Author: Nan Jones

A Dwelling Place Discovered Through a Swoosh of Feathers

A swoosh of black and gray feathers darted from the apple tree to the birdhouse nailed to my grape arbor. The chickadee twitched with excitement as she crawled through the circular opening and back out again, exploring her new dwelling place.

From the perch she flew to another branch, hopped across two or three others and swooped back to the birdhouse, again twitching with hyperactivity.

And … repeat.

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It is Well With My Soul Whispers Along the River’s Edge

Out of the blue, my spirit began to sing — not out loud, but like the still, small voice of the Lord, When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll. Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, “It is well … it is well with my soul.”

I zeroed in on “peace like a river ATTENDETH my way.”

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A Prayer for Supernatural Downpours When There’s Only a Cloud

Lord, You are Wonderful, Counselor, Almighty God, Everlasting Father, and my Prince of Peace. You are who You say You are. You do what You say You will do. I’m believing You for supernatural downpours, but I can’t even see a cloud on the horizon.

It’s so hard — this walking by faith and not by sight. There are days I can believe You for anything without reservation, but then … then there are days that hope wiggles out of the broken crevices in my heart and tears drip into a soggy mess.

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Cold Air Swirled, a Crystalline Glory Revealed

The ice storm roared into our mountain community with blinding sleet and freezing rain. Cold air chilling the bone swirled in the mighty wind.

Friday morning we awoke to a crystalline world — everything coated in ice. Branches bowed beneath the weight, icicles hung in the rain’s attempt to defeat the demanding cold.

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