by Stacey | Feb 14, 2026 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
Valentine’s Day isn’t always candlelight and roses. Sometimes it’s missed buses, awkward reunions, snow in your boots, or the one person you swore you’d never see again standing in the checkout line behind you. I wrote this little flash fiction romance for anyone who believes love doesn’t have to be perfect to be powerful. It just has to show up.
Valerie Thompson stood in her first-grade classroom, inhaling the lingering scent of cupcakes and glue. Their Valentine’s Day party had been a messy success, but now the desks were cleared of glitter and candy wrappers, and all the children had gone home happy with their stuffed cardboard mailboxes. Her own mailbox sat on the corner of her desk, overflowing with handmade letters and notes from the children. Her heart swelled.
A knock at the doorframe startled her.
“Sorry to bother you,” Brad Parkins said, stepping into the room. The school principal looked every bit the part in his button-down shirt, though the tie he’d loosened betrayed the long day they’d all had. “Peter said he forgot his artwork.
Brad’s son, Peter, was one of Valerie’s favorite students, though she’d never admit it—teachers weren’t supposed to have favorites.
“Let me look.” Valerie sifted through a stack of colorful creations. She pulled out a picture and handed it to him—a carefully drawn image of Peter, Brad, and a woman with long dark hair, standing hand in hand. A small pang of longing shot through her at the depiction of a happy family.
Brad’s ears flushed a deep red as he took the drawing. “Peter thinks our family is missing something.”
His sheepish smile made her heart twinge. Peter’s mom had passed away when he was born. Though his grandmother helped fill the void, Valerie had always sensed the little boy’s longing for a nurturing presence.
“It’s a sweet picture,” she said softly. “Whoever she is, she’s a lucky woman. I hope you enjoy Valentine’s Day with her.” Heat rocketed to her cheeks. Why had she said that? It was completely unprofessional—Brad was her boss.
Brad cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m having dinner with Peter tonight. Our mystery lady is more of a question mark.”
She chuckled, but before she could say anything, Brad surprised her by picking up the box holding her valentines.“Let me carry this to your car. I wouldn’t want you to forget it.”
The gesture touched Valerie. “Thanks.” Together, they walked to the parking lot under the dusky sky, their conversation light and easy.
Later that evening, Valerie sat at her kitchen table, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in her hands. She began to sort through the valentines. Her heart warmed with each one. The children’s earnest messages and wobbly printing made her smile, but one card at the bottom caught her eye. Unlike the others, it was tucked inside an elegant envelope with her name written in bold, confident script.
Curious, she opened it.
“I’ve been too shy to ask you to dinner, so I slipped this card in with my child’s valentine. I hope you’ll meet me for dinner tonight at 6:30 at Mario’s. – A secret admirer.”
Valerie’s breath caught. A secret admirer? Her heart raced as she glanced at the clock—6:10. If she hurried, she could make it.
She dashed upstairs, exchanging her work clothes for a flattering yet comfortable outfit, touched up her makeup, and ran a brush through her long dark hair. At 6:29, she stepped into Mario’s, butterflies fluttering in her stomach.
The maître d’ greeted her with a polite smile. “Do you have a reservation name?”
Valerie froze. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t have a name, only a notecard. She opened her mouth to reply when a small, familiar voice called out.
“You came!”
Valerie turned toward the voice just in time to catch Peter barreling into her legs, wrapping his little arms tightly around her.
She knelt, her hands resting gently on his shoulders. “Peter? What are you doing here?”
Peter’s eyes sparkled. “I told Dad you’d come!”
Heart pounding, Valerie stood and turned to see Brad approaching, his expression equal parts hopeful and amused.
“You really didn’t figure it out?” he asked. “I thought for sure you would when you saw the picture and then I insisted you bring your valentines home today.”
Her gaze darted between Brad and Peter, realization dawning. “The picture was me?”
Peter nodded eagerly.
An embarrassed smile crept across Brad’s face. “Peter thought I needed a little help asking you to dinner. I hope the whole ‘secret admirer’ thing wasn’t too cheesy.”
A mix of surprise and delight bubbled up inside Valerie. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Start with, ‘Yes, I’ll join you for dinner,’” Brad suggested. “And maybe, ‘I’ll be your Valentine.’”
Valerie grinned. “Yes to all of the above.”
Brad’s shoulders relaxed, and Peter cheered, grabbing Valerie’s hand and tugging her toward the table.
