Saturday, October 24, 2026

God Knows the Difference

I recently heard Hank Smith share some inspiring words about the phrase “do your best” that made me want to shout, YES! He suggested that instead of always telling ourselves to “do your best,” perhaps we should think in terms of “do what you can.”

I understood exactly what he meant. We can put so much pressure on ourselves with the idea that our “best” has to be our highest possible performance every moment of every day. That simply isn't realistic. Hank also taught that If we were operating at our absolute best every moment, eventually that wouldn't be our best anymore. It would just be our average.

But the more I thought about his message, the more I realized that, for me, “do your best” and “do what you can” really mean the same thing. Maybe the problem isn't the phrase “do your best.” Maybe it is what we sometimes think “your best” is supposed to mean.

To me, doing my best doesn't mean being perfect. It doesn't mean performing at my highest level every day. It means doing what I am capable of doing at this time, on this day, with what I have.

Some days I can do more than others. Some days I have more energy, more strength, more focus, and more to give. Other days, getting through the things that need to be done takes everything I have. My best on those days may look very different from my best on another day. But if I honestly give what I have, then that is my best.

Hank shared an example of this as found in Mark 14. A woman anointed Jesus with very expensive ointment, and some people criticized her for what they saw as a waste. But Jesus defended her. He told them to leave her alone because she had done what she could. I love that. She didn't do everything. She didn't satisfy everyone watching her. She simply did what she could.

And when the voices, whether from others or from within, criticize our mistakes, our weaknesses, or our shortcomings, maybe we can remember the Savior's response: “Leave her alone. She is doing what she can.”

That doesn't mean “do whatever you feel like doing.” There is a difference between recognizing our limitations and making excuses. Sometimes I really can't do more. Other times I don't want to do more. Those are not the same thing.

Doing our best still requires honesty and diligence. Sometimes doing what we can means pushing ourselves, stretching ourselves, and doing something difficult even when we don't feel like it. Other times, doing what we can means recognizing that we have reached our limit.

And I KNOW God knows the difference.

Almost every day is hard for me right now. I have to push, stretch, and reach just to take care of the things that need to be done. Sometimes even ordinary things take more effort than I wish they did. I don't want it to be that way, but right now, that is how it is. I am learning to give myself grace, not excuses.

Grace doesn't mean I stop trying. It means I recognize that there are moments, and sometimes whole days, when getting through the day takes a lot out of me. I can still move forward without expecting myself to function as though nothing is hard.

I think there is an important question to ask ourselves: Am I honestly doing what I can, or am I using “I did what I could” as an excuse for not doing what I am capable of doing?

I may not always know the answer myself. But God does. He knows when I am making excuses, and He also knows when I am giving everything I have, even when what I have to give looks very small compared to what I might be able to give on a different day.

And He knows that about every one of us. We cannot always know what someone else is capable of giving because we don't know their circumstances, their struggles, their capacity, or what it took for them to simply show up that day.

The Savior's response to the woman in Mark 14 is so meaningful. He knew exactly what she could give, and He accepted what she gave.

So I don't think Hank Smith is saying that we should lower the bar. I think he is reminding us to be realistic about what our “best” actually is.

Your best today may not be your best tomorrow.  Maybe “do your best” really does mean do what you can. Some days that will be a lot. Some days it will be very little. But if I honestly give what I have, keep moving forward, and don't use my limitations as an excuse to quit, then perhaps that really is doing my best.

And God knows the difference.

Saturday, October 10, 2026

Three Little Words

 

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about motivation, or, more accurately, my lack of it sometimes. I keep searching for answers, trying to understand how I can become better at doing the things that matter to me. You’d think that knowing something needs to be done would be enough to get a person moving, but that’s not always how it works for me.

A few months ago, I was saying a prayer and asking Heavenly Father for help with this very struggle. As I prayed, three little words came into my mind: Just do it.

I’ve thought about those words a lot since then. They’ve become a kind of crutch for me, especially in the mornings. When it’s time to get out of bed and I don’t particularly want to, I hear those words. Just do it. And somehow, I’m able to swing my legs over the edge and stand up.

Now, that might not sound like much, but some mornings, it’s a pretty good start.

This morning, I decided to make a sign with the words Just do it and put it around my home to remind me of that prompting. As I was working on it, another word popped into my mind.

PRIMER

It felt like a strange thought at first, almost out of place. But then I remembered how I used to have to prime the lawn mower before I could get it running. That little bit of preparation helped the engine wake up. The primer got things ready for what came next.

And suddenly, it made perfect sense.

I started thinking about how many things in our lives need a little priming before we can get them moving.

And then it hit me. Just do it was my primer.

Of course, the phrase Just do it can sound harsh if the tone is wrong, almost like someone snapping, Quit making excuses. But somehow those same three words have become gentle for me. Encouraging. They remind me that I can begin right where I am, even when I don’t feel ready. I love that something so simple has become such a helpful reminder in my life.

