Abiding Notes #5
From tending scraped knees to tending our souls, here’s how humility, Advent hope, and God’s steady light shaped my week.
Abiding Notes is a simple collection of reflections and moments from the week—snapshots of life and faith in the middle of full days. My hope is that these small notes encourage you to pause, look to Christ, and keep abiding in Him with grace and hope.
1 Tending Small Things
While I was away last week, the kinds of messages I got from my kids made me smile: “Mom, my leg hurts,” “I jammed my finger at basketball practice.” It struck me again how much the nurse in me spills over into my mothering—sometimes more heavily than I realize.
I’m grateful my kids know I’ll care for them, that I can walk with them through pain and the small challenges that feel big in the moment. At the same time, ER nurses aren’t exactly known for our tender empathy toward non-urgent complaints. If it doesn’t need a resuscitation bay, it’s hard for it to feel serious. More than once, I’ve been told my compassion could use a tune-up.
Sometimes it’s sounded like, “I’m sorry you’ve been waiting in the ER for six hours with your ingrown toenail, I know it’s painful and maybe infected, but we’re working on keeping someone’s heart beating in there, so kindly be patient.”
My kids, though, keep me grounded. They pull my perspective back to earth. Sometimes they’re not looking for a treatment plan; they simply want the comfort of mom knowing something’s wrong, the reassurance that she sees and cares.
So I tend to the small things.
It brings to mind Jesus’ attentiveness. In Luke 8:43–48, He’s moving through a crowd, teaching, healing, responding to urgent needs. Yet when a woman—bleeding for twelve long years—reaches for the hem of His cloak, He feels it instantly. He notices the hidden, the hurting, the overlooked.
As this season grows frantic, I want to follow His way: to slow down, to notice, to tend to what and who matters most.
Lord, make me attentive to the small needs around me, and shape my heart to respond with Your gentleness and care.
2 Look to Understand
It’s been a while since I read Stephen Covey’s Habits of Highly Effective People. I’m pretty sure it was the first leadership book we tackled during missionary training. I read one of the habits again this week: first seek to understand, then to be understood.
It sounds simple enough—listen well, pay attention, ask curious questions.
But in practice? It’s surprisingly hard.
Maybe it’s because these conversations often happen in the margins—between tasks, in the middle of a busy day, or right as our minds are shifting gears. Someone brings a thought or a worry, and we’re still mentally parked in the last thing we were doing. It takes real self-awareness to stop and be fully present with the person in front of us.
And if we’re honest, sometimes we struggle because we don’t really value the other person’s perspective. We want to prove our point, show why our idea is better, or move the conversation along. What we need—what I need—is a heart shaped by humility.
Tim Keller puts it beautifully:
“The thing we would remember from meeting a truly gospel-humble person is how much they seemed to be totally interested in us. Because the essence of gospel-humility is not thinking more of myself or thinking less of myself, it is thinking of myself less.”
This kind of humility seems rare.
But it’s not entirely missing.
Just last week, one of our leaders said with steady confidence, “I don’t need to know everything.” Those words—so simple, so honest—hit me deeply. In leadership we’re often expected to have answers, to make decisions, to know the right path forward. Yet here was someone naming the freedom we so often forget: it’s not about us.
Dependence on God’s wisdom—and openness to the help of others—is not weakness but strength. It loosens our grip and opens our ears.
And there’s a rub in that, especially if we’ve spent years believing otherwise. Learning to listen, to receive, to surrender being “right,” takes practice and grace.
Christ Himself shows us the way. “The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve.” His humility reorients ours, “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.” (Phil. 2:3)
May this be the posture we bring into our homes, our work, our friendships—seeking not to be impressive, but to understand.
Lord, give me a humble heart and attentive ears, that I may listen with Your gentleness and love others more fully.
3 Advent Season is Here
I mentioned earlier that I already feel behind. Ironically, I tried to be ahead this year—I printed Christmas cards in September, picked up a few stocking stuffers in the summer. But now we’ve reached December, the tree is still in a box and since we’re travelling for Christmas, I’m honestly not sure if I’ll decorate it at all.
What I do know is that I want to enter the joy of Advent. I want to approach Christmas with an unhurried posture, to linger in the gospel again. Volleyball has wrapped up, Bible study has paused, and as I look at the weeks ahead, I’m thinking I might dig out my box of nativity scenes and pull the ornaments from storage. There’s something about these simple, familiar decorations—how they quietly preach the season back to us, helping our hearts slow down and attend to Christ with intention.
If you’re looking for a few Advent-themed helps, here are some gentle companions for the journey:
Mariel’s free study: Release Expectations This Christmas
For writers and journalers: Jana’s thoughtful post on how writing restores the wonder of Christmas
For my own reading list this season, I’m planning my annual read of On the Incarnation and The Dawning of Indestructible Joy by John Piper.
