Dear Friends,

This end-of-the-year letter is going to be more personal than usual, so please
indulge me if I get a little sappy. Before I pull out the tissues, though, I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who has prayed for me or given to my ministry this year. This is Daymark’s THIRTIETH YEAR of providing affordable Christian counseling to Birmingham! That’s a special anniversary to me because I was one of Daymark’s first clients—one of the first beneficiaries of our sliding scale, one of the first to experience counseling that balanced a Gospel-centered approach with a respect for research and training. It’s an amazing privilege to be not just part of the ministry, but part of the FRUIT of the ministry!

At our recent benefit concert (and I hope some of you got to come and see the Corner Room work their musical magic that night!), Gordon Bals mentioned that in thirty years we have never turned anyone away due to financial need. He told the staff later about the early days when he just couldn’t imagine where the money would come from to support a ministry like Daymark. But then God would send what was needed and the doors would stay open. We still operate on that kind of faith.

O.K., so now for the personal part. This fall has brought a lot of loss to my life. In mid-October, I sat in the hospital with my dying father-in-law, holding his hand as he struggled through his last hours. It’s hard physically to watch someone die. I think it has a resonance in your own body. As it was happening for me I thought about all the clients I have sat with in grief, and I realized that there are parts of their stories I have missed—mainly the way sorrow touches them at core physical levels. I have been with them, but not with them.
 

I was exhausted after going through that with my father-in-law, and then, just a few weeks later, my own dad passed away. This time my pain went deep, all the way to the roots of childhood. I got to be with dad for most of his last day, and when it was over I felt a heavy fatigue along with a sadness that I’m still feeling. Every memory, even the good ones, seem dangerous to think about (I’m still working through this). I also came down with the flu almost as soon as I got home, and I’m just now starting to feel like I want to be somewhere that isn’t a couch or bed. Sickness and grief have felt like two ropes coiled around me. I’m not sure how to get loose, or even if I should try.

Once again, I’ve realized that other people’s problems have sometimes just been “words” to me. Yes, I’m generally what you might call a “nice person,” and when clients talk about feeling overwhelmed, wanting to give up, wanting to run away from loss, I am usually doing an okay job of caring. I listen and I empathize, but without a real felt sense of their suffering. Suffering like that can be a scary place to follow someone into. Yet I think I need to ask you to pray for me to have the faith to go there with my people. I would like to stop avoiding grief and suffer with others the way Jesus does. Sounds extremely scary, right?

Thank you once again for your care and support for me in 2026. May God bless you on your own journey, and if he gives you some “extra” this season, please consider helping me and Daymark continue to provide care to everyone who needs it.
 

With gratitude,
Betty Carter