Our trips not only colored my childhood with magic and memories, but also made me secure in my father’s love. I may not having loved camping—but I was better for it.
My knees hit the floor with a thud, and my face planted in my hands as tears filled my palms. Kneeling next to our dirty laundry, I cried out, “God, why am I always the afterthought?
While summer has its challenges, it also is ripe with possibility, with potential sacred moments and evolving memories. Let’s not miss it…
As a mother who was given her options, I know how pain can wreck a person. Life feels incredibly unfair and impossible sometimes.
While we could see the never-ending struggle as a burden, I want to see it as a gift. A beautiful package that reveals my need for a Savior and keeps me leaning into Him.
I can still feel the pull, the desire to slip back inside my melancholy and stay there. But then I remember the pennies. I feel their presence…
Are we searching and seeking, crying out to God like helpless children, when all along the answers could be found in just a few moments with Him?
It was as if I’d been stripped naked, and there she was, holding a spotlight and pointing out all the things I hated most about myself. “You think you’re better!”
Our humanity doesn’t surprise God. And robotic prayers only hold Him at a distance. So why not talk with Him as we are?
No one has ever asked me directly. But over the last eight years since my son died, I have often contemplated whether I—if given the opportunity—would erase the pain.
Grace doesn’t always come in pretty packages. Sometimes, it comes as a gift of brokenness.