The Good Kinds of Settling

We are slowly making our way out of all our boxes. This week, Zach and I were able to move into the parsonage where we’ll be living for the next several years, and I’ve never been more excited about picking which cabinet will house our – quite large – mug collection. If all goes according to plan (which we recognize is a big if), we’ll stay in this house for longer than we’ve stayed anywhere else in our marriage.

When you’ve lived in three houses in three years of marriage (plus several shorter-term stays with friends and family in between those moves), the idea of living in one place for an extended amount of time sounds so good. These are the good kinds of settling – settling down and settling in. The unpacking process has reminded me again about the life Zach and I have built and are building together. Knowing we don’t plan to put anything back in their cardboard boxes for several years has me crying tears of joy while wiping off the dust.

In this process, I’ve also been astounded by the generosity of our church and the willingness of even the youngest members to give where they can, even if it means lugging heavy furniture with us from the basement. It adds to the joy of putting down roots in this place, with these people. It’s one thing to settle in, quite another to do so in a place where we feel so much love not just from within our own home but from the people around us. I’m overwhelmed by the goodness of God to provide this place for us to call home.

The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places,
Indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance…
Therefore my heart is glad
And my whole being rejoices
My body also rests securely.

Psalm 16:6; 9

On Hospitality and Helwys

**This post contains Amazon affiliate links. This simply means that if you click on the links and buy the products listed here, I get a small commission. It does not change the price you pay, it just helps me pay for the costs of this blog!**

This week, I had the privilege of being a guest contributor for the Helwys Society Forum. If you’re interested in reading more on ministry, theology, spirituality, and culture, check them out! You can also read my post on The Practice of Christian Hospitality while you’re there. Also, if you’d like to order a copy of Rosaria Butterfield’s latest book The Gospel Comes with a House Key, which I pull from frequently in my article, you can get your own copy here.

Another exciting reason to head their way more frequently is because Zach was just named their newest regular contributor! I’m excited for others to get the opportunity to get a peek inside his brain and understand more about his academic and spiritual interests as he continues to write more publicly.

If you do get a chance to look at things over at HSF, let me know what you think in the comments below!

Those Paths Keep A-Windin’

Update time!

I know it’s been ages since I’ve posted, but let me tell you, life has been hectic. Also I’ve been being a bit lazy if I’m being completely honest. Just throwing that out there.

Since my last post, Zach and I have once again relocated. When we came back from Cambridge and he started his degree at the University of Glasgow in Scotland, the plan was for us to move this fall to Scotland and spend the time it took for him to finish his PhD (about 2-3 more years) in the U.K. But once again, God’s plans were slightly different than our own.

The more Zach and I considered moving to Scotland, the more we looked at our bank accounts, and the longer it took me to figure out the timeline I’d need to complete my Master’s degree (internship placements are hard to find!), the less sense it made to move again in the fall, or even at the beginning of next year. After talking with his supervisor, Zach began considering what it might look like practically to finish his degree in Glasgow while living stateside. One of the major factors in this decision would be finding work for him that enabled him to make a living wage while still having the time needed to devote to a full-time PhD program.

Cue those opening doors, windows, drawbridges, all of it. When we began to consider this possibility, the pieces just instantly started falling into place. I’ll spare you all the details (but know they’re awesome) and jump to the conclusion of the story – Zach and I moved to Clayton, North Carolina, last week for him to begin ministry as an associate pastor at Tippett’s Chapel Free Will Baptist Church. I start my master’s level internship in the fall at not one, but two (TWO?!) paid placements with really wonderful Christian women. As an added bonus, we live less than 30 minutes from my Nana and her wonderful cooking!

So it’s another crazy bend in this winding path we’re on, but the Lord has been faithful in all the twists and turns before it, and we trust Him to continue cheering the path we currently tread. After all, He leads us all the way.

Counting Our Blessings, Two Years Later

Two years ago today, my Papa was given the privilege of meeting his Savior face to face. A few days later on Good Friday, we, like the disciples a few thousand years before us, felt the mournful reality of death. But unlike the disciples, we knew the rest of the story. On that darkest of days we rejoiced in knowing that while Papa’s body was laid to rest in the ground, his soul was even then worshipping a Savior who conquered death and promised one day to bring all of His children to His side. Papa got to experience that blessing, a fulfillment of his hopes, a bit before the rest of us. His passing left a jagged hole in all our lives that has healed around the edges in the passing days but still remains a fixed part of our family’s reality.

