parenting

we don’t go back, unless we have to to places where wounds flesh out we don’t go there. we stay confined within the walls of what is pleasant, or at least bearable. we just do. yesterday, i was forced to go back to the doctor’s office where I fleshed out years of infertility and a miscarriage they have kept the same people around, working the front desk and running the office so it feels as though you have never left. at all. i was two hours early, so I sat in the waiting room and rummaged through my purse...

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preparing for the ONE

i’m not sure why my my mind has wandered back to the many hours I spent in my bathroom as a teenager getting ready for a date. some might say obsessively so… i would wash my hair with several kinds of shampoos so it would smell extra good and layer on lotion and perfume and hairspray the preparation of each date marked that it was going to be something worth rememboring. it was a long time ago, but I remember, even now, the preparation… just yesterday, it dawned on me that this blip on the map the one we call “life” is about the preparation… preparing ourselves to meet the One. differently, but still… i must keep in mind that it takes a lot of time to get ready to see the King i want HIm to see a large piece of himself when he looks at me but in order to get to that end, i must spend. time. with. HIM. that’s how I prepare. i must adorn myself with the things that He deems to be beautiful i must take the preparation seriously. layer myself with mercy and grace and loving-kindness. buffer my mind and body so that it yields to my will. to discipline i must tackle hard challenges so i can show the strength that can only be found through persevering. i must cloak myself...

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my answer has always been “yes.”

my answer has always been “yes.” yes to God having His way.. yes to you to doing all I could to place you in the best care, no matter what it cost. yes to God’s very best.   It is hard for me to say in human words the pull you have on my heart before you are even born the welling up of my entire life the belief that I have in you the “yes” I feel about everything you will do.   There will never be anything to separate us, really. Our lives will be threaded with...

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lights

You are I, we are meant to be lights in a dark world. Our lives are meant to be a story of hope. One that others can bookmark and use for the sake of encouragement. But, if we are battered by fear, we will be crippled and unresponsive to some of the great needs that are in front of us. With every fear, with each new dark report, there is an opportunity to trust. God says we are the lights in this world. Cities on a hill. The salt of the earth. We are the ones who celebrate because...

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the night before

It was October 27th, 2008. Everything in my life had come to a halt. I had feared my father’s death for as long as I could remember. Sitting in my father’s study, just a room away, I knew he was breaths away from his heavenly home. My father lay still in a hospital bed in the middle of the living room. All the furniture had been rearranged to accommodate the bed, and still… the bed was too short. His 6-foot 3-inch frame so obviously cramped for more room. And though we all noticed, no one said a word about it…we hesitated to ask for something bigger or more because honestly, we could not. Pain ran through our veins and seeped into any available crevice, only to reroute and find no room to escape. Days and days of heaviness…the kind that you feel in your bones, the kind of pain that cripples you at the core…pain that compels you to move closer to the ground so you can lie on the floor and weep uncontrollably. It was THAT kind of pain. Either you know it, or you don’t. Only 25 days before, my father had received the diagnosis. Cancer. Stage 4. Growing and changing everything inside of him, starving his organs of life. Until October 2nd, we’d known nothing of it. Now, 25 days later, my father lay there, weaker...

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the middle field

I had heard it all my life.  That Satan (the enemy) was against God, and surely, he didn’t care for me much either.  Because God had taught me, from an early age, that He was all I had.  Everything that was beautiful, or special, or granted to me was fueled by the merciful, loving heart of God.  I knew that without Him there would be no victory, no reason to hold out for a celebration.  I would never have fullness of joy without Him.  I have always truly believed it. I have watched the enemy roam around in the...

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