May each breath be a soundtrack of praise that the Lord may inhabit all that I am, so that others may know all He is.

Slow down, He says. Don’t work so hard. Read more. Write more. Sing more. Rub your wife’s feet more. Breathe.

I drop my sword and cry for just a while
Deep inside this armor
The warrior is a child.

Clay does in fact get to choose: Whose Hands we allow to form us.

I am grateful that God sees all the bruises we try to hide, both inside and out, and can heal them with a touch.

Joyce Adams, Mom, Grandmother, Great-Grandmother.

Enough Said.

On dark Saturdays
Make me whole again, Dear Lord

Staring as raindrops pelt my window, tapping out their rhythmic chant that seizes my aching heart. The drops gather and race past, carrying with them remnants of dust and springtime pollen.  Similar drops well up in my eyes and trickle down my cheeks as my hands tremble. The day has been chaotic, a culmination of …

Continue reading Struggling to My Knees

The door to the ark will not be closed again. All are welcome to come in from the rain

Christmas decorations celebrating the coming of Jesus, displayed before Thanksgiving? What greater thing is there to be grateful for?
I am thankful for the Christ in Christmas