As the three of them settled in, Valerie couldn’t help but think that maybe Peter’s picture wasn’t just a wish. Maybe it was a glimpse into the future.
by Stacey | Jan 19, 2026 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
My default coping strategy is to withdraw but stay busy. I fill the margins with productivity so I don’t have to sit too long with whatever is stressing me out. Laundry gets folded. Emails get answered. Projects move forward. On the surface, it looks responsible. Maybe even admirable. And to be fair, sometimes it is helpful. Staying engaged with daily life can keep stress from swallowing me whole. But I’ve learned busyness is only a temporary shelter.
Kevin has been on medical leave far longer than we ever expected. What we assumed would be a short season of uncertainty has stretched into something impossible to “power through.” And as my usual coping methods have proven to be insufficient, I’ve begun to notice how thin the line is between healthy and unhealthy coping.
Healthy and unhealthy coping strategies can look very similar from the outside. Keeping busy can be grounding or it can be avoidance. Withdrawing can create needed space or it can isolate. Staying strong can be faithful or it can quietly refuse help. For me, the warning sign is this: If my strategy helps me function but not feel, there’s probably a better way. The psalmist writes,
“When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy.” (Psalm 94:19)
Consolation requires presence. It asks me not to numb or outrun my emotions, but to bring them honestly before God. Unhealthy coping numbs me; healthy coping draws me into the presence of the Lord. That presence doesn’t magically remove the stress, but it ushers in a kind of joy that can’t be explained apart from Him.
I’ve had to learn new ways to hold the unknown. Some changes have been small, like letting myself name fears out loud instead of tidying them away. Giving myself permission to rest. Sitting with God in prayer without trying to fix the outcome. Some of them are uncomfortable, like asking for help. Admitting I don’t know how this will turn out. Staying emotionally present even when I’d rather distract myself. And reminding myself that I can trust God, no matter how much my circumstances might challenge that trust. And some days, I still default to busyness. Growth rarely looks like a straight line. Paul’s words have become an anchor for me in this season:
“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” (Philippians 4:6)
Not because prayer magically removes uncertainty, but because it keeps me connected when uncertainty remains. Because coping isn’t about escaping, it’s about staying present without being overwhelmed. Faith is able to trust without answers. I still don’t have clarity, but I’m learning to live faithfully without it. And here, right in the unknown, grace has met me.
by Stacey | Dec 19, 2025 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
If this season finds you more tired than triumphant, you are not out of place. God wants to draw near. This prayer is for those suffering sorrows in a season that tells them to sing. It is a reminder that God bends low toward the hurting and His mercies come even to ruined Jerusalems.
A Christmas Prayer
O God of steadfast love and long-remembered promises,
who split the night with angel-songs,
who chose vulnerability,
strength disguised as weakness,
authority swaddled in a manger.
Bend low to me again with the same compassion that moved You to Bethlehem.
You have not forgotten Your promises.
You are tender and faithful in every hidden place.
You bring new morning mercies to a ruined Jerusalem.
Do what only You can do.
For You, Lord, have never broken a promise.
Your faithfulness has spanned generations.
You are worthy of trust; worthy of praise.
No sorrow, wrong, or longing escapes Your attention.
I remember who You are—
the gatherer of lambs,
the renewer of strength,
the lifter of the lowly,
the refuge in trouble.
So I choose praise.
Not because I feel joyful,
but because You remain unchangingly good.
Here I am, Lord.
with lifted hands and a heavy heart.
Remember me,
And lead me through by your faithful hand.
by Stacey | Nov 30, 2025 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.
Romans 5:1-2
Paul’s message of peace through Jesus Christ takes on special meaning during the Christmas season. As we celebrate the birth of Jesus, we remember that He came to bring peace—not just an absence of conflict or a feeling of calm; but peace that reconciles us to God.
When the angels announced Jesus’ birth to the shepherds, they declared, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” (Luke 2:14). This is more than a sentiment of holiday cheer. God ripped open the heavens so the angels could proclaim that salvation had come.
This flesh-wrapped Deity bears the brokenness suffocating you and me. He pieces us back together with His perfection. He doesn’t always change our circumstances, but He always changes us. Christ has come, and He invites us to follow Him from the manger all the way to the cross—where a weary world can finally lay its burden down.
It’s through faith in Jesus that we are justified, meaning we are seen as righteous by God. This justification brings us into a state of peace with God.
