Tag: family

44: Grace in the In-Between

Today I turn 44. Birthdays mark more than candles on a cake — they invite us to pause, to breathe, and to take inventory of both the goodness of God and the weight of life. For me, this birthday feels like standing in the in-between: caught between deep gratitude and very real difficulty.

I am grateful. Grateful that God has sustained me through every season, even the ones I thought might break me. Grateful for family, ministry, and the countless ways love has shown up. Grateful because the testimony of my life is that God has been faithful, even when I have been weary.

But I must also be honest: this year has not been without difficulty. The responsibilities of leadership, the trials that come with caring for others while managing my own humanity, and the silent battles of the heart are all present. To turn 44 is to stand at a crossroads where blessing and burden hold hands.

And yet, maybe this is where true faith is lived out — in the tension. The Apostle Paul once wrote, “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair… struck down, but not destroyed” (2 Corinthians 4:8-9). Those words ring deeply for me today. They remind me that difficulty does not cancel gratitude, and gratitude does not erase difficulty. Both can coexist, and both can shape me into who God is calling me to be.

So as I mark this birthday, I choose to see it as a sacred pause — a moment to honor both the goodness and the struggle. Gratitude tells me God is still writing my story. Difficulty reminds me that I cannot write it alone. Together, they push me closer to the One who knows the plans He has for me (Jeremiah 29:11).

Here’s to 44 — a year of walking honestly in the tension, trusting that even here, in the in-between, God’s grace is sufficient.

A Blessing for Year 44

May the God who has carried you thus far carry you still.

May the weight of difficulty never silence the song of gratitude.

May your steps be ordered, your heart be strengthened,

and your spirit find joy in both the sunshine and the shadows.

And may this year be marked by grace upon grace,

until your testimony shines brighter than your trials.

Amen.

Remembering Honey: A Birthday Reflection on Love, Legacy, and Belief

By Charles W. Ferguson
June 25, 2025

“Her children rise up and call her blessed…” – Proverbs 31:28

Today, my grandmother, Cleona Wilson—affectionately known to me as Honey—would have celebrated her 92nd birthday.

She transitioned in February, and while time has continued its march, my heart still pauses when I think of her. Especially today. On this day, I don’t just remember her—I feel her. In my spirit. In my bones. In the quiet moments when I crave her laugh or wisdom or just one more conversation.


Pictured: My grandfather Charles W. Wilson, my grandmother Honey (Cleona Wilson), and me. Three generations of love and legacy.

Honey was a woman of strength, faith, and endless love. She loved cookies, watching children play, and talking about the goodness of God. But above all, she loved family. She was married to my grandfather, Charles W. Wilson, for an incredible 72 years. That kind of love—steady, tested, and true—is rare and sacred.

She raised three children: Janette (who now rests with her), Charles R., and Teresa. She was a grandmother to both me and my wife, Myrissa. And she was the great-grandmother of our son, CJ. The generational blessings she carried are still unfolding through all of us.

I remember being a little boy and riding in the car with her to Nationwide Children’s Hospital for speech therapy. More than just giving me a ride, she gave me a voice. When doctors and therapists suggested special education placement, she was the one who said “No.” She believed in my intelligence. She fought for it. She saw me when others tried to define me by limitation. That kind of love is life-altering.

That’s why I called her Honey—because her presence was sweet, comforting, and always left you wanting more time with her. She gave freely of herself, yet always had more to give. She was soft-spoken but strong, warm but wise, gentle yet unshakably grounded in truth.

I miss her every day, but today the grief is deeper because the celebration feels quieter without her. Still, I honor her by remembering. By telling her story. By living out the legacy she planted in me.

Honey, thank you—for every ride, every cookie, every prayer, and every time you told me I was smart enough, good enough, and worthy enough. Thank you for choosing to believe in the boy I was and the man I’d become.

We carry you in our hearts. We live what you taught us. We are your legacy.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Honey. I love you always.