Lately, though, I have been struck by how often Scripture seems to meet me exactly where I am. Not because I am looking for meaning everywhere, but because God knows us intimately. His timing is precise. He continues to provide and work within our circumstances.

While I could not see well enough to read the Bible, I could still listen to it through the Bible App. At first, I simply had someone open Psalms and hit play.

When I regained enough sight to do it myself, I started scrolling through the verse-of-the-day section and listening to the daily thought associated with the verse. I still like some more than others. Today’s verse stopped me. Paul writes in Romans 5:3–4 that we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, endurance produces character, and character produces hope.

The person sharing the thought used the phrase disappointments are divine appointments. That made me pause.

What if we changed our thinking in the moment of disappointment and asked God for wisdom to see the divine truth He is developing in us? How would that change our thoughts and actions? How might it impact others around us?

When I could not see even an inch in front of my face, I prayed. Anyone and anything that came to mind was covered in prayer. I attempted to visualize everyone in the pews at church, my friends lists, customers, email lists, and even included a “God bless what’s his name” Sound of Music–style prayer. I prayed for myself, for vision to return, but also for clarity moving forward, wisdom to let things go, and courage to face whatever obstacles might come.

In Romans 8:28, we are reminded that God works all things together for good. It does not say all things are good. God does not cause the challenges, difficulties, illnesses, or obstacles we face, but He walks alongside us through them.

It is our choice to turn the hard things over to Him so He can do His work within them.

I can rejoice in my sufferings, develop endurance, strengthen my character, and affirm my hope.

The question is no longer “Why me?” but “What will God do with this situation?”

My community showed up for us and served without question.

Usually, I am among the first to notice a need and act. That has been part of how God has shaped me for years. Right now, God has placed me in a different season. I am resting more. I am doing less. I am learning to pay closer attention to what truly belongs to me and what does not.

While my physical sight was diminished, my vision gained clarity and focus.

When we see a need and can meet it, responsibility follows. Sometimes we wait for someone else to do what God has placed directly in front of us.

An Acappella song has played repeatedly in my mind during long, wakeful nights as I wait for healing and allow God to refine my purpose. Everybody Said delivers its message with humor, but also with conviction. Everybody assumes somebody else will do the work. Anybody is capable. Too often, nobody acts.

Scripture names that tension clearly.

“If anyone, then, knows the good he ought to do and does not do it, he sins.” (James 4:17)

James is not describing ignorance. He is describing awareness without action. Knowing creates responsibility. Clarity calls for a response.

Seeing a need is not an accident. God often allows us to notice because He has already equipped us to respond. Scripture reminds us of this truth:

“For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance as our way of life.” (Ephesians 2:10, BSB)

Obedience does not require attention or applause. Faithful action often happens quietly, in ordinary moments, by people who choose not to look away.

Do not wait for somebody else to take action.
Everybody needs to be somebody.

I was only a few years older than she was, with a four-year-old and a new baby of my own. On that day, I became the “older woman” from Titus 2. I did not step into that role because I was wiser, stronger, or more mature. I stepped in because I had a foundation of faith. Even so, I have always wrestled with that role.

I was raised in a Christian home. As a preacher’s kid, I was constantly surrounded by Bible study and truth. During my single years, I gave little thought to what my role should be within the faith community. After I married and moved across the ocean with my husband, I experienced the shift for the first time. That move stripped away my existing support net, placing an ocean between me and my friends and family. We could still talk, but I couldn’t just drive to see them for an afternoon or a weekend. I had to learn how to build a new network in a new place, through some big challenges, including a miscarriage. That transition taught me to rely more deeply on God than ever before.

Now, at 45, serving in leadership, I still feel the tension. I am both a younger and older woman at the same time. I continue to learn and seek guidance from mentors, even as others look to me for wise counsel.

In Ephesians 4:1, Paul encourages us to “walk worthy.” Whatever our age, our calling is to step into purpose with humility, even when we feel unprepared. As Mordecai reminded Esther, each of us is placed in our unique position “for such a time as this.” God equips us through our experiences and uses them to help others.

Titus 2 does not give us an age when a woman suddenly becomes an “older woman.” The instructions Paul gave show us a pattern of women teaching other women how to live faithfully. The call to teach and mentor does not require reaching the end of the road before helping someone who is a little farther behind.

We are not called to impress. We are called to live faithfully and to share what is good. The quiet, often unseen acts of faithfulness matter. Your love, service, and kindness are seen by God and remembered by others. In this way, faith is handed down from person to person. The Church grows through slow, quiet, and faithful relationships.

Perhaps you can think of people who offered you kindness and friendship. As they shared their stories, from struggles to triumphs, you experienced comfort and encouragement. Your story could do the same for someone else! Letting your light shine, even in uncertainty, might be what leads someone else out of a storm and into safe harbor.

This calling is beautiful, but it can also be heavy. Even Jesus withdrew to quiet places to pray and rest, reminding us that rest is not weakness—it’s wisdom. In Matthew 11:28, He says, “Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” If we want to pour into others, we must also allow space for God to pour into us.

