to consider the space we now call home.  

I share the following story about our new house for several reasons:

• To help myself process this giant step that took place

• To remind myself of how God provided exactly what we asked for

• To share with you that God really does enter heavy and hard places, and offers clarity and peace when there is nothing but anxiety
  

Finding our new home

The morning of June 23, Chris called me on his way home from a work event and said, “Have you checked your email?” It was a tough morning in the world of grief; I was missing my dad so heavily I couldn’t peel myself out of bed. With exhaustion and a bit of sass, I replied, “Umm no. Why? I can’t handle any surprises or guess work right now, what’s up?”

“A house came up that I think we want to look at. I called Brian (our realtor) and set up a showing in two hours.”

Okay… what? No. I can’t. I thought. Not this morning. My grief is too heavy. I cannot and will not leave this bed.

Plus, I had literally just told a friend that after seeing the last house I was sure that this wasn’t the time to move. So the timing seemed way way way off.

“Babe. I am so overdone this morning. I’ll look at the link, and think about it. But right now I need to go back to sleep. I’ll see you when you get home,” I responded to Chris.

As soon as I tapped the red button on my phone I was asleep. Which shows how truly overdone I was, I am not usually a sleeper when I’m stressed.

After I woke up, I decided I wasn’t going with Chris to look at the house. But ten minutes before he had to leave, I rolled myself out of bed, brushed my teeth, threw on some clothes and decided – “fine. I’ll just come”. I figured I already had my mind made up anyways, so it wouldn’t matter; it wouldn’t cause extra stress. So, off we went.

We pulled into the driveway, and I liked what I saw right away. As I walked through the house, scoping out each room, I could feel anxiety rising in my body. Crap, I thought. I like this house. I can see us here. It checks all the boxes. But, NO. I don’t want to. I do not want to move right now.

Our realtor had to leave early to head to another showing, so he locked up the house and Chris and I walked the property for a few minutes before heading out. As we walked down the driveway, I started sobbing. Emotions are at an all-time high with the loss of my dad’s presence on this earth; in that moment many layers of emotion overlapped.

Crap. We really like this house. We’re going to have to make a big decision!
I’m crushed beneath the weight of my grief as it is, how could I possibly add a GIANT life change on top of it? I don’t want to move right now.
I wish my dad were here with us right now – he would be so excited about this house.

As I sobbed, Chris’ hand in mine, I looked up at the tallest tree rustling in the wind along the driveway. With the shimmering leaves came a feeling as tangible as the wind that blew. As crazy as it may sound, I felt like my dad was walking down the driveway with us. I can picture it as if it were an actual memory – dad in jeans, a grey t-shirt tucked in, wearing his brown work boots, hands in his pockets as he looked up at the tree with me and then remarked how great this place was.

It brings tears to my eyes as I write this. Grief is such a disorienting experience. The mystery of death and the unknown of how heaven and earth overlap is mind boggling. I cannot explain that experience, and I know he wasn’t actually there, but I can tell you that it felt so real.
 

Making the decision to put in an offer

As you are probably aware, buying a house in the market last summer was wild. If you wanted the house, you had to put in an offer as soon as possible and be willing to offer more than asking. And you often had to sacrifice aspects of the typical homebuying process if you wanted to beat out other offers.

I am someone who does not make big decisions quickly. I need time to process, to pray, to be sure that I’m sure about the decision. So, needless to say, this was extremely stressful. Add in grief brain, which if you’ve never experienced intense grief let me tell you it’s like living in a fog, where you lose your thought mid-sentence or can’t remember if you added laundry detergent to the machine mere seconds ago.

I knew that we could not put in an offer right away. So we slept on it. Talked a lot. Prayed a lot, reached out to a few people to pray alongside us as we stormed the throne for clarity about this giant decision.

Fast forward through two stressful days full of thinking, anxiety, and praying… miraculously, the house was still on the market. Since we were still unsure, we decided to go to the Open House they were hosting and either say goodbye to the house, or put in an offer.  

