Spray. Wipe. Dry. Repeat . . .
Maybe that’s why so many of us as parents and grandparents have a hard time throwing precious treasures away . . .
No one likes to wait. Especially when important decisions are on the line . . .
Isn’t this story just like our lives? Faced with an impossibility, we rail against God . . .
Has God appeared to “shut you out” or “shut you in” by difficult circumstances or hurtful realities? Do you feel adrift in pain or isolation as if abandoned by God? Look again at your story through the lens of grace . . .
They’re baaack! The grinning elves with their cheery red buckets. Every December they seem to multiply . . .
When he reached for his special piece, I was shocked by his hands. When had he become an old man?
How do you navigate the season with a heavy heart? One glance around lets me know I’m not alone. . .
As for me, I’ve lost one who knew everything about me, yet still loved me. Someone who entered in and out seamlessly . . .
The seasonal change always catches me off-guard, as emotions tug at my shirtsleeve like a teething child whining for attention . . .
He never met a stranger, yielded the floor only when he asked a question, lived intensely and died unwillingly . . .
In this day of Pinterest-perfect creations and computer-generated images, it’s refreshing to see that a simple homemade craft can be effective in teaching truth. . .
Are you in a season of weeping? Are the days heavy and the nights endless—joys few, yet sorrows abundant . . .
We were unlikely friends—two women decades apart with drastically different lives. I guess you could say our dogs drew us together . . .
I end up standing at my kitchen sink muttering (dare I say it?), “I hate Christmas!”
We are living our dash, but most of us dash through our days without realizing we are living . . .
If only David and Lacy’s family members could realize the honor bestowed on their loved ones by the words spoken that day . . .
Will we be devoted to the person of Jesus or to the purpose of our plan?
There is no Sabbath pause today. Sunday is as busy as the next day, and the next after that . . .
This small book holds the history of a family—intertwined lives that are at the same time beautiful and messy . . .
Usually we don’t say it once, but many times in the course of a prayer. We are just praying, just praying and just praying about everything . . .
Four little words. That’s all it took to change the meaning in my mind and heart, forever . . .
Awakening to a deeper dimension;
Hushed and small, swallowed up by Greatness . . .
I carefully lifted the heavy pots off the porch and stuffed them in the trash . . .