From Eden and Abby (the Managing Team):

We have decided to take an indefinite pause from publishing new content in 2026. The site will remain up and running so existing content will still be available. We may publish one off articles here and there over the year.

We are deeply grateful to everyone who has read, shared, and supported New Christian Woman over the years. We are especially grateful for the dozens of amazing ladies from around the world who have contributed the articles that have made this project thrive for over a decade.

Thank you all for being part of this community.

Every calendar year spans twelve months: it starts fresh in January, runs its course through four seasons (more or less, depending on one’s vantage point on the globe), culminates with the Christmas season, reaches a ripe old age and comes to a close, birthing a new year in its wake. This is a cycle that we experience regularly, every 365 days: it is relatively predictable, reliable, and we like that, because it doesn’t require a whole lot of conscious thought. We’ve done it before and, good health and Lord willing, we’ll do it again.

So many other aspects of life happen in cycles, too: from the microcosmic 24-hour day: waking – productivity – rest & recovery, to the mesocosmic human lifespan: birth – creativity – death, not to mention the macrocosmic generations, civilisations and eras experiencing their own stages of birth, fruitful processes and death.

Having familiar daily and annual cycles lends rhythm & routine to our lives, which we find comforting and manageable. This gives us space – ‘mental bandwidth’ – to deal with the less-predictable events that inevitably arise along the way. People are all different, and everyone deals with change in his or her own way, but it’s safe to say that change often incites some measure of instability, to a lesser or greater degree. When the change is positive it can initiate surges of dopamine and oxytocin, while negative changes entail more fight-or-flight adrenaline and cortisol. An important variable, though, is predictability: positive events that we plan or foresee give us time to build up eager anticipation, while negative changes are more palatable, less stressful, when we see them coming. We’re control-oriented creatures: although infants generally go nicely with the flow, they quickly develop into slightly older toddlers who tend to fare better when they understand what’s going on and can wrap their brains around what to expect. “In five minutes it will be time to start getting ready for bed” goes down a whole lot better than a sudden “Ok, time’s up! Put the toys away now, it’s time for bed.” It seems that the more we mature, the more control we want to exert over our lives.

Almost exactly a year ago, I shared an article here about the blessedness of being busy, or rather, of having a well-balanced plateful of uses. Now, I find myself writing this article during an unexpected long-term hospital stay. One moment, I was going about my life as usual, and the next I had to let go of all of my daily routines, chores, errands, and plans. In a blink, the contents of my usually full plate abruptly tumbled from my grasp. 

While this was a shocking turn of events, I am so grateful that the responsibilities and cares on my plate did not crash to the floor. Instead, they were immediately and tenderly gathered up by a throng of angels in training. Family, friends, and neighbors have flown to my family’s aid in various forms: childcare, meals, money, gifts, words of encouragement, prayer, the list goes on. Being on the receiving end of such an influx of care has been a humbling experience to say the least. Sure, things are difficult and not as we want them to be right now, but we are so clearly not alone in dealing with this hardship. We have a village of support. 

One of the most painful aspects of this marathon hospital stay is that I’ve been temporarily displaced as a stay-at-home mom. Never has the old adage, “It takes a village to raise a child” resonated with me more. We are relying on the kindness of family and friends to help us provide the meals and care our children need while I am out of the picture. We would be lost without this village. Even outside times of crisis, I don’t think parents are meant to raise their children in isolation. It is right and good for children to cling to their parents and to look to them first for guidance, but I think it’s also vital for them to experience the mentorship and care of safe friends, teachers, and neighbors. After all, even the best parents aren’t perfect. And the wonderful thing about the human race is that we all have different strengths and uses to share with one another. It’s the same in heaven:

It is autumn in my corner of the world, and we are blessed here in the northeastern U.S. by dramatic seasonal changes that show off nature’s beauty in all its phases. The fall trees, in their reds, burnt oranges, and golden leaves, are magnificent. The changing seasons always highlight how quickly time moves along and how frequently change occurs.

As much as I love fall, I am always wistful to see the passing of warmth and outdoor weather. And at the same time, I know that the changing of external states mirrors the changing of spiritual states. Not all parts of the world experiences these seasonal changes as distinctly, but we all experience changes of states in a day: we always come to night. We human beings are not designed to remain in one state forever, even a very happy one.

This reality is in part on my mind because I was appreciating the especially sweet and tender reconnection with my husband after a tense week. It’s not that we must have disagreements or misunderstandings in order to be close, but rather that overcoming those misunderstandings—and seeking to find each other again after disconnection—brings a special intimacy.

I am reminded that we are told that even angels in heaven experience state changes: 

“…the delight of life and of heaven that angels enjoy because of the love and wisdom given them by the Lord would gradually pall if they were constantly engaged in it, the way it happens for people who are involved in pleasures and enjoyments without variety… Further, by these alternations of delight and discomfort, their perception of and sensitivity to what is good become more and more delicate.” Heaven and Hell 158