Lord Jesus, draw our hearts into the quiet wonder of Your coming, and teach us to enter this season slowly, gratefully, and with eyes fixed on You.
4 Light in the Darkness
“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone” (Is. 9:2)
The winter months here are dark. The sun doesn’t rise until after eight, and by late afternoon the sky has already dimmed. On an evening walk, your eyes adjust to the muted gray, but then a car turns the corner or you step onto a street lined with lamps—and suddenly you squint, surprised by how bright light can be when you’ve been in the shadows.
Isaiah’s words were spoken into a similarly dark season for Judah. King Ahaz was on the throne, Assyria threatened from the north, and instead of trusting the Lord or standing with Israel, Ahaz chose the false security of an alliance with a pagan empire. Fear spread. Spiritual compromise grew thick. The people turned to idols and neglected the God who had made covenant with them. Judgment was coming, and the landscape—politically, morally, spiritually—was dim.
Into that gloom, God sent Isaiah with a promise: a Rescuer would come, and His light would pierce the darkness.
Centuries later, Jesus walked the same soil, and Matthew recognized Isaiah’s prophecy fulfilled (Matt. 4:12–16). The Light of the World (Jn. 8:12) had arrived—not only to illuminate the way but to conquer the darkness both now and forever, for “in him was life, and that life was the light of men” (Jn. 1:4).
Our own dark valleys come and go. Seasons of grief, confusion, or disappointment settle around us, and the way forward feels clouded. In moments like these, Richard Baxter offers a gentle reminder: “Do not overlook the miracle of love that God has shown us in the wonderful incarnation, office, life, death, resurrection, ascension, and reign of our Redeemer.”
This is the miracle Advent holds before us: Light breaking in. The long-awaited Redeemer arriving to save. The grace of God opening our eyes so we might see Him.
“For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” (2 Cor. 4:6)
Looking at the world today, it’s easy to feel the ache—easy to sense the discouragement Judah once knew. But Isaiah’s promise still leads us toward hope. We don’t know how every situation will unfold, but our Savior does. The Light has come, and His light continues to break through for us today.
Lord Jesus, Light of the World, shine into our shadows again—give us steady hope, clear sight, and hearts that rest in the brightness of Your presence.
5 Year in Review
Disclaimer: I’m an avid journaler…and, my process may frighten you.
One of my favourite rhythms at the end of the year is stepping back to trace the contours of the months behind me. From a birds-eye view, the small moments begin to gather meaning—quiet whispers of what God has been teaching me, gentle reminders the Spirit repeated, and all the unexpected ways His faithfulness threaded itself through ordinary days. It becomes a recounting of blessing, a bucket of praise, a testament to His presence and purposes.
A few years ago, I leaned more intentionally into habits of goal-setting and rhythms of productivity. Life felt full, and the best way I knew to steward the roles and responsibilities God entrusted to me was through discipline and order—strengthened by a few wise and gospel-centred resources like Do More Better and Redeeming Your Time.
I begin each year with prayer, asking the Lord to shape my desires and clarify the goals that will anchor my attention. It becomes a kind of rule of life: yearly hopes broken into quarters and then into months. Week by week, I look back—sometimes with gratitude, sometimes with confession. And at the end of each month, I take stock of the progress, the detours, and the quiet growth. The seasons shift quickly in our home, so I hold all of it loosely, remembering, ‘If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.’ (James 4:15)
By the time December arrives, the practice of tracking and reflecting makes it easier to look back with curiosity and humility. I can see the “holy disruptions”—the moments that redirected me toward repentance and deeper sanctification. I can name the unexpected doors that opened into ministry or relationship.
Because the Advent weeks tend to fill quickly, I often begin this review early; it becomes a gentle guide as I pray toward the year ahead. I’ve started the page, blocked out some time in the spaces of this week to begin.
If it serves you, here’s the simple template I use as I look back:
Lord Jesus, You have walked with us through what we expected and what we never saw coming. Teach us to recognize Your nearness in every page of this year.
In Abiding
When you think about spiritual disciplines, does it move you toward dread or desire? But discipline feeds our health whether it’s physically or spiritually. Check out this short guide to show you!
Have you heard about the practice of a daily examen? In my earlier dialogue about journaling, here’s a helpful framework for a daily check in after a busy day.
A Quiet Examen for the End of the DayPresence: “Lord, here I am.”
Praise: Where did I notice Your grace today?
Perception: Where did my heart drift or resist You?
Provision: Where do I need Your help tomorrow?
Peace: Resting in Your love.
"in humility count others more significant than yourselves.” So important, yet at times so hard to do!