And isn’t it interesting how taking that first step can change things? Sometimes, once I get moving, I find a little more energy. My mood begins to lift, and something that seemed difficult to start doesn’t feel quite so hard anymore. One small step can lead to another, and before I know it, my day is going in a better direction.

As I thought more about this, I realized there are other things that help me get moving in the right direction too. Time with my family can lift my spirits and remind me of the joy that comes from being together. Prayer helps me feel connected to Heavenly Father and seek His guidance. Scripture study often gives me something to think about or helps me see things a little differently. These things don’t necessarily change what’s happening around me, but they can change what’s happening inside me.

We all have things that help prepare us for what comes next. Other primers might be conversation with a friend, a walk outside, listening to music, or spending a little quiet time alone. Maybe it’s something that reminds you of who you are or what matters most.

I’d never really thought about these things as primers before, but I like thinking about them that way. Sometimes it’s the smallest things that help prime us for a better day or moment.

Heavenly Father often prepares our hearts in simple ways. A thought, a scripture, a moment of clarity. These gentle primers help me move forward even when I feel unsure.

And when I need help beginning again, I lean into the small prompt He gave me, Just do it!

Thursday, October 01, 2026

We All Have Different Variables

 


I believe the first time I ever heard the word variables was in algebra. It's interesting how one little variable can change an entire equation. The more I think about it, the more I realize how much that applies to life.

We are all a little like snowflakes. No two of us are exactly alike, yet we can always find something in common. We can relate to one another, share experiences, and understand pieces of each other's stories. But even when two people seem to be going through the same thing, different variables are at work.

The way we were raised, our gender, life experiences, circumstances, and even the things we carry quietly inside influence how we see the world, respond to others, and treat ourselves.

Comparing ourselves to someone else is a little like comparing two algebra equations without knowing all the variables. We may think we're doing better than someone else, or we may feel like we're falling behind. But how can we really know when we don't have all the information?

The important thing isn't to compare, but to relate. To find common ground while recognizing that each of us has a different set of variables.

That's a reminder to be a little slower to judge and a little quicker to understand. ❤️

Wednesday, September 30, 2026

NO PARKING. WRONG WAY.

I think being able to write is one of the greatest blessings in my life. Writing helps me sort through my thoughts and feelings, especially on the days when my mind feels full and I need a place to unload. This morning was one of those days. I tried to rest for a while, hoping to quiet everything inside me, but my thoughts kept moving. So I got up and began to write, because writing is how I find clarity.

As I stepped onto my front porch, I see two signs. One says NO PARKING ANY TIME. Right underneath it is another that says WRONG WAY. I live in a neighborhood with a strip of grass between the homes across the street, so you can only drive one direction on each side. At least that is the intention. The NO PARKING sign is there for a reason I am not completely sure of, but I am sure their is a purpose.

Just as the sign instructs cars not to park on that side of the road, I have noticed that sometimes I “park” in places in my life where there really should be a no‑parking sign. I have parked in disappointment, in regret and in grief perhaps a little longer than I should. Sometimes I park in familiar places simply because they feel comfortable, even when they are not good for me. But writing helps me move along.

There are moments when stopping is necessary. We all need time to sit, feel, grieve, and heal. But stopping is not the same as parking. Parking means staying. Parking means settling in. And sometimes there is a quiet message in the heart that says, “Do not park here.” It is okay to pause, but it is not always wise to stay.

Then there is the second sign: WRONG WAY. I have taken a wrong way a time or two. Sometimes I knew it immediately. Other times I traveled quite a distance before realizing I was headed somewhere I never intended to go. Life can feel just like that. We make choices that take us off course. We may miss the signs or simply get distracted.

But there is something I love about a WRONG WAY sign. It does not say you are a failure. It does not say you have ruined everything. It does not say you should have known better. It simply says, “This is not the right direction to travel.”

I was standing outside talking with a neighbor when a car came down the street going the wrong direction. My neighbor will point to the sign. Some drivers ignored it or don't know what to do, but others stop, roll down their window, say thank you, and turn around.

And that is the beauty of it. Once you know you are going the wrong way, you can turn around. Turning around is not a failure. It is wisdom.

Now put the two signs together: NO PARKING and WRONG WAY. I love the message they create. Do not stay here. Do not keep going this way.

These are just traffic signs, but sometimes God uses ordinary things to get our attention. A traffic sign. A song. A conversation. A scripture. A thought that arrives at just the right moment. Little reminders that help us pause long enough to see where we are and where we are headed.

And in the end, writing really does help me find my way. It gives me purpose and direction. It helps me understand what I am feeling and reminds me where I should not park. When I write things out, I can see more clearly the places that ask me to move on and the roads that invite me to turn around. Writing becomes its own kind of guidance, a quiet way of helping me step forward with a little more clarity and a little more hope.

