When Life Feels Heavy: The Book of James, Minnesota, and Presence in it all

Back-to-school season is always bittersweet. My kids’ pencils are sharpened (thanks, Target), the backpacks hang neatly in my kitchen, and the house is a little too quiet after months of summer noise. My heart swells with pride watching my kids grow—and yet aches at how quickly time passes. My babies are somehow in fourth and sixth grade?!? What?!?

This week, though, the bittersweet has felt heavier. The tragedy in Minnesota weighs on my heart, reminding me how fragile life is and how grief doesn’t pause for new beginnings. In the book of James, one verse keeps coming back to me:

“You do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes.” (James 4:14)

It can sound haunting, but it’s also deeply grounding. James isn’t trying to scare us—he’s inviting us to live awake to the moments we’re given, to trust that even when tomorrow feels uncertain, today matters.

As I plan lunches, juggle a Real ID appointment during a busy workday, and help my daughter prepare for a big middle school speech, I’m reminded that these ordinary moments are fleeting—and sacred. Life doesn’t pause for tragedy or exhaustion, but James encourages us to notice the small threads of meaning woven into our days.

This week, I’ve started noticing little reminders—what I call God’s “whispers.” A rainbow after a storm (my son is a rainbow baby, and hours before he was born, the most beautiful rainbow appeared in the sky in Morristown). A friend’s text at exactly the right moment (eventhough she is in the midst of an unspeakable tragedy). My husband’s jokes bubbling up in the middle of a heavy day. These moments are quiet stitches in a larger tapestry, a reminder that we are seen, held, and supported. He has not forgotten us.

James calls us not only to faith but to presence—living out trust in the way we face today. That means holding our kids a little tighter, saying “yes” to my kid’s fav Kidtime Storytime (if your kids havent found this yet, find it! It’s the last wholesome left on YouTube!) even when exhausted, pausing to breathe when my schedule feels overwhelming (work, soccer, cheer, basketball, repeat), and seeking peace instead of immediate answers.

So as backpacks go out the door and the news spins with heartbreaking headlines, let’s remember: the sacred is in the everyday. In the sorrow and the sweetness, in grief and in laughter, life’s threads are being woven in ways we can’t yet see.

May we be present enough to notice them. May we be present enough to say “I love you” to our children, our friends, and ourselves.