I spoke at Papa’s funeral about his many roles in the family. He truly was the quintessential patriarch, respected and revered for his wisdom and experience and loved dearly for his ability to make anyone laugh and being so quick to tell his grandchildren, “I am so, so proud of you.”

But the one thing that stuck out to me when I was preparing my speech for the funeral, and what has remained a fixture in my mind when I’ve thought of Papa since that time, was his love of music. I’ll always fondly remember him singing hymns in his favorite church pew in his rich baritone and then laughingly singing “Hit the Road, Jack” on every. single. roadtrip. One of his favorite hymns, or at least one that he seemed to sing most often, was Count Your Blessings. Some of Papa’s last breaths were used asking the Lord for grace. And God in His wisdom granted him that grace by giving him ultimate rest in His presence. This must have been his greatest blessing. But the Lord has continued to bless the Parrish family even in the midst of loss. I told those in attendance at Papa’s funeral that we would get through the days ahead by counting our blessings, and I think it fitting to give thanks, to recognize the graces He has shown, to count our blessings today.

  1. The Lord has been faithful to us in the past two years without our Papa. His promises have become more real to us, our hope in the resurrection even more vital to our faith.
  2. Our sweet, sweet Lucy was given to us. I see this as such a tangible reminder that the same Lord that is with His children at the end of life also gives life, and blesses us in ways we couldn’t have imagined.
  3. One of the most touching ways the Lord has blessed me personally in the past two years has been in the ability for me to watch my godly Nana’s unshakeable faith in the face of such heart-breaking loss. She has remained steady because she has built her life on the firm foundation of our unchanging God rather than the ever-changing circumstances of this life.

Even with these blessings, the past two years have been hard. This day will always carry the sting of loss, the darkness of Good Friday. We will always mourn, but not as those who have no hope. Because Good Friday was when we laid our Papa’s body in the ground. But praise God, Easter morning is a reality we believe in. Friday is dark, but Sunday’s comin’! This is not where the story ends. And until then, through Christ all is grace.

Tea and Leprosy

On Valentine’s Day a few weeks ago, the ladies of Welch College (where I work) hosted a tea for the female students. Each table hostess was given a card with ice breakers and topics to facilitate deep and meaningful conversations with the students placed at that particular table for the hour they were together.

After a few minutes of chatting about silly things and munching on our chicken salad croissants, my table ventured into the deeper conversation starters, beginning with the first questions: “What have you been praying for longest? What is the most recent prayer God has answered for you?” The first question itself left me feeling a bit guilty, as I realized how inconsistent my prayer life often is; was there any specific prayer request that I had frequently brought to the Lord? Sure, there were desires in my life I wanted to see filled, family members I wanted to see reconciled with God, but how often do I intentionally bring those burdens before the throne of God in prayer?

As we went around the table each student shared prayers they were praying for themselves or others, and then the conversation gradually shifted to answering the second question: What prayer has God recently answered for you? This question brought quite a few smiles as we considered ways the Lord was answering our prayers and working in our lives.

Then Chelsea spoke up.

“I’m afraid I often don’t recognize the prayers God answers for me, because life just gradually gets better or a situation goes back to the way I think it should be and I move on with my life.”

Her words struck a chord with me. I said, “In some ways, we are all the nine lepers Jesus healed who don’t remember to return and thank their Healer.”

I’ve been stuck on this idea for the past two weeks since the conversation, and since my Bible reading this week from Leviticus even discussed what a leper must do to be counted as clean again by the priest, the thought remained quite fresh in my mind. My reading even brought more clarity to the gospel account, because lepers would not be considered as truly healed until the priest announced them “clean” again. There were detailed sacrifices and rituals that had to be done for those who had once been afflicted to resume a normal place in society.

So, maybe the nine got caught up in the ritual. Maybe they were so overwhelmed with all the rights they had regained that they had to find family and friends to rejoice with over their good fortune. It’s a little understandable. In fact, as the student at my tea table pointed out, it’s something we’re quite good at, if we’re honest.

For the Christian, Christ has been Healer and Redeemer for us in a way just as powerful and life-changing as those ten lepers. Yet we are all too prone to go our way and forget the Source of our freedom. We rejoice in the changes we see in our lives, both from His work of salvation and the ongoing redemptive work He is working in and through His people, but often we stop there. We revel in the results, the benefits; we neglect the Giver of all good gifts.