When it comes to major life decisions I rely heavily on the Lord’s peace.

When we got engaged – there was peace.
When we bought our first house – there was peace.
When I made decisions regarding my career – there was peace.

Those decisions were not easy (well honestly, choosing to marry Chris was an easy one – no hesitation or doubt there). But in each one, when I cried out to the Lord for clarity, He provided peace. And I was desperate for this situation to be the same.

I pleaded with the Lord. Demanded, as much as one can demand from Him. Lord, I need you to show up in a big way. I need this to be abundantly clear – either a hard no or a hard yes.

I was carrying so much anxiety in my body from grief alone, and then add in the pressure of making this huge decision, I couldn’t imagine how I could possibly experience the peace that I craved. But I prayed, prayed, prayed that it would be so.

And friends, it was.

I had all the physical signs of anxiety as we pulled up to the house. My insides were shaky, breath was short, heart rate fast, and my palms were dripping with sweat. And again Chris and I prayed, “Lord make it clear. You have to. We need you to.”

Chris and I walked around the house together, but somewhat separately without sharing thoughts along the way. I asked the realtor different questions, pictured us in the rooms, imagined what filling the yard with my favorite people would look like and feel like. And with each step I took, the anxiety in my body dissipated.

My chest lightened. My pulse steadied. My palms dried. I could breathe deeper, more freely. What I felt in my body was peace. Palpable peace. Somehow, in a season where I feel completely lost, so foggy, so uncertain, anything but calm and clear – I had clarity.  

I can confidently proclaim that the only way that is possible is because of the Lord. That is not of me, that is not of my sensitive body. That is of the Lord. He answered our prayer miraculously and replaced my anxiety with clarity, certainty, and peace.  

We got back in the car, and I again started crying. “I think we need to put an offer in, Chris.” 

“So, do I.” He replied. 

Accepted offer

“Quick, talk to Brian. Let’s put in the offer before I panic,” I said to Chris with a laugh. 

At the open house there were many other people looking, and from how people were saying things like “that would be your room”, I was certain that we wouldn’t be the only offer on the table. We knew that if we wanted the house we had to go in swinging.

There are so many aspects of us getting the house that remain a mystery to me. So many things that can only be the Lord’s doing. One of the biggest ones being – our realtor suggested we go in under asking, ask for an inspection, appraisal, all the things you’d normally do but weren’t typical at this time in the market.

After asking several times, “Really? Are you sure? Will that be enough?” we trusted him and sent off the offer with prayer.

This part didn’t make me anxious. I felt like if we didn’t get the house then we knew it wasn’t what God had for us – that would be his way of slamming the door shut. If the Lord wants us here, the other offers won’t matter.

Kid you not, maybe a little over an hour later we got a call from our realtor telling us they accepted our offer.

WHAT?!  

I had so many questions:

• Were the realtors in cahoots?

• Did our realtor work some magic to make this happen?

• Did the sellers see me sobbing down the driveway on their Ring camera and find out what happened to my dad and choose us specifically for the house?

• Or was this completely the Lord’s doing?

No matter what involvement our realtor may have had, there is no doubt in my mind that this was the Lord’s plan. He provided over and over again. He answered our desperate cry for clarity. And he somehow got us the house under asking in what we assume was a mix of other offers.

And here’s a kicker that I found out after the fact – during our final walk through before closing, the seller’s agent told us that after they accepted our offer, another realtor called and was angry. She said, “Our client would have paid cash!” WHAT? There is no way we could have competed with that, so clearly the Lord truly carved out this space for us. I cannot get over this fact, it’s pretty wild.
 

PEACE AMIDST ANXIETY

Moving in this excruciating season was not easy. Try taking on two major life changes at once: losing my dad, and then moving from our first home – it’s no wonder my hair literally started falling out. Every bit was stressful and pregnant with emotion!

In the packing process, I found myself like an Israelite complaining about manna. Really, Lord? Thank you for the house you provided for us, but right now? I have to do this right now? Grieve my current house and city in addition to grieving my dad, right now? Physically pack when grief chains me to bed some mornings?

