Christian faith resources to help balance our emotional health with God’s truth.
Dear Troubles & Trials, I wish I could say we’re through. But life promises time with you. Your vehicle has carried me far too often. But now? A driver switch is due. Troubles and trials, you arise, but do you remember years ago when I sat in your vehicle’s seat? You clicked the buckle tight, slammed…
There’s an area in our back yard that concerns me. Perhaps there’s an area that will concern you, too. My family’s house is built on the “high” end of the neighborhood. Rain should soak in or drain right off, shouldn’t it? That’s not always the case. Things aren’t always as they appear. Rain falls. Water builds. Streams…
The Moment Things Turn Out Better Than You Can Imagine by Lisa Murray Lisa Murray’s words stood before me, offering a glimpse into emotional stability, strength, a “how to” in order to “get through”. She put feet to a part of my life that needed it. And I wanted to know more. Her blog offered…
Arrows flamed across the prairie in record numbers as 2015 galloped toward its end. But there came a day when I set it all down. ~ Dad ~ My dad grew sick. His body gave way on October 31, but not his spirit. Jesus now hosts him safely in Heaven. Thank God. I still miss him immensely….
How does your thanksgiving flow? Mine? It flows. Then it stops, as though someone has turned off the faucet. Nothing. Nada. In fact, I forget. Generous heaps of thanks come to a calm. Dare I say that as a Christian? Dare I admit sometimes I become so self-centered that I forego giving thanks, even forgetting? Well, I…
“Prepare me, Lord.” The ending days of Dad’s life were coming. The rockslide was imminent, a slippery slope for certain. I didn’t want Dad to go. I needed God. Maybe you have felt that stomach-churning realization as well? The prayer was whispered in August. Just last week, I realized God answered that prayer. Maybe he has answered…
Never did I consider it. The writing lessons were supposed to be an aid for ministry, not for writing obituaries. Tears welled. Oh God, I don’t want these skills for this. They’re not supposed to be for writing an obituary. Lord, help me…. I took a deep breath, an effort to calm a tightened and…
She exploded. The harsh words hammered at me. The upset mama’s child was hurt. Mine, she insisted, was the cause. Fiery darts were flying. My mama bear itched to roar. I faced a choice. How was I going to react to the uncomfortable discourse? Turn her off, run away? Suffer in silence or rupture in anger? Bellow…
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