I re-read the letter. It has become a ritual. A letter penned through the cries of praise. Every year, at the same time – February – the date of my cancer diagnosis. I re-read the letter to remember. Remember the miracle God did through a battle for my life, and my soul. I take just a moment… Read more »
There are certain life moments etched within us which require us to glance back through time and remember. To be reminded how far we have traveled through the struggles and trials with God faithfully by our side.
Continually dwelling in His Word and presence will help us prevent being depleted and working in our own strength.
Gathering a community of women to seek God and His Word
New year, New Look, New Opportunities for Bible Study
The loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, sibling, niece or nephew, in-law, friend or child creates a hole begging to be filled and a seat at the table that remains empty.
What do you say on that day when hearts are broken and feelings are frayed? I learned three things that matter.
My family had no way of knowing or understanding the raging disconnect inside my heart. I wanted so badly to fit in, to find a place that acknowledged my differences, and still welcomed me in.
She would have been fifteen.
For some reason I just assume that I only make girls.
She would have been fifteen.
For some reason I just assume that I only make girls. Being a self-professed girly girl, I soak in all the sugar and spice. Fairy tales and make believe, chasing after dreams like clouds thinking if I jumped high enough I could hold them in my hand.
I haven’t thought about her in a while. But for years thoughts of her consumed my waking moments and my dreams.
It was Christmastime; all was jolly and bright with the gentle mixture of fear. What would motherhood be like and would I be good at it? All I knew was that strong desire to mother was within and we would figure it out together. I would grow into motherhood with each breath she took.
Three days before Christmas something happened. I knew something was wrong, I began to miscarry a dream and a fragile life. I could see it every time I looked in the mirror, fear taunting me. I spent a few hours in an ER room longing to hear a heartbeat that was never meant to beat.
It’s so easy to be consumed by the demands this world urges me to grab on to relating to this blessed season, which has been hijacked by the compulsion to prove something; that I’ve hosted the best parties, prepared the yummiest food, purchased the greatest gifts, strung up the most beautiful decorations, found the ugliest sweaters, created the most creative crafts, shared the wittiest elf-on-a-shelfisms (what in the world?!) Social media would have me believe I am failing and don’t measure up.
Centuries of believers of all ages, languages, cultures, economic groups, and more have been united in a common hope that binds us all together.