Caring for your soul is not selfish; it is essential. Set healthy limits, remembering that Jesus is the Savior; you are not. “No” is a complete sentence. Seek someone who can encourage and pour into your life. Spend time with God to renew and prepare, embracing rest as an act of obedience.

Mentorship begins when you invite someone into your walk with God and are willing to walk beside her in hers. Start small. Ask someone, “How can I pray for you?” Invite a younger woman into your everyday life. If you’re looking for a mentor, start with prayer. As you seek leadership, look for a life marked by obedience rather than charisma. Sometimes all it takes is asking, “Could we meet or talk sometime?”

Mentorship is not about having all the answers. It is about showing up, walking together, and pointing toward Christ.
Titus 2 is not an assignment for the distant future, but an invitation for today. Someone already sees you as her older woman in the faith. Walk with her. Invite her into your story. Share what others have shared with you.
You are not stuck in the middle. You are walking the path of faith. God can use what He has already taught you to help someone else. You never know who is watching and needs exactly what God has given you.

As God’s fellow workers, then, we urge you not to receive God’s grace in vain. For He says: “In the time of favor I heard you, and in the day of salvation I helped you.” Behold, now is the time of favor; now is the day of salvation!

2 Corinthians 6:1–2

“My” Tom Jones was also a singer, though not famous to anyone other than our church family. He jumped into leading singing. One week, he approached my mom and asked if she knew a particular song. When she said she did not know it, he declared, “We’re going to learn it!” So they did. Every time I hear or sing the song, I think of him. Sometimes, we get so used to what we’re singing that we don’t pay attention to the words. When I read the words of this song, it’s a promise and a way of life. The song is “I Love the Lord.”

Tom Jones was diabetic and legally blind, yet he did not make excuses to avoid serving. In spite of his limitations, he created beautiful things through carpentry. Because he was legally blind, he worked from a pattern in his mind. He and my dad made an amazing cabinet (it’s called the Tom Jones cabinet) that now sits in my schoolroom. It’s held everything from toys and stuffed animals to school and craft supplies, batteries, and extension cords and even served as a pantry and bookshelf. It’s been in three states, eight houses, and two storage facilities. He also made my cradle, which is now overflowing with my daughter’s stuffed animals.

He didn’t let what he couldn’t do get in his way. You can wait forever for the perfect time, or you can take action.

Years later, while living in Colorado Springs, our preacher called us to “man the lifeboats!” He referenced the hymn, Let the Lower Lights Be Burning and talked about how Christians are a beacon of hope for the lost. The illustration stuck with me.

Over the years, through seasons of loss, transition, uncertainty, and change, I’ve learned more about what it means to be a consistent light to others.

Some days, I keep others from being pulled under the waves. On other days, someone throws me a life preserver and moves me to safer waters.

One of the hardest seasons of my life taught me even more about the importance of lifeboats.

In Exodus 17, we read of battle. While Moses kept his arms raised, Israel prevailed. If his arms fell, the Israelites also “drooped.” Aaron and Hur each took an arm and held them steady. I watched that picture come to life as people held up those who were grieving. Others held up the people doing the holding. Sometimes we man the lifeboats. Sometimes we are the ones who need to be pulled aboard.

As we go, we hope to get as many people into the lifeboats as we can. We pray that we are a light to those grasping in darkness. We strive to make waves instead of ripples in the lives we touch. We want to make Heaven crowded.

A few days later, “making ripples” would become more than an illustration.

On August 7, we started school and began a new routine. My video that night, entitled “Eat the Frog,” was about doing things you don’t want to do. While recording, I missed a call from my best friend. Usually, we message each other or text, so I initially thought that she called unintentionally.

Until she left a voicemail.

As I listened to her short message, I knew it would never leave me, and that I would never forget the sound of her voice.

“The girls have been in an accident!”

I don’t know how I stayed standing. I don’t know how I found the ability to stay calm enough to return her call. What I know is that moment and the hours that followed changed our lives.

I began praying as soon as I played the voicemail. I kept vigil through the night, unable to sleep, waiting for news. In three hours, my friend lost two of her three daughters.

I dreaded telling my children the next morning. My son had spent part of that day at the youth rally with them. My daughter adored them. I loved them, and could only love them more if they were my own.

In the following days, I witnessed an outpouring of love for my friend and her family from all corners of the earth. Ella and Aranza touched many lives in their daily activities. They never met a stranger. They befriended the friendless, listened to the lonely, and included the outcast. No one had to sit alone at the lunch table if Ella or Aranza was present.

As I shared information, I remembered my conversation with my son about ripples. At that moment, I said:

“These girls didn’t make ripples. They made waves.”

Thousands of lives were touched because of these young ladies.

Everything we know can change in an instant. We don’t always realize the impact we have on other people. Ella and Aranza showed how seemingly small acts of love and kindness can reach farther than we could ever know.

Making waves doesn’t always begin with something big. Sometimes, it begins by making sure no one sits alone.