Another blog on prayer, you say? Truth is, it is an area that I continue to grow in. While I crave the written word, and have learned to converse easily with God, there are times when, if I’m honest, I struggle to know what to say. I know that prayer is a responsibility and a…
That song. You know–the one you can’t get it out of your head–and yet, you don’t really want to. “You’re a Good, Good Father, it’s Who You are…” “…And I’m loved by You, it’s who I am.” [Chris Tomlin] Being a parent is the hardest, most rewarding job on the planet, and the reality is–…
The problem with falling down is not just the initial shock or the pain of blunt force trauma to your backside, but the consternation and wounding of your pride as others look on. Worse than that is when the fall is not physical at all, but a spiritual, emotional or moral tumble that leaves you…
Every day you wake up thinking, “maybe today will be the day someone finds her.” Our story is a common one, unfortunately. Looking for a lost dog, we have heard all kinds of stories about beloved pets who decided to journey into the unknown. So I pray. Of course I pray. The creator of the…
It was a small thing, really, but when I swerved my car to avoid hitting it, somehow the image of that upside-down turtle wouldn’t go away. “Turn around.” It wasn’t a big booming voice, but a quiet whisper of reason. My reasons for not turning around went something like this: “You’ll be late–again.” “There’s no…
Sometimes it is of our own doing. Sometimes it comes because of the hard circumstances of life. That familiar, not so friendly state of feeling frustrated. Desperate. Lonely. Tired. Tired of where we are but not sure how to turn the corner and move past this place that seems, well, muddied. Like the familiar story…
I don’t like the spotlight. I have always been a wallflower and would rather be in the background than center-stage. Being a pastor’s wife doesn’t always accommodate my insecurities, so learning to accept being uncomfortable has been a journey that started long ago… I can still remember squirming in my seat as a young girl…
If I could earn my way to heaven– if I could work hard to be the best version of me, it would never be enough. I could try to be a loving person who sacrifices and denies myself for the greater good, and while I might feel self-righteous, my holiness would be like filthy rags.…
It’s true, I’ve never seen myself as someone creative. I have a craft closet full of supplies, but I always feel like an imposter. A mimic. I can copy an idea or re-create someone else’s DIY, but I have never really see myself as a true artist. Until I started writing. Blogging is my creative…
It was just a bowl of soup. And a day with my grandson. Coming home at the end of the day, my drive time became a time of reflection and wonder at how blessed I really am. Not in the world’s sense, maybe, but in this girl’s heart I had just had the most beautiful…
Physical touch is a love language that I struggle with. I love to cuddle my grand-babies, but in the adulting world, I am not known to be a big “hugger”. You know the kind of person I’m talking about–that opens her arms and hugs every person with abandon? Yeah, I’m not her, but I have…
Despite the not-so-uncommon view that the hope of this world is found in politics or prosperity or possessions, one brush with eternity, and your perspective can change in a heartbeat. Hope has a name: His name is Jesus. When our youngest was in junior high, he started complaining about pain in the side of his…
In a follow-up to my last post, Whatever You Do, Parents… , I am sharing the first of three things that I want my children (and others) to see in me because of my relationship with God. The world that I grew up in was very different from today. Much of society valued church attendance…
Disclaimer: I am not a parenting expert. (Can anyone really claim that title?) My four children are now grown and I get to enjoy eleven grandbabies. I love my family–from the littlest to the oldest, and I am grateful for every single one of them, and to be clear, we are not a perfect family.…
My story is not a dramatic one, but it starts in the shadow of pain. I was born 10 months after the tragic death of a sister, only eight months old. Pain has a way of shaping you, and my sweet mother was never the same after losing a child. I know. She’s told me.…
