A warm welcome to you! Thank you for stopping by. As you read through my pages, I believe you will find that I am just like you—a woman who loves the Lord and cherishes His grace. And, like you, I sometimes grow weary from the journey. I have experienced many difficult places in my life—a brother’s suicide, my mom’s young death, cancer, a prodigal child, extensive unemployment. There have been times when I thought I couldn’t go on. But, God…don’t you love that? But God carried me through and opened my eyes to see Him in my midst. He opened my ears to hear His sweet whispers of love.
Take hope in the knowledge that you are cherished by the One who made you—you are sheltered in the shadow of His wing, close to His heart. It is my prayer that as we get to know one another you, too, will see beyond the veil and will learn to say, “Even so, I walk in the Presence of the Lord”
Lord, Your wondrous love — how can I understand its depth, its all-encompassing reality? Your love is beyond human comprehension and knows no bounds. Oh! How great is Your love!
Even when we don’t deserve it.
Lord, You are the Great King, Almighty God, our Prince of Peace. We worship You, Lord — we worship and adore You.
Turn my eyes on You, away from the difficulties, the broken places. Whisper my name, and I will come running. Shine Your light in my darkness and I will rejoice, for You are my God.
Lord, Your love, Your grace, Your mercy astounds me. The lengths You go to make Yourself known to us is staggering. Teach us the necessity of reciprocating that relationship — to make room for You in our hearts, making time to seek You first.
The very essence of Christmas is celebrating Your birth. You came to earth so that we could know You. Yet, there is nothing about being still during this busy season. Shoot! We can barely find time to worship corporately, much less sit quietly before You, making You a priority.
We hiked across the hills of the Christmas tree farm. Evergreen boughs stretched regally toward the sky. Balsam fragrance teased our nostrils with the scent of Christmas as chainsaws roared around us.
Delighted families oohhhed and ahhhed when their perfect Christmas tree toppled into waiting arms. Again and again, I was struck by balsam fragrance wafting across the mountainside.
Lord, You reminded me this morning that You go before me. You said, Don’t be afraid, I am with you. I will fight your battles as you trust Me and yield to My authority.
Open your eyes to see my chariots of fire all about you.
I thank You for that encouraging word, Lord. Your faithfulness to preserve and protect Your children is such a blessing. You cover me with Your wings and I am safe.
The fight has been especially brutal lately …
A song in the wind whistled through the pines. I pulled my jacket closer to keep out the chill, and picked up my step to reach the sunburst just ahead.
Looking up, I took in the majesty of a November sky. I could hear the wind’s song — like a melody played on the strings of a violin. Soft and low. Its moan reflected the cry in my heart — the need for peace and reassurance, a reminder of God’s abiding presence.
Autumn reds have transformed into deepest burgundy velvet; lemon yellows now reflect burnished gold. Stark branches stretch towards the heavens and yield their transition into winter to the hands of their Creator, the Lord our God.
I picked up my steps as I rounded the curve along our county road. A strong north wind watered my eyes and blushed my cheeks. But my thoughts turned towards Jesus and His unfailing love and especially towards His mercy, new every morning …
Lord, I’m parched … drained dry. But I know You to be my Living Water that will quench my thirst in this wasteland of hard circumstances. Only You can satisfy the longing soul.
Only You can fulfill and restore and redeem.
My body felt paralyzed with fatigue as fibromyalgia ran rampart. The clock tick-tocked the time away: 9:30 … 10:00 … 10:30 … and still I sat zoned out on the couch in my pajamas, searching for a brain that was missing.
The responsibilities of my day weighed heavy on me, but still the fatigue consuming me won the battle, holding me hostage.