I have been waking up in a bad mood. I have been keenly aware of it since I know I’ll be blogging at some point about it. I recall having an inter dialog since I was much younger. As soon as I felt anxious I would say, “What’s wrong, Steph? What’s wrong?” I would come up with who did it, what caused it even when nothing was the problem. It was this emotional cycle. Of late, like the past year, I have noticed and started to curb my “what’s wrong” questions with saying, “Nothing’s wrong, Steph. Nothing’s wrong”.
I’m a big champion when it comes to thinking about the ways we think and the idea that we can change our minds. Literally, the pathways in our brains can change by thinking about different things, by changing the way we think. We can retrain our minds. We’ll dive into this more another time, but this morning, Day 16, needed an overhaul.
Driving Camryn to school I asked her what happens when she is in a bad mood. She is almost four-years-old, so she is very knowledgeable. She said “You sit on the Sad Pad”. The Sad Pad at school is where you have a “time-out” if you need to think about your actions after certain amount of trying other things. In her mind, its the worst place to go and she has yet to be led there. She became quite sad while she was talking about it so we abandoned the topic.
I, however, continued to think about it and realized the “Sad Pad” is exactly what I need when my mood is off. I need a time-out. I need to pause to let gratitude change my focus. Nothing is wrong, usually. Wherever I am in the moment is just not the place I planned, hoped for or intended to be right then. This itself is anxiety producing so yes, I need a time-out.
John Ortberg’s book hit the spot this morning. “The truth is, all of us can get so caught up in ourselves that we too often don’t take the time to be grateful—to God and to others.” (John Ortberg, Soul Keeping )
So I changed my mind with a little gratitude after the time-out. The world looks brighter. I am choosing to not let my “what’s wrong” mentality stir anxiety. Intervention: When I feel like something is wrong, I am going to choose gratitude first, even before I tell myself “Nothing’s wrong, Steph. Nothing’s wrong”.
Psalm 27:14 Stay with God! Take heart. Don’t quit. I’ll say it again; Stay with God.
I was reminded recently about a loss I sustained over the course of a year. I lost a good friend, someone I called a sister. Like every close relationships there are ups and downs. The ups are supposed to outweigh the downs as a stronger bond is formed. But, for me then the downs overtook the ups, the relationship fell apart.
The grief of the loss changed me. I see other friends go through friend loss and I am reminded how fragile we humans can be sometimes. We are imperfect people attempting to have perfect relationships. I remember being anxious and constantly reviewing what I did wrong or what went wrong. I revisited conversations and tones of voice. I lost hope in having close friends and I pulled away. It still takes time for me to trust a new friend.
We were not made to be alone. My grandad just blogged yesterday about after losing my grandmother he become really busy and reoccupied with moving on with life. When he slowed down he realized he was lonely. This happens for me as well. I work and work and the instant I slow down, I can become lonely.. I get disappointed easily by what I think I should have.
When loneliness hits me I begin to think God is far away from me too. When I am hurt by a friend, I pull away. I again pull away from God because I’m afraid of being disappointed. I translate my friend failure to a failure in relationships, even as close to a perfect one as I can experience: a perfect God and an imperfect girl.
I am easily anxious when I feel alone. I remind myself about the amazing friends I do life with and spend time keeping my heart and expectations. in balance. Previous grief has matured me in how much I rely on those friendships. I am still learning to trust.
The psalmist David penned these words. “Stay with God! Take heart. Don’t quit. I’ll say it again. Stay with God.”
So I say it to myself and I say it to you, stay with God. Even when our human imperfect relationships run us over and knock us down, God does not change. He may seem distant, but he is right there. We push away and we become distant and turn it on God as if it’s his fault. We do this to protect ourselves from disappointment. But, God, has yet to disappoint me when I remember I’m imperfect and He is God. He shows up when I am willing to be vulnerable to allow him to be with me.
I am a very “free” person. I am dairy-free, soy-free and sometimes gluten-free and sugar-free. Some of my free-ness comes from my mold allergy/muscle fatigue/who knows what my stomach tolerates stuff. I have to be essential-oils free, too, if I want to keep breathing. When I first was so restricted, I remember being so anxious when I went out to eat or when I wanted to eat something that actually tasted good.