Before Christ’s arrival, sin separated humanity from God. But on that first Christmas, God’s answer to our problem was a tiny baby born in Bethlehem. Christmas proves that God knows our greatest need. Christmas is God making a way out from under the heap of wrath poured onto all sinners. Christmas is our way through the hardships.
Through Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, Jesus would tear down the barrier between us and God. The manger points forward to the cross, where Jesus took upon Himself the punishment for our sins and, in exchange, offered us His righteousness. Now, those who have put their faith in Him are justified—declared righteous in God’s sight. This is the true peace of Christmas: peace with God.
Celebrate the peace with God that Jesus brings. The baby wrapped in swaddling clothes is more than a symbol of hope—He was and is our peace.1
Reflection
How does Jesus’ sacrifice bring you peace with God? How does this peace affect your daily life, your interactions with others, and your perspective on challenges? This peace is a gift that transforms you, grounding you in the hope of God and empowering you to live out your faith with confidence and joy.
Prayer
Heavenly Father, thank You for the gift of peace through the Lord Jesus Christ. I am grateful for the justification that comes by faith and for the grace in which I now stand. Help me to fully grasp the depth of Your love as I reflect on Jesus’ sacrifice. Help me grow in my understanding and appreciation of the peace I have with You that came at a great cost. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.
- A version of this devotional first appeared on StaceyWeeks.com December 2021.
Grab your copy at https://www.staceyweeks.com/books/season-of-wonder/
by Stacey | Oct 23, 2025 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
October in Canada drifts in like a quiet sermon. Trees are ablaze with colour and release their leaves without resistance. They don’t struggle with surrender. They don’t cling to what once was; they trust the process of change.
And that, I think, is what faith looks like. A steady leaning into God’s faithfulness. It’s choosing to believe that His grip is sure even when ours falters. Because faith doesn’t mean we stop wrestling; faith threads hope through it, reminding us that even in the tension, God remains good.
We can bring God our unfinished stories—the chapters we don’t yet understand—and trust that He is still writing them toward redemption. His pen does not slip.
In the fiction I write, my characters often reach a moment when they must release what they thought they needed to make room for something far better. It’s a painful grace, that moment of open hands. And that’s what this season can teach us too.
What appears to be loss may, in truth, be the soil of renewal. Autumn isn’t an ending. Beneath the bare branches, new life is already taking root.
by Stacey | Sep 18, 2025 | Devotionals, reflections, and encouragement
I’m part of a group of women reading and discussing Dark Clouds Deep Mercy: Discovering the Grace of Lament by Mark Vroegop. There is so much about this book that I love. Here are some of my favourite quotes from the introduction and chapter one:
Pg 19 – Lament gives “permission to wrestle with sorrow instead of rushing to end it.”
Pg 21 – “Lament is how we bring our sorrow to God. Without lament, we won’t know how to process pain. Silence, bitterness, and even anger can dominate our spiritual lives instead. Without lament, we won’t know how to help people walking through sorrow. Instead, we’ll offer solutions, unhelpful comments, or impatient responses. What’s more, without this sacred song of sorrow, we’ll miss the lessons historical laments are intended to teach us. Lament is how Christians grieve.”
Pg 26 – “Lament stands in the gap between pain and promise”
Pg 36 – “Hurting people are given permission to grieve, but not aimlessly or selfishly. The biblical language of lament is able to redirect a weeping people to what is true despite the valley they are walking through.”
As I continue to dwell on this book and the passages of Scripture it is leading me to study, I remembered a bible study from years ago. I don’t remember the study itself, but I do remember one bit of homework. We were to write a psalm—a song of praise. As I remembered how much I enjoyed that process, I considered the balm it might be to a write a lament—a song of sorrow, declaring my dependance on God in a season of unknowns. Here it is.
To my God who hears, my God who answers,
attend to the cry of my heart.
My steps falter and my strength withers,
But I know You are near the broken.
Yet you feel far away.
Life trembles at every touch.
Fear sits heavy upon my chest —
fear that this burden will not lift,
fear of unwanted change,
fear that stretches into the valley where death casts its shadow.
But You, O Lord, are my help.
Draw near in my confusion.
Take hold of my wavering hand;
quiet my racing mind.
When shadows gather, keep me from sinking;
When the path is hidden, teach me to trust.
Restore what is broken.
Breathe healing into aching bones.
Awaken hope again.
You have not forgotten those who call You Father.
You do not abandon those who wait.
Because You are with me, I will lift my voice.
I will praise the One who keeps His promises,
and find in Your presence a refuge for my trembling soul.