Monday, September 28, 2026

Sometimes You Just Have to Laugh!

Have you ever done something embarrassing? I have! But I've learned that sometimes the best thing to do is just laugh at yourself. And I mean REALLY laugh! It's good for the soul, and those endorphins don't hurt either!

A few years back when Kelly and I were out of town for work, and I had tossed a pair of casual shoes into my bag. We had decided after work to go for a walk.  I put my other shoes on and we went on our merry way.

One was denim, and the other was black and white. They certainly didn't look like they belonged together, but they felt the same on my feet, and I never noticed the difference!

I actually wore them for a while before I realized they didn't match! When I finally looked down and discovered my mistake, I had to laugh and shake my head!

But of course, I have entertained myself many more times before and since then.

Years ago, I was walking along a sidewalk beside a busy road when I stumbled and fell. It would have been pretty hard for anyone passing by to miss it!

So, what did I do? I tried to gently roll through the fall, stood up, and raised both hands in the air, as if the judges were holding up their scorecards. I gave myself a 10!

I don't know whether anyone was watching, but if they were, I hope I gave them a good laugh. I certainly gave myself one!

Then, just the other day, I took off one outfit and put on another. I turned to the first outfit and apologized because it hadn't made the cut that day. Who does that? Apparently, I do! I always try to give emotional support where needed. 😂

I should pay a little more attention to what I'm doing, but where's the fun in being serious all the time? Life is full of little mishaps, and sometimes we're the ones providing the entertainment! So the next time you do something embarrassing, don't be too hard on yourself. Give yourself a 10, laugh out loud, and enjoy the moment!



Sunday, September 06, 2026

What Does “Okay” Really Mean?

 After my dad passed away, Kelly and I began spending more time trying to care for Mom and help with her needs. We would visit her, call her on the phone, or send her a text. Almost every time, she would tell us the same thing: “I’m okay.”

At the time, I think I understood what she meant. She was okay. She was getting through the day. She didn't need us to worry about her. But it wasn't until four years later, when Kelly passed away, that those words began to have a completely different meaning for me.

After Kelly died, people would ask me how I was doing, and I would say, “I'm okay.” But what did I really mean? What does okay mean? I suppose the answer is different for everyone.

Now it has been more than two years since Kelly's passing, and the truth is, I am okay. But I am still sad. I am still struggling. I am still hurting. I still have moments when I feel the emptiness of losing someone who was such an important part of my life.

So how can I say that I am okay? Maybe being okay doesn't mean that everything is okay. Maybe it means I am learning how to live with what isn't.

There is a song by Matthew West called Truth Be Told that has made me think about this. The song talks about the way we often tell people that we are fine, even when underneath the surface we are hurting. We say everything is under control when sometimes it isn't.

And I understand that. Why do we do that? Why do we say we are fine or okay when, in the quiet moments of our homes, we know that our hearts are still hurting?

Maybe sometimes it is because we don't know how to explain what we are feeling. Maybe we don't want people to worry about us. Maybe we don't want to bring sadness into someone else's day. Or maybe “I'm okay” is simply the easiest way to say, “I'm getting through it.”

I have come to realize that okay doesn't necessarily mean whole. It can mean that I am functioning even though I am hurting. It can mean that I am moving forward even though part of me wishes I could go back. It can mean that I still have sad moments, but those moments don't define every moment of my life.

It can mean that I miss someone terribly and still find reasons to smile. It can mean that I don't understand everything God is doing, but I still trust Him.

And perhaps most importantly, being okay doesn't mean that God expects me to pretend that I am. He already knows. He knows the thoughts I don't say out loud. He knows the tears that come when no one is around. He knows the places in my heart that still hurt. He knows what I miss, what I wonder about, and what I am still trying to understand.

I don't have to hide those things from Him.

Maybe there is a difference between pretending we are okay and being okay while still hurting. I think I am learning that difference.

I am not the same person I was before Kelly died. There is a part of my heart that will always carry that loss. I don't think that part needs to be fixed or erased. It is there because I loved deeply, and love doesn't disappear simply because someone is gone.

So when someone asks me how I am doing and I say, “I'm okay,” perhaps I am telling the truth. I am okay. I am also still sad. I am okay, and I still miss Kelly. I am okay, and I am still learning what this new life looks like. I am okay, and sometimes I cry. I am okay, and sometimes I don't have the answers.

I am okay because I am still here, still growing, still striving, still hoping, and still reaching toward God. Maybe okay isn't a destination where all the pain has disappeared. Maybe okay is a place we can stand while we are still healing, still learning, and still finding our way.

And maybe the most important thing is that when I say, “I'm okay,” God knows the whole truth behind those two little words. He knows I am still hurting. He knows I am still trying. He knows I am still hoping. And He knows that, even with a piece of my heart missing, I am going to be okay.