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From California to Washington, D.C. From mother to grandmother rejoicing. From silent worshipper to singing sister.  From friendless, lonely to friends, bonded sisters, content.  From wife and partner to full-time caregiver.  From full-time caregiver to rejoicing wife of a healed husband.  From saying I am a child of God to declaring myself as DAUGHTER OF THE KING! From fighting fear to standing firm.  From deadly diagnosis to healing and life.  From one moment to eternity. 

Covered in Your Love

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  Drenched. Dripping. Cool. Absorbed straight into my soul. Hands cupped.  Catching. Overflowing. Refreshed.  Complete joy.  Creation pales.  Wonders of the world ⸺ pale. People. Glisten with Holy Love.  Drip with Your favor.  Beam with Your joy.  God's reflection in the mirror.  Eyes open wide. Why Me? Living water pours out again. Answers my questions. Cancels my fears. Shields my eyes.  Covered in Your Love.  Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

The Grace-filled Pain of the Remedy

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The cure for what ails us is a gift.  Vaccines for protection bring painful arms and side effects.  The side effect of the remedy is a better chance for a healthy future.   The cure for our sin brings painful looks in the mirror of our soul and repentance.  The side effect of repentance is grace.  The cure for our eternal separation from God brings the painful sacrifice of the one who loves us most.  The side effect of the ultimate sacrifice is salvation and an eternity with the one who loves us most.  The Remedy, the only Remedy is Jesus.  Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

A Dream Multiplied is a Talent Well Used

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There is value in keeping little scraps of paper and old tattered journals. I only wished I had realized how valuable before too much life rushed by. I think back to my childhood journals and tattered paper scraps. I remember the pencil-shaped indentation and callouses on the second finger of my writing hand. My skin was discolored from the pencil dust and flaking yellow paint from my favorite classic Number 2 pencils. I would wear the pencils down to nubs, writing sometimes for hours at a time. I can recall the feeling of the scribbled words on the paper and in my mind's eye, I can see flashes of stories created with looping text and poetic frame. For as long as I can remember, I loved to write. My mother shared a similar love. We would talk about our unwritten novels and imagined bestsellers. We created Pen Names we might use if only our dream could be realized. My mother's names were always the most creative. If I were a fiction writer, I might use her favorite someday. It s...

Diagnosis or Definition

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Photo by:  Felicia Buitenwerf on Unsplash I have a friend who was diagnosed with breast cancer. She has graciously embraced this journey as a new assignment not from God but for God's glory. Watching her walk through diagnosis, surgery, recovery, chemo, and near the finish line to a cancer-free declaration has been amazing and inspiring.   I am facing a new assignment of my own. One that appears to be a new health challenge and one that may be without end or cure. I know that something is wrong, but there is more testing and more verifying before it is named. I confess I am having trouble in the wait. The lines are blurred, my assignment sheet appears ink streaked. I find myself shaken at times, not knowing how to simply be still.  I have always been the caregiver for someone else ⸺children (belly-born, foster, and forever family), ill parent, and now my husband who has suffered from a constant barrage of systematic health challenges that often necessitate ful...

Because of You

When the world crumbles under my feet; When my perceived worth from my eyes doeth fade; I lift my hands—cupped—empty—staid.  You don't see the void. You see my need.   When my knees buckle and I have no strength to stand; When my soul is exhausted and emotions feel dry;  I lift my eyes —fixed—filled—nigh. You don't back away. You enfold and enliven.   When I grieve all that has been lost;  When I can't identify the reason; I bow my head—defeated—resurrected—growing season. You don't let death define me. You give me life.   When my heart explodes with joy; When I can't contain the smile;  I dance unabandoned—twirling—laughing—like a child. You don't look away. You create the rhythm.  When I wake to another day;  When I can't believe the sun is shining;  I soak it in—warm—love—defining. You don't wane. You infuse with Your light.  When I see this life as a gift; When I can't repay all that is due; I proclaim—It's—All—because...

Dying to Life

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    I have never really thought about what it might mean to “stop and smell the roses.”   Does it truly take an effort to notice the world around me—to live?   I have always struggled with the dichotomy of my personality, everything feels deep, yet I really perceive myself as shallow.   A desire to please is always right on the edge of my sleeve, exposed and ready to be brushed off like clinging fuzz or a hanging string from a seam.   Why do I try so hard to go unnoticed and to miss the noticeable?   I have the capacity to love. I have moments of wisdom—God-given, always.   Living through one full year of a pandemic and staying in lockdown to keep my immune-compromised loved ones safe—myself safe—transforms the act of living to one that is always focused on impending death. As we watch our loved ones suffer or die from a virus that the world is struggling to understand, there are cocoons built around my “noticers.”  Will my inability to...