In our younger years, many of us carried a quiet ache in our faith. We felt behind, frustrated, or even condemned by our lack of discipline, devotion, or desire. We wondered if something was wrong with us. Were our longings selfish? Were we immature because we didn’t always crave long hours in the Word the way other women seemed to?

I’ll never forget the night I babysat newborn Wren so her parents, my daughter Keziah and her husband Forrest, could sneak away for a quiet dinner. Before they left, Keziah nursed her, and I gently swaddled that sweet baby and laid her on her side in the cozy Moses basket beside me on the couch. I couldn’t take my eyes off her tiny pug nose, that silky dark hair; she looked so much like her momma.