Instead, let’s work to cultivate in our hearts the response of leper number ten:

“Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving him thanks.”

Bring your burdens to the Lord, friends. And then bring your gratitude back to Him when He helps carry the load.

Flight Delays & Fancy Dress

This past week, Zach and I, along with his parents, took a trip to the UK for his Cambridge graduation. It was the first time out of the country for my in-laws, and boy, did they get a crash course in trans-continental traveling! Zach and I were supposed to meet them in Atlanta where we would all be on the same flight to London, then catch a bus to another London airport to fly on to Glasgow. We thought we would be available to guide them through the airport maze and answer any questions about customs and border patrol.

But you know what they say about best-laid plans…

As Zach and I were walking away from the check-in counter in Atlanta where we’d just sent off our checked bags, Zach got a call.

“Hey, our plane to Atlanta has a problem with its brake system. They’re working on it and will tell us soon how long it will be before we can take off.”

Thus began hours of phone calls, delays, and scrambling to re-book flights and convey as much information as possible via text, while Zach and I flew over the Atlantic several hours ahead of his parents. They stepped up to the challenge of navigating these new experiences like pros, though, and met us in Glasgow later the next night. They even chose to walk the mile from the bus station with us to our Air BnB instead of catching a cab! We Vickerys are a strong bunch.

After all of that craziness, the rest of the trip was fairly smooth (and very cold!). We spent the next day and a half enjoying Glasgow while Zach met with his supervisor, and then it was on to Cambridge for the rest of the week. We enjoyed as much of Cambridge history, architecture, and food as possible in the few days we were there, even fitting in an Evensong Service at King’s College Chapel. And if Mrs. Susan’s FitBit data is to be believed, we walked a total of 145,834 steps (that’s 69.21 miles for those of you following along at home)!

Then came Saturday and Zach’s graduation ceremony. He got all dressed up in his academic robes and white bow tie and paraded down the streets of Cambridge with other members of his college on the way to the Senate House. He told me that was when he felt most like a Cambridge student. Then he stood with other members of Magdalene College while the Praelector told the Deputy Vice-Chancellor of the University of Cambridge (in Latin, of course) that he deserved to have his degree conferred upon him due to his moral and academic standing. He knelt in front of the Vice-Chancellor (whose voice sounded just like Judy Dench) and she clasped his hands and, to put it in his words, “spoke some Latin at him.”

We met him outside the Senate House for pictures and admired his diploma. He was very happy to be allowed to walk on the grass, which, if you’ve ever been to Cambridge is much more exciting than it may seem.

We wrapped up our trip with a whirlwind tour of London and then it was back across the pond (and back to work) for our very tired, very happy group!

7 Amazon Finds to Help You Keep Your New Year’s Resolution

**This post contains Amazon affiliate links. This simply means that if you click on the links and buy the products listed here, I get a small commission. It does not change the price you pay, it just helps me pay for the costs of this blog!**


If you’re anything like me, getting out of bed to go to the gym is becoming harder and harder to do as January (cold, cold January) wears on. Maybe you’re still on top of all your New Year’s resolutions. Or maybe, like me, you need a bit of a push now that the “new-ness” of the year has worn off and 6 a.m. runs aren’t as fun as they were two weeks ago, or becoming a more organized person is harder than you thought.

If you find yourself in that boat, here are a few gifts you can buy yourself with that leftover Christmas money.

1. A Journal to Get You Organized

I got a bullet journal for Christmas in 2017 and it certainly helped me stay on task with my goal to be more organized in 2018! This year, I’m simplifying the way I bullet journal to help this practice better meet my needs. In other words, my spreads may not be Instagram-worthy, but they get the job done! If you’re wanting to know more about Bullet Journaling, the creator of the method just released a book explaining the system and why it works, which you can buy here.

2. A Book to Get You Motivated

This was one of maybe three non-fiction books I read last year and it was by far the one I most enjoyed. If you want to read more about the science behind sticking to your goals but also like to read stories much more than you want to hear statistics, this book is for you!