But in the midst of those fear-filled panics, in the depths of my bones I continually felt God saying, “This is what I have for you.”

Peace amidst anxiety.

Somehow, in the shakiest moments, I experienced the anthem I have declared for years. Not because of who I am, but because of who God is – our peace amidst anxiety. 

So… where are we now?

On September 11th, we packed our first home into a moving truck and made the trek from Wauwatosa to Grafton. Believe it or not, our new home is on the same street I grew up on. A two-minute drive, 12-minute walk, a mere seven country driveways down from my parents’ house.

This fact, well let’s be honest a lot of it, still shocks me.

Grafton was on our list of cities when we started the house hunt, but it wasn’t top of the list. We thought we’d land in Cedarburg or Mequon maybe. But God had other plans. He found us a house with the acreage and everything we were looking for, right down the road from my mom.

Being close to my mom, and now less than 10 minutes from my sister and her family too, has been an immense blessing in this season where we need each other more than ever. And let me tell you, my dad would have been over-the-moon excited about this move. He had been sending me links to houses he thought we should check out the week before he went to be with Jesus. I can imagine the giant smile, the way he would probably jump up and down, and maybe even shed happy tears over his dream of having his whole family within minutes of each other; it brings both tears and a smile to my face.

**Thank you so much for reading this story of how God provided this space for us. I pray that in some way it blessed you – that maybe you received an encouragement about God’s faithfulness or a reminder that He will always be our peace amidst anxiety. If you think of us, please continue to pray as we work on getting settled here, and tread forward on this unwanted journey of grief without my dad.

*pics of our first time showing the house to the family, and then our moving crew on the right

My dad's eulogy

On May 13th, I got the phone call I have feared my whole life. My mom called sobbing and spoke words that I struggle to type, “daddy died.”

For reasons unbeknownst to me this side of heaven, my dad went to be with Jesus that morning. As a healthy, active, full of life, 71-year-old, a pulmonary embolism (or catastrophic heart event, only the Lord really knows what happened) came as a complete shock. We are devastated.

It's been six weeks and I cannot grasp that this is my new reality. My sweet, joyful dad was one of my best friends. We talked or texted almost every day and saw each other weekly at the least. As a very close family who spends a lot of time together, his absence is crushing. 

On May 21st, we celebrated my dad’s life together with so many who knew and loved him. At the service, my sister and I shared words that I wrote about who our dad was. When you read these words, my prayer is that you would get a little glimpse of who my dad was, and why his absence leaves such a giant hole in our lives.

My dad’s eulogy

Friends and family – thank you so much for being here with us today to celebrate the life of our dad and grieve with us. We cannot believe that He went to be with the Lord already and we are absolutely devastated with shock and grief that we do not get to see his face on this side of heaven. But for right now, we ask that we take a collective breath together and celebrate the truly incredible man that our dad was.

Did you guys pack snacks and sleeping bags? Cause we might be here awhile…

If you read our dad’s obituary, you’ll notice that a phrase we used to describe him was “he fiercely loved.” The verse we chose from Romans says, “neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” That is the kind of love that describes our dad – one that is so deep it’s beyond comprehension.

You could see it in the way he talked. The way he was already at your door with a toolbox in hand and somehow had already run to the hardware store before you’d even finished explaining the issue you were having with your toilet. The way he brought over not one but 6 boxes of your favorite cookies from Costco. The way he gave generously just because he wanted to. And you could see it in the way that he called just to check in and update you on his day.

A lot of times the calls were to tell you how many turkeys were in the backyard, what he had for breakfast, to ask if you’d tried yogurt for your upset stomach, or to make sure you knew why you absolutely needed the newest Apple product he was obsessing over.

His calls were often not short, even after you told him, “Hey dad, or hey Todd, I really have to get going.”  

But those conversations happened because he genuinely cared and wanted to connect deeply. To share everything. If he was excited about something he wanted to tell you about it, and he wanted you to be excited about it too. And while he would often call to chat about random things, if you were struggling and needed to talk – he listened with tenderness and intention, and spoke truth in the simplest, most grounding of ways.  