When I became fully gluten-free it was 2006 in Oregon and being GF cool wasn’t cool. It was quite overwhelmingl. I had a small budget. I remember using tapioca flour as the alternative to wheat and throwing out batches of gross inventions. There were few options for my dairy intolerance as well. I became dairy-free in 2002. My alternative to dairy was rice milk. I couldn’t have soy either so life just became sad. I had a magazine page up on my refrigerator for years which said “I was GF before it was cool”. Oh, the struggle was real.
Baking, one of my favorite things to do in the kitchen, has become much easier over the years. With more options made available for cheaper, I have finally learned some tricks. Here is a simple banana bread recipe which has become a go-to to lower my stress. It is so delicious. I give it away as gifts for the holidays and when I need a quick alternative to share with a friend who is also GF, DF, SF, etc.
Banana Bread by Steph Trowbridge
3-4 medium ripe bananas, mash with a fork
1/2 cup of sugar (more than half of other recipes)
1/3 cup apple sauce (one kid squeeze packet)
1/4 cup (or a little less) olive oil
1 tsp vanilla
1/2 cup alternative milk (today I have coconut/almond blend)
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 table salt (1/2 the amount since we did half the amount of sugar)
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp xanthum gum (one tsp for every single recipe is my go to, today I hold this since my baking flour has it already)
2 1/2 cups of all purpose gluten free flour (today I’m using Bob’s Red Mill 1-1 baking flour. My favorite is oat flour, but I don’t have it in my kitchen at the moment)
Heat your oven to 350 degrees. Mix all the wet ingredients with the fork so the bananas can maintain some mashed shape. Add the dry ingredients. Use cooking spray to coat the 8-inch loaf pan. One recipe fills one pan. Place the filled pan into the oven on the middle rack. Check the banana bread at 50 minutes. Test with a knife to see if the knife comes out clean. If not, bake for about 10 more minutes. This recipe tend to look a little lighter whether my regular gluten-filled loaf recipe. The knife through is the important part. No one wants soggy banana bread after all this work.
I love to talk about making GF, DF, etc, diets easier, so don’t hesitate to ask questions. Having to eat differently can cause anyone stress, but there are tricks to make life easier!
I am terrible at waiting. Seriously. It’s not the grocery store-long line waiting. It’s the “I have little control over something and I have to wait for someone else to follow through” kind of waiting. A college course in “Relinquishing Control 101” is a definite requirement.
There was a situation on Saturday, Day 4 of my anxiety/honesty blog, I began to unravel over having to wait. I have no control over this particular situation. And it’s Saturday. And it’s someone else’s job to fix it, to find it or to respond to it. I went from fine to my heart rate increases, my Apple Watch reminds me to breath and my movements become frantic within a minute. No one needs to see me panic so I do this as quietly as I can. Five minutes later I find out what I was waiting for had happened but I didn’t see the response. It was in a different email folder. Heaven, come closer. I’m a mess.
Since I am keenly aware I am reporting my anxiousness on my blog, I must be truthful. This was just one example of the several cluttered moments which can set-off my anxiety. After this issue was resolved for the moment, I moved on my business ToDo list. My head became busy processing and reviewing everything I needed to do. I haven’t decided if it will help to write down everything I need to do or not. The jury is still out on that one. Having lists in the past has made me stressed. On the other hand I can become overwhelmed when I start a project and then remember I have five other things I was hoping to get done.
The thing is, it always gets done. Just like being pregnant, it comes to an end eventually. You can’t keep the baby inside forever. The list to todos, which seem urgent in the moment, won’t be there forever. It will all get done or it wasn’t important in the first place.
The funny thing is, when I am in a my professions settings, I’m not like this. I’m not anxious, I’m not overwhelmed. I have learned the art of focusing on what’s important and letting the rest fall by the way side. I can pick up the pieces later, but the main thing gets my attention. It’s just at home. Hummmm, food for thought. I will need to processes this one.
“Somebody said a long time again if the Devil can’t make you sin, he will make you busy, because either way your soul will shrivel” said John Ortberg, Soul Keeping: Caring for the Most Important Part of You.
Goodness, but this is true for me. “Busy” tends to distract me from keeping my soul centered and in the practice of decluttering my life and releases me to panic over a long list or an uncontrolled experience. John Ortberg poses the question in the same book as above, “If we cease to be busy, do we matter?” I don’t really want to answer that one out loud.