3. A Belt to Keep You Running

There’s tons of versions of these, but I like a belt that has multiple pockets but doesn’t look like a fanny pack, circa 1997. When I ran my first 5k this past Thanksgiving, my aunt was able to keep keys, tissues, and even mints in her fancy-schmancy belt. I use mine to keep my phone and keys with me but out of the way during outdoor runs. And maybe for you, purchasing a practical accessory like this will give you one less excuse not to make time for that early morning jog!

4. A Bath Pillow to Help You Relax

Zach bought me this as a Christmas gift this year and I have never taken more baths in the month of January than I have in 2019! This pillow is super easy to attach and remove, and it does a great job of keeping your upper back and neck from having to touch the too-cold bathtub rim while you’re relaxing after a long day. Also, this is totally a purchase you can get if your New Year’s resolution was to burn more calories, because a recent study found that sitting in a hot bath can actually burn as many or more calories as a 30-minute walk! So, #treatyoself friends.

5. Some Aromatherapy to Help You Sleep

I got these for Christmas, too! They don’t smell strongly of lavender, but they do give off just enough of an aroma to leave you feeling peaceful and ready for a restful night of sleep. Add these to your 2019 self-care regimen (and make your nose happy while you burn those calories!).

6 & 7. Some Great Books that Remind You to Relax


Zach and I got these books for each other for Christmas this year, and I’ve already loaned my copy to two special women in my life!


These aren’t your typical productivity or self-help books, but my goodness were they helpful for us to consider. Reset was written first and is directed toward men, while Refresh was adapted from this first book to address similar needs from a woman’s perspective. Both books remind us that the pace in which we live our lives flows from the way we see God and ourselves. Each book is a really quick but great read when you need to remember the importance of a grace-paced life, especially in this first-of-the-year, perfection-obsessed season.

The Joy of Unplugging

Over Thanksgiving, Zach and I traveled to Alabama to spend time with our families for the holiday weekend. We stopped first with my grandparents in Northern Alabama before making our way further south to see the Vickerys. We had a wonderful time eating, laughing, and even running (I ran my first 5k after my aunt asked me the night before the race if I wanted to join her!).

On the way to our first stop with my grandparents, Zach and I talked about how much we looked forward to our trips to their house as a time to unplug and live a bit more simply, to breathe a bit more deeply. We knew our time would be rushed but still looked forward to the peacefulness that comes from any time spent at “the lake house”. In all the craziness of the past year, a few days with spotty cell service and lots of home-cooked food sounded like perfection.

One of the holiday traditions in my Mom’s family is putting together (ridiculously difficult) puzzles during our stay each holiday. This year we completed two 1000-piece puzzles in the two days Zach and I were there. It was equally frustrating and fun to work through the puzzles together, personal space becoming minimal as we all reached across each other for the perfect piece to complete our chosen sections. 

It’s remarkable how much better a conversation becomes when phones are put away and hands are busy shifting puzzle pieces rather than scrolling news feeds. And without the television blaring, the stories shared were more poignant, my brother-in-law’s wit more biting (and hilarious), and the laughter of my sister and me much louder. Even though our time was short, it felt like all a Thanksgiving should be. The viral video could wait. I needed my hands to hold my sweet niece (or shovel down some macaroni and cheese!).

When we made our way to Zach’s family, the television and cell service was present, but the family still spent quite a bit of time outdoors battling it out in a home run derby. Watching my father-in-law hit the dirt after my mother-in-law launched a hit right at him was much higher quality entertainment than anything I could’ve found online. 

I wish more of life could be spent at the lake house, or outside in a home run derby. We all could use some time this holiday season without cell service. Because when our hands are full of technology, we miss the chance to hold onto all the truly good gifts we’ve been given. The holiday memories made together will mean much more in the years to come than how many people liked our Christmas selfies or the amount of laughs our throwback holiday photo garnered. So let’s plug in the lights on the tree, turn off the television, and put away the phones. Let’s be together this Christmas with grateful, open hands.

A Girl Called Norman

“Tragedy has struck…”

My stomach churned as I felt an odd sense of what those words might mean. There were no details in the Facebook post, but in my mind I immediately sensed at a gut level what had occurred. I hoped I was wrong and continued scrolling.

This morning, I stumbled upon the post that proved me right and confirmed my fears.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. This story doesn’t begin with a Facebook post. It really begins twelve years ago, but we’ll start with the chapter with which I’m most familiar. This past June, Zach and I had the opportunity to represent our undergraduate alma mater at the church youth camp Zach had attended as a teenager. I had visited the camp once before as a college representative, and both of us were excited to be back.