The most beautiful thing about even those long conversations is, our dad was a man who never held back. He was shamelessly authentic. A man full of integrity. And you could see that in everything he did. From the way he ran his business, to the goofy way he got fancy feet and what he called “stupid” shoulders when he danced.  

It’s impossible to summarize the life of a man who was so abundantly full of life; someone who had his hands in so many things. He loved biking, riding his motorcycle, fishing, waterskiing, snow skiing, cross country skiing – as you all know, he was a very active guy. And that never slowed down. In fact, we’re pretty sure his pace picked up over the past few years as he added hunting, farming his fields, kayaking, playing ukulele and electric guitar to his already long list of passions.

But no matter how all-in he was on whatever work project or hobby, nothing compared to his passion and deep, deep love for people- especially his family.

Our grief is intense because we were all SO close, and we were so blessed to have spent SO much time together – he wasn’t just our dad, husband, father-in-law, grandpa, or brother – he was our cheerleader, caretaker, protector, and best friend. He was everything.

Being fiercely loved by him was such a gift to experience, and to witness. He adored my mom, the love-of-his-life, best friend, and bride of 48 years, he was absolutely obsessed with his grandchildren, he built an irreplaceable bond with his son-in-laws, and my sister and I were his treasures. He showed it to us in so many ways, so many I love yous, so many laughs, so many tight hugs and kisses on the forehead, and so much generosity. He truly loved us unconditionally.

There is so much more we’d like to tell you about our dad as this is just a tiny glimpse of who he was, but there is one thing you cannot miss. Our dad was the incredible, joyful, loving man that he was because of the God who created Him. Our dad fiercely loved the Lord – he studied the word fervently with his men’s bible study, he talked with God daily, he was an active member at church, and He worshipped the Lord through his love for Christian music. The leader, lover, joyful man you knew him to be? That was because of his love for Jesus.

His identity in Jesus is what empowered the way he loved us, the way he took care of my mom, and the way he shaped us into a family that knew God loved us deeply, and that He was always, always, always, in control.

As we wrestle with the suddenness of our beloved dad’s passing, and question the timing of it all, there is one thing that we are clinging to. We know that we know that we know that because of his relationship with Jesus, He is in glory with the Lord.

One morning as my sister, mom, and I laid in my parents’ bed crying together – Steph painted the most comforting visual. She said, I cannot imagine that dad’s seemingly healthy body gave out so swiftly and unexpectedly – what I have to picture is that in that instant God simply scooped him up as He said, “I’m calling you home NOW.”

We are completely devastated for all of us, we cannot imagine living life here on earth without him – but in the depths of our grief we have both joy and hope, knowing that He is currently soaking up the immeasurable beauty of heaven with the Lord and someday we will meet him there.

It is physically painful to imagine what the days ahead will hold, but I know with confidence that my dad would want us to find joy amidst the pain. He was the epitome of positivity. There’s a family joke that dad would always share when we were struggling. First, he’d listen with intention. He’d hug us in our frustration. And then he’d say, “Okay let’s flush it down the pooper.” We’d laugh – sometimes he’d even literally take us to the bathroom and flush the toilet for dramatic effect. And even though the situation didn’t immediately get better, there was joy right there in the midst of it.

I know we all miss him terribly. There is a giant - unfillable hole that will stay with us until we meet the Lord face to face, but we are going to do our very best to fix our eyes on the One who taught our dad to love and gave him incredible joy, and trust that He will help us make it through each heavy day.

I want to share one more story with you from the longest week without our dad.

Steph wasn’t sure how to tell Lola about grandpa’s death because they were the best of friends. He was an amazing grandpa who lit up when her or Leo entered the room. He was obsessed with them, and they shared many, many precious moments together from ranger rides to bike rides, to playing ukulele and cuddling on the couch.