I know the answer, but being “busy” is often my go-to. Sadly, this is what I’m often known for. Busy isn’t necessarily bad until it wastes our precious time and we are distracted from the experience of an unhurried life. A life in which we will learn “the unforced rhythms of grace” as Jesus says in Matthew 11:29 (MSG).
The first step to growth is awareness and I can say with confidence, I am aware of my tendency to have my soul and my life cluttered. Good stuff, or not so good, easily takes over. I am starting to see my need and Lord, teach me what the “unforced rhythms of grace” truly are.
Hurry Reduction: be keenly aware when my anxiousness comes from busyness.
Today I was thinking about how quickly the winter holidays fly by. Before we know it our check lists are complete, one or two whirlwind days have come and gone and off we go running to the next thing. Traditions are sure to be a part of our checklists. They are for me. I asked my oldest what traditions she wanted to make sure to do this year. We had less time due to my job and business schedules. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t disappointed. Her list was much shorter than mine and I gladly catered to her desired traditions. They were simple and they were important.
In theory, I think traditions are meant to make sure we don’t miss anything about the holidays. But, more importantly, I think they help us slow down. It’s like the plot of a Hallmark movie. It’s consistent and it’s expected. It’s safe and rarely surprises us. I think by the end of the year, especially, this is what we want. Something consistent and expected in our holiday plans.
Side note: I told my Mags if a boy tells her he loves her after three days, look around, she will probably be in a Hallmark movie.
My favorite tradition is three generations old, if not more. A few days before Christmas I carve out a whole morning or an afternoon to make my grandma’s cinnamon rolls. On Christmas after the gifts are opened we gather around these luscious homemade rolls. The roll eating takes seconds unless you pause to savor the process. The roll making is what takes the time.
I am not slow when it comes to most things, thus this year long adventure to reduce anxiety and to decrease hurry in my life. These rolls are the opposite of hurried. They are nothing but slow. A rushed roll is a dense roll. Not awesome.
Here is an overview of the process: take warm water, just the right temperature, and add yeast. Let it sit. Once the yeast is ready, you make the dough, kneed it and let it rise to double its size. This can take quite a while on a winter’s day unless the house is nice and toasty. (Unless the oven is on to warm-up the kitchen.) Once you roll out the dough, butter it, spread the cinnamon sugar mixture, roll the dough and cut it into appropriate size rolls. Once in pans, let them rise again. Bake them once they are large enough and don’t forget the entire reason for the rolls – the frostings/glaze.
There are definitely quicker ways to make cinnamon rolls. For me the joy is the process. This year I took even more time to linger with it. The first two rolls were shared around a cup of coffee with a friend. I allowed myself to go slowly and not rush the rising. Sure, the rolls were amazing and the tradition upheld, but my soul was content after this lovely morning. I was satisfied being a bit less hurried.
So this brings me to my first intervention in my hurried life. This tradition does not have to be for Christmas alone. The rolls, maybe, need to stay special, but if the process of the rolls was so healthy, why not emulate it more often?
First exercise in hurry reduction: find a slow recipe, carve out the time each month and put it in pen on the calendar. Make the recipe and linger over the making and the result. Share it with someone who will appreciate the process.
Traditions can also create a sense of normalcy and gratitude when our anxiety gets the best of us. Being grateful for those in my life or those who have passed down a tradition helps me to refocus. I allow myself to rest in the safe and consistent place instead of worry.
Here is to traditions and the Hallmark movie you find yourself watching over and over!
“You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life.” -Dallas Willard
Happy New Year! Wow, it’s 2020! I have hit a jackpot. Through a few authors I have been following this past year I was introduced to the teaching and perspectives of Dallas Willard. John Ortberg was mentored by him and John Mark Comer talks about the mentoring he receives by John Ortberg. Both these men of Jesus talk at length about the teachings of Willard.
This past year I have been immersed in learning about peace, anxiety, hurry, ambition and rest from these authors I mentioned as well as others. Rest and peace are not easy for me to come by. Not only am I a Type A person, but I also hurry around in my life so the anxiety of slowing down doesn’t catch up.
Several years ago I remember sitting in my counselor’s office. I offered an eye opening proclamation. “I’ve decided I struggle with anxiety”. She without hesitation to help me feel reassured said “yes, you do.” Seriously, couldn’t she have thought about it a little longer?