The week before we left, I began praying that God would use me to lead the young girls I would meet toward Himself and His grace. He answered that prayer by bringing me girls full of hurt. My heart broke as I listened to a few girls talk calmly, even flippantly, about being sexually abused by family members and how their mothers left because “she didn’t love us anymore.” So matter of fact. So…clinical.

And then, there was my Norman. My family has always used the name “Norman” to refer to a person in our lives that God sends our way. This person is placed in our path for us to minister to them, but often their personality clashes with our own or leaves us feeling worn down and annoyed. Even so, we meet them with the knowledge – a nudge by God Himself, perhaps – that we have been called to love this person and thus show them the love God has for them. The name comes from a book and movie that I watched in the early 2000s, and the idea has stuck with us all these years later.

This Norman was very unlike the original Norman from the story; mine was a petite, active, and inquisitive pre-teen girl with curly blonde hair rather than the large, lumbering male that inspired the moniker. Their need for love and attention was the same. Throughout the week I would find her plopped on my bed with another question about why she had to follow the dress code or if her inner thoughts and feelings were normal. I sat with her in some of the services and tried to help her focus on the Word of God. I’m not sure I was as patient as I could have been, but even so she took to me. I even had an opportunity to pray with her when she felt doubts about her relationship with God.

Fast forward to this week and the foreboding post I saw. When I read the word tragedy and the name of her youth group in the same sentence, I immediately saw her face, felt intuitively that tragedy had come to her. Unfortunately, I was right. For reasons unknown to me, my Norman lost her life to suicide this week. She wasn’t even a teenager yet.

I don’t really have words to provide application for this post. Not today. Not other than to say, love your Normans, friends. Love those who annoy you, who cling to you, who are so very, very different. Love them most of all.

It’s Okay to Be Needy

I was recently telling a friend about one of my husband’s pet peeves. Often, as he tries to get ready in the morning, I feel a compelling need to be shown love and affection right. at. that. moment. He’s halfway through buttoning his shirt or straightening his tie, even mid-way through brushing his teeth, and I’m engulfing him in a hug or invading his personal space, lips puckered, waiting for a kiss. He is not amused. It does not seem to leave him with the warm fuzzies I feel during those moments. I guess I just have to keep trying!

This week, he is away getting some of our things we left in storage in England and meeting with his advisor in Glasgow. There are no morning routines for me to interrupt. At the same time, there has been a deluge of information parading around me about the importance of independence, but the blessing of community. In our hyper-individualized culture, we all crave community and connection, but the characterization of being dependent on others or needy? We avoid that like the plague. We all want to be strong, independent women who don’t need no man. Or whatever.

I am all about healthy boundaries (regardless of what my morning routine of compulsive affection-giving may indicate). I also prize the individual hobbies and interests Zach and I have and our ability to maintain a personal life that isn’t completely encompassed with the other. However, I also recognize that my husband makes me a better person. Beyond simply liking it when he’s around (which I do! A lot!), being apart from him for any extended period of time helps me recognize my need for him to keep me accountable with my goals, focused on the good in life, and committed to adulting rather than whiling away my hours on Netflix as I would otherwise be wont to do. Can I do these things on my own? Yeah, but it’s much more difficult.

My neediness extends beyond my marriage, though. I spoke last post about the women’s book study I have been able to be a part of this semester. Each week, I’m confronted with my need for godly women of varying backgrounds and ages to speak wisely and lovingly into my life. I need mentorship and the opportunities to converse, cry, and rejoice with women on various stages of their life journeys. I could sit at home alone and read my Bible, pray every day. In fact, I should be doing those things on an individual level. But if that’s all I get? I am missing out, and so are the other members of the church.

And if this weekly reminder of my need for others were not enough, this week our church held a special service focused on covenanting together as a body of believers. I had already begun writing this blog, but I was reminded once again in the sermon that God calls us to meet together, to share with one another the ways the Lord is working (or seeming silent) in our lives. We need one another to spur each other on to good works. God’s Word tells us that we need to be needy. We just can’t go it alone. We need the Lord and His grace above all things, but we also need one another.

So be independent. Be strong. Be productive and efficient and successful. But don’t be an island. See the needs of others and meet them if you can, but recognize your need for others, too. Learn to be okay with being needy.