With great courage my sister took on the impossible task of telling Lola what happened. When Lola heard that grandpa died her instant response was, “So Grandpa is in heaven?” She asked questions, cried, and then some time later said… “I’m not sad anymore, mama. I’m happy.” “Why’s that?” Steph said. “Because Grandpa is in my heart and I know I’m in Grandpa’s heart.”

We know that this is just the beginning of our grief, and that it’s going to be really, really hard to live life without him. But as we look around and see him laced in everything, we have to follow the simple wisdom of my sweet niece. Though his presence is gone, he lives on in all of us.

As we enter these days ahead, please, please, please keep reaching out. Keep telling us stories about him, help us find joy amidst our devastating grief by celebrating the legacy he leaves behind. Ask us to share memories about our dad, ask my mom to tell you about her best friend and the beautiful marriage they shared. And may we all know that even in this unbearable pain, the Lord is present and as dad would so confidently say, “even in this, God is in control.”

thank you & please pray

Thank you for taking the time to read those words. It means so much to me. I pray that you are encouraged or inspired by hearing about how my dad lived his life. When you think of my family, will you please pray for us? Especially for my sweet mama, please.

I shared the words below with those of you on my email list, but I want to leave them here for anyone else who finds this post too.

When people ask how I’m doing, my honest answer is “each day is a new kind of terrible.” My dad was so involved with everything—every aspect of each of our lives—that it’s hard not to see him in everything. That is both beautiful and shattering as the obliterating pain of grief is inescapable. 

But as I talk about the searing pain in this loss, I must also talk about the good Lord whose hand can be seen even in this. We know that God is rejoicing with us because my dad now gets to see Jesus face to face. But we also know that He’s mourning with us as we long for my dad’s presence here. 

We know God has not left us. We know He has been carrying us, and will help us learn to live without my dad, even though we fight against this reality with every fiber in our bodies.

There’s a song that put words in my mouth on a day where all I had was sobs. It’s called “Hold on, Pain Ends” by For King & Country. The lyrics are as follows:

“Breathe in and breathe out
I know it hurts now
Pray through the waiting 
Hold on, pain ends

Hope when it’s all gone
Hope when it’s so wrong
Nothing is wasted
Hold on, pain ends

….
When it’s hard to say amen
And it doesn’t go as planned
When it’s more than you can stand
You can hold onto Me then.”

It is so very hard to say Amen right now. Because I do not feel “in agreement” with the timing that the Lord ordained for my dad’s life. I want to throw a tantrum even though I know it won’t shift a thing (and some days I actually do). But, with gritted teeth and a ton of tears, I am proclaiming with my mouth that nothing is wasted with the Lord, and even when everything is so very wrong, I will cling to Him with hope.

Thank you for reading and for praying for me and my family.

This isn't what I signed up for...

“This isn’t what I signed up for…” 

I read this sentence in a new devotional I’m reading (The Path to Peace by Ann Swindell), and was transported out of the book and into my mind where I have been uttering this same phrase over and over again lately.

My 8-year-old cat has been sick for the past five months. As we continue to spend a boatload of money, time, and emotional energy on trying to get him healthy I’ve caught myself fuming, “This isn’t what I signed up for!”

That cold January day when I ventured to the Wisconsin Humane Society to see this adorable fluffy kitty that had popped up on the adoption website, I wasn’t going in thinking, “okay… I am going to pick an adorable cat who is going to have a bajillion health challenges.” No, I went in with the intention of adopting a cute kitten who I could snuggle and love and would keep me company while Chris was away for work. 

I had no idea then that our sweet little Finn would become an irreplaceable joy to our family, but also cause incredible stress as over his short little life he’s endured a plethora of not-so-minor health challenges. 

“This isn’t what I signed up for!”

I bet that every single one of you reading this could write your own list of “this isn’t what I signed up for.” I’ll go first:

• I didn’t sign up for a hypermobile body that requires lots of work to keep happy

• I didn’t sign up for a struggle with anxiety

• I didn’t sign up for panic attacks

• I didn’t sign up for eyeballs that need glasses to see

• I didn’t sign up for being a highly sensitive person

I mean heck, we could use this for anything! I think we could even get cynical about some of our positive traits. I didn’t sign up to love writing and want to write a book (cause sometimes it feels like a big challenge even though I know it’s a gift). 