The truth was out and I started on the journey to figure out how to curb it. Like everything else in my life, I could conquer this as well. It has never been debilitating, but the more I take a step back to think this thru I realize anxious thoughts is intimate with almost everything I do and think. I excel as a nurse because I’m always prepared. I’m less anxious if I’m prepared. I manage my time well, (at least on the outside where everyone can see) so I keep up my pace. I worry about finances so I work hard and work more. When life isn’t fulfilling, I search until I figure out what will make it so. As my grandad says “I was born with a suitcase packed”.
In the last few months I have done a few exercises to work on my anxiety. I have changed a bit of how I think and the messages I tell myself. This year, however, I am ready to figure out what “ruthlessly eliminating hurry” from my life could look like. Hurry and anxiety go hand in hand for me. The minute I start slowing down my mind panics. What do I need to do to captivate my mind into new thinking and into rest?
In 2020 I am moving into new territories of less scheduled work, fewer miles in the car a week and a year long experience of anxiety reduction. My goal is to share my ups and downs, my ideas for relieving hurry in my own life and the simple retraining of my mind I might find helpful. I may not be at a clinical intervention level of anxiety, but the average anxiety I experience I believe is apparent in most of our busy lives. Hope you find encouragement in this. Hopefully there will be need for some bloopers, too.
This past year I embarked on two new things. The first one was to plan out our generosity. What a joy it has been to remind ourselves to let our finances live with purpose. Planning has helped me give without strings attached, instead of hoping to receive a reward for giving. Because, why do we give? If we give much, don’t we think we will be entrusted with much in return? If I’m not careful, when we entrust God with our giving, we expect God will return the blessings with more finances. If we live a big life in our culture’s standard, we should have more to give for our charities as well, right? “If you only give for what you hope to get out of it, do you think that’s charity?” Luke 6:34.
The second thing I did was to start a new job. After ten years in one place I thought a new job would bring grand new/easy challenges. I was at the top of my game at my old position so this would only elevate my abilities. I could coast to retirement in this simple job. Not so much. What was I thinking? This year as been more refining and more defining for me as a person. Just before the “live generously” verse in Luke 6, it talks about allowing others, who want your shirt, to give your best coat gift wrapped instead. So many times this year I feel as if I had to wrap up my best talent and humbly hand the gift over to someone who didn’t understand the sacrifice.
As I process these two adventures I realize they go hand in hand. The giving of oneself, whether financially or personally, requires a strong dose of humility. I needed some fire refining which hasn’t necessarily left me more purified, just smaller. I have seen what true generosity of spirit can produce by learning to give without expecting a return. I have seen real gratitude because if it and it only fuels the desire to live more generously. I have been knocked down to size and am so grateful for the view from down here. We are rich. We are most likely all in the top 3% of the world’s wealth if you are reading this on a computer and have internet. But we are also rich in spirit as the Holy Spirit lives in us, convicting us and bring us to a better understanding of who God is.
There is one thing I am left with at the end of this year and that is this: life isn’t about the things or the position we find ourselves in. It isn’t about how many “likes” we have or how many posts get the most views on social media. It’s not about what we achieve or how much we fail. Life is the progression of learning to “live out a God-created identity”. (Luke 6:35) Sometimes it’s face-in-the-mud refining. Sometimes it’s a quiet movement of generosity. And sometimes it’s just learning to sit still in the glory of God as we trust him for another day.
I’m eager for another year to start. Not because I need a new start, but because I like how actively God is working on me. I am grateful for the challenges God has allowed me to walk into. Because of this I am more defined in my God-created identity. I’m still exhausted from this year, but I am also excited for what God has for me next.
I hope you are expectant in your own life for 2020! I am planning to embark on a journey to find peace over anxiety and find ways to greatly reduce hurry from my life. I can’t wait to share it with you.
Two little birds and two mini stockings hang on our Christmas tree. My two little girls decorated the tree with me this year. Their quick hands clasp around my two glass bird ornaments and before I knew it, the birds were headed for low branches. “No, Girls,” I said. “These birds go up high. They are special. These birds remind us of the babies daddy and I lost before we were given you.”
My 7-year-old daughter is not immune to these types of comments as we learn to be open with each other about hard things. Her eyes grew wide as she stared at the now elevated ornaments outside of her reach.
The rate of miscarriage is high, yet I feel our culture still wants us to be quiet about them. I don’t believe we grieve well as a society about any loss. I also don’t believe we acknowledge loss in ways which foster openness and promotes healing. We fumble for words to say to anyone in the midst of their loss, no matter the age. We worry how our own sadness will come out, so we just look at the person with sad eyes and a pouty face. Okay, maybe I’m just describing myself. We send flowers and bring a meal, which are all good, but then we often just stop talking about it.
Our miscarriages were back to back. They were early on in both pregnancies. Friends and family showed up to love on us which was wonderful, but Matt and I didn’t really say anything to each other. We didn’t grieve together as long as we needed to. We didn’t process together in a way which could have been helpful for both of us. We experienced elation and devastation, twice, and just went back to life. I talked about it with my girlfriends and grieved over my physical bleeding. Matt found hope in his own things and we moved on..
Years later we spent the time in marriage counseling working through our losses. We worked through other missed opportunities to work through life’s hard stuff. It was a game changer for us. What if we hadn’t waited for years? What if we had talked about it openly and made it okay to feel and to hurt and to be sad together?
If you know me, I am not shy when it comes to talking about life with anyone once I’ve processed it myself. Bringing to light, I believe, the things which seem better hidden can take the hold it so often has on us and release us from it. Of course we may not all be this comfortable talking about the hardest things we experience, and I do encourage discretion, but in our marriages and in our deep friendships, let’s speak.
The greatest stories we listen to are the ones we tell ourselves. I told myself Matt wouldn’t be able to handle my sadness a second time.. I told myself it was my fault. I told myself Matt wouldn’t want me if I kept loosing babies. I told myself…but, none of these stories were true. None of the stories I made up played out. It did, however, affect our marriage. Matt had his own stories too.
In the past few years when my friends or acquaintances, even in my job as a pediatric nurse, have had a chronically-ill child, miscarriage(s) and not been able to conceive, I ask “how is your marriage”. I know in my own experience the loss of connection in my marriage became my hardest loss of all. I long for others to learn from my experience. I tell them to process together, to be together, to grieve together and to cling to each other even when words don’t make sense.
This year, as we hung our birds and stockings for our babies, I wasn’t as overcome with emotion as I have in years past. Matt and my marriage has grown to a place where we can talk about loss and talk about hard things without giving into the stories we tell ourselves. I don’t feel alone anymore in the loss. And God redeems. Ours looks like two girls who create joy and chaos, sometimes all at once.
I have no idea where you might be at in this season: anticipating starting a family, not having the option, having had a miscarriage(s), sleepless nights with an ill-child or endless months of trying. I do not know what your marriage looks like, but would you allow me to tell you this: God sees you. God hears you. God knows your heart. God wants to hold you together. He is not afraid of your grieve. You are never too much for him. He will never give up on you even when you don’t want to keep trying. And, this is good news, too. He loves your spouse as much as he loves you.
And please hear me in this: do not let the stories we tell ourselves get in the way of talking about your grief, your loss, and your sadness with your spouse and the people closest to you. Give light to your experience so what is hidden cannot hold you. Find a way to share your story, whether it’s by hanging a bird on your Christmas tree or by clinging to the one who loves you. Don’t let it stay hidden, don’t let yourself stay hidden.
A reminder to us all: when someone has the courage to speak, listen with the intention to hear. We all experience loss and very few of us want someone to fix it. Just listen; just be present. let’s be less nervous about what we will say and more eager be with the one who is grieving.
Psalm 139: 5 (Message) “I look behind me and you’re there, then up ahead and you’re there, too–your reassuring presence, coming and going.
Oxford defines the word linger as: to stay in a place longer than necessary because of a reluctance to leave.
I have an incredible groups of ladies who like to gather around a table for dinner every month. I wish everyone could experience a table like this. It’s our tradition to serve everything at the table. It’s our hope, in doing this, to encourage an environment of gathering, serving and lingering together for the sake of community. It’s an honest place and a place where laughter and tears are welcome. We do linger, often outstaying a normal welcome, just to share a little longer together.