I don’t know what would make your list of things you didn’t sign up for – but I want to encourage you that it’s okay to acknowledge that list and embrace whatever feelings come out of it. Compassion. Annoyance. Frustration. Sadness. Anger.

In my current circumstance, when those words fly through my brain, I experience both compassion and annoyance.

Compassion – Aww hunny, you’re right! You didn’t sign up to have a sick kitty. It’s been really hard over the past five months when your baby keeps coughing and having nose bleeds and you cannot figure out how to help him. Plain and simple, that sucks. It’s okay to be frustrated with your circumstance.

Annoyance – Ugh, Mindy. Knock it off. Sure, you didn’t sign up for this. But come on – you can’t predict what’s going to happen when you sign up for anything! Suck it up. You got a sick cat. You love him. You’ll deal with it. And it’ll be okay. 

What I’m realizing lately is, both responses are okay. I can be compassionate and give myself permission to lament about the frustrating circumstance that we’re in, and I can also firmly remind myself that although I didn’t sign up for it, this is my circumstance to deal with and I am capable. **important note: this is a healthy response as long as annoyance or a firm reminder doesn’t evolve into shame (“ugh Mindy get over yourself because others are going through much worse than you.”) – because shame is never a helpful or appropriate response.

The important question is – what do we do once we’ve allowed those feelings to flow? 

Do we sit in the “ugh I didn’t sign up for this” negative attitude?
-OR-
Do we acknowledge “yeah I didn’t sign up for this” and learn to embrace and find peace within our circumstances?

That is the question I am asking myself as I come off a stressful week with yet another nosebleed and CT scan for my cat, followed by a bout of diarrhea where I found myself wiping my cat’s booty more than I ever imagined I would. 

I am tired of this situation. I am tired of having a sick cat. Part of me hangs tight to the angry “I didn’t sign up for this!” attitude. But the reality is, that does me no good.

In John 16:33, Jesus says, “In this world you will have trouble…” (Anyone else feel the need to quote that Bible verse a lot these days?) We live in a world with a lot of trouble. And some seasons feel like they have more trouble than they have calm. But guess what – that. is. life.

So how do we switch our mentality to embrace our circumstance and find peace within it – even when the situation is really, really hard? It all comes back to where we root our hearts and minds. 

If I root my mind in the ever-evolving frustration with my cat’s illness or the fact that there is no end in sight, I will lose it. I will feel frustration at every turn and be constantly absorbed by the unknowns that govern this situation. 

If I instead root my mind in the Lord, who He is, who He made me to be, and the gift that through Him we can experience peace in any situation, then I can shed the “this isn’t what I signed up for” attitude. 

Here is the shift I am adopting:
Instead of  - UGH, This isn’t what I signed up for!
I’m trying – Lord, this isn’t what I signed up for. But you blessed me with a sweet kitty that we love immensely. You’ve brought great joy to our family through him. You have blessed me with a sound mind, a smart brain, and an ability to research and advocate for his health. You’ve surrounded us with a team of veterinarians who want to help. I am not alone in this. Yes, this may not be what I signed up for (and it’s okay to grieve that) but I am capable of handling it, and there will be joy and peace amidst it, if I keep coming back to you. 

The rest of John 16:33 says, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” 

Jesus came into our broken world, as a human, so that He could not only relate to what we go through here on earth, but so that we would be equipped with what we need to endure any heavy situation that comes our way. It is not easy to walk the road of things we didn’t sign up for, but if we root ourselves in Jesus, we will not lose ourselves to frustration; in fact much to our surprise we can and will find peace in the midst of it. 

I don’t know what heaviness you find yourself walking through, but my prayer is that you would find the strength to shift your focus from the struggle, to the One who sustains you and promises to help you overcome it.