I often wonder what it would have been like for the disciples of Jesus, the guys who did life with and learned from him, to linger at his table. Would it have been as joyful and as sincere at the table I enjoy with my friends? Would it have been as intimate as it is when the conversation settles on burdens and desires for prayer? Would it be gentle and peaceful, a place we always want to return? The Bible definitely depicts conversations with Jesus and his disciples, and I would image the disciples experienced all these things as well as many more.
I recently was encouraged to linger with Jesus intentionally. I began by getting into the accounts of Jesus a new mindset. I thought about the disciples experiencing a physical Jesus, then their experience of living without him. With fresh eyes, I saw ache and anguish in the loose these men and women felt in his absence.
If these disciples lingered daily in Jesus’ midst for three years, what must I do now, 2000 years later, to learn to linger with Jesus? Five minutes here and there isn’t going to cut it. Raising my hands in worship at church on Sunday mornings isn’t going to affect my life so greatly to where I miss Jesus every other day of the week. Lingering isn’t a loud car ride full of positive music. While all these have their place and perfect purpose, for me lingering is the way I want to learn to crave being with Jesus. It includes listening for him and learning to be still in anticipation and expectation. This lingering can come from conversations with just him or in community. It will come when I hesitate to leave because I don’t want to miss him rather than because I think I have to be with him.
I dread the idea of being still. Friends, I fear slowing down my mind and my heart and it shows by my constant busyness. The challenge, then, is to be simply with Jesus more often and to slow the rhythms of my world just a few minutes longer, in other words, linger.
The deep desire to know Jesus overshadows the panic of structured lingering. The imagery I find to help me understand this desire looks like a table. It is bountiful and simple, elegant and quiet. Etiquette is overshadowed by being present. Weary, busy people come to the table, yet full, calm, hope filled people leave it. Jesus is there and desires us to rest in his presence. No works, however good they may be, can obtain the right to a seat at his table. The chair is pulled out and we are offered his choice food in trade for our time and our attention.
And so, Jesus’ table is the place I will instruct myself to run to. I want to learn the grace of Jesus’ table. I want to learn the art of lingering to know Jesus better and more completely. The table has yet to become old. After years of “belonging” to Jesus, the journey of knowing Jesus has only just begun.
In this season of joy and busyness with friends and family, do you need to find your table with Jesus. Does your soul long to know Jesus, either for the first time or yet again? Carve out the intentional time to sit at his feet in wonder and begin to learn to linger just a few minutes longer.
A lingering Jesus: while I was writing this I realized how Jesus does not force us to linger, yet he is always lingering for us. He is always waiting, staying just a little bit longer than necessary until we find our place at his table. He will continue to linger as long as it takes, so let’s not keep him waiting.
Key Verse: I yell out to my God. I yell with all my might. I yell at the top of my lungs. He listens. Psalm 77: 1 (MSG)
My 18-month-old’s panicked cries reached my ears. As I reached the play room, two fear-struck eyes and little hands thrust out towards me, desperate for help. Immediately, I leapt over an array of toys in my path to reach her. I pulled her out of her wedged position, and felt her arms fling around me. She sealed herself to me like suction cups.
Her cries quickly subsided as I reassured my little blond-haired troublemaker. I lovingly warned her about her choices. Climbing onto the play kitchen and wedging herself into its plastic sink was not the best idea.
Much like my daughter I easily find myself in situations I can climb into but struggle to get out of. Even before the sun rises, I’m beating myself up for already losing my patience. I bite off more than I can chew. I am overwhelmed. I worry about little things yet fail to be present for the big things. In these moments, what we can be doing is yelling out for help.
In Psalm 77, where our key verse comes from, David expresses his gloom. He cannot sleep. He is beyond frustrated. With everything he has, he cries out. He needs help and his sentiments resonate with me-“I’m over it. I am in trouble. Help.”
Psalm 77: 2a says “I found myself in trouble and went looking for my Lord.” How reassuring! Being in trouble and looking for God go hand in hand.
No waiting necessary. No need to have it all together. We can call out to God in our trouble.
Once comforted, my little one pushed away from my arms. Putting her down I left the room. A few moments later I peaked in on her. Her little chubby legs and brave heart had helped her climb onto the play kitchen and she was happily wiggling herself back into the sink. I grinned, knowing I would be hearing panicked cries in a few minutes and I would run to the rescue.
God is so gracious to do the same for us. No matter how many times we find ourselves in trouble, no matter how many times we yell out to him, God will always show up to rescue us. -ST