Indholdsfortegnelse for January/February 2023 i Mornings with Jesus

IT MIGHT BE HARD TO believe but it’s true—we’re turning the page on another year! No matter what you went through last year, perhaps a good way to start 2023 is by embracing the word rejoice. When we think of rejoicing, we might think of being in a state of constant happiness and celebrating every detail of life with exuberance. But what about times when we are sad, angry, confused, or tired? In Philippians 4:4 (NIV), the apostle Paul declares that we “Rejoice in the Lord, always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” The heartwarming devotions in this first issue of Mornings with Jesus 2023 will remind you that there is much to rejoice in. That your body and soul can be healed and restored. That all broken things can…

MY GRANDCHILDREN LIVE SEVERAL STATES away, but I think of them every day. Other than FaceTime calls, I can’t physically see them. I can look at the photos hanging on the wall. I smile at their favorite books that fill my shelves and often read to them over the phone. I also hum songs we sang together. Until the next visit, I’ll miss the tangible ability to hug them, to be with them in person. Yet I love them. I know they are enjoying life, laughing, and playing. Their very existence fills me with joy. I sometimes complain to Jesus that it’s challenging to follow Him when I can’t see Him or hear His audible voice. I can’t touch Him as the first disciples could. I’ve learned about Him through…

I STEPPED INTO THE KITCHEN, focused on preparing dinner. I’d neglected grocery shopping for too long, and the pantry was close to empty. Opening the refrigerator, I gazed at a random assortment of condiments, a few eggs, and butter. They seemed to stare back blankly, as if daring me to come up with a recipe. What could I make with what little I had? As I cooked an omelet, my mind wandered to the way Jesus had chosen me. Just as my empty refrigerator lacked sustenance, I had little, if anything, to offer Him. But He chose me, not for who I was, but for who He is. His love transformed my nothing into His something, just like the water Jesus turned to wine—the best wine. This was His first…

“THIS DIAMOND IS FROM MY grandmother’s wedding ring,” I handed the heirloom to the jeweler. “My aunt had it reset in this contemporary design, but I’d like a vintage setting reflective of the year my grandparents were married, 1929.” The jeweler peered through a loupe to inspect the stone. “This diamond is over one hundred years old,” she said. “Gemcutters stopped cutting like this in 1918.” She explained the bottom was flat instead of pointed like modern stones, so it didn’t sparkle as brilliantly as it could if it were faceted rather than flat. Oh no! Was the diamond worthless? The jeweler must have sensed my concern. She assured me the stone was unique, complimenting its color and clarity, even as she spotted inclusions beneath the surface that I couldn’t…

I HAD NO IDEA MY carry-on bag would cause such a ruckus. Maybe ruckus is a strong word for the exchange with the TSA employee I’d seen so often at our small regional airport. She usually was a pleasant woman with a bright smile. That day, she wasn’t smiling. She politely but firmly directed me, “Ma’am, I need to go through your bag.” As a frequent traveler, I knew what was and wasn’t allowed in my carry-on suitcase. None of my liquids were oversized. No lithium batteries or explosives, although the last time I’d flown, my bottle of cream rinse did a number on the inside of the plastic bag in which I’d nestled it. Nothing about my curling iron looked at all dangerous. But the TSA agent found something…

MAYBE YOU’VE SEEN THIS FAVORITE meme of mine: The scene is an elementary school gym, where classmates are lined up on risers to perform a music program. The students are dressed in their best and are generally paying attention. But the group as a whole is not where my attention lands. Up front, one little girl cannot stop the music from taking hold of her. Bouncing to the beat, hands clapping, body swaying, utterly comfortable and uninhibited—she’s living her best life. Because she isn’t seeking attention, her innocence is disarming. Unmanufactured, pure joy moves her. She can’t keep it to herself, and I can’t hold back a smile. That little girl strikes me as the image of what the Lord desires for us all. First, He appears to us. Then,…

I KNOW TATTOOS ARE POPULAR with many people, but I’ve never been a fan. I figured anyone who spent their hard-earned money permanently marking themselves must be crazy and shortsighted. What a painful, expensive waste. I hoped neither of my kids ever got one. That hope was inked out when our college-age son, Ron, spent his Christmas money on his first tattoo. Ron was an art student. I had to admit his robot executive design—with a pen in its pocket and a striped necktie—was charming. But for $100? Sheesh. Later, I recalled that God mentioned tattoos in the Bible. I found the reference tucked into a prophecy in Isaiah. The tattoo on His palm was God’s reminder that He loved His children more than the best mother cherished her baby.…

AT MY CHURCH’S WOMEN’S RETREAT last fall, we went on a prayer walk around the pine tree-lined grounds of the retreat center and were instructed to find a rock. Back in the meeting room, we created a rock of remembrance using markers and paint. We were told to write a word or phrase on the rock that was symbolic of what the Lord had spoken to us over the course of the weekend. I turned over a smooth, oblong rock that fit nicely in the palm of my hand. As I thought about what I had learned over the weekend, I picked up a black Sharpie and wrote the word purpose in bubble letters. In this season of life, my kids are now teens and young adults. My career in…

SOMETIMES I STRUGGLE WITH THE gap between my expectations and my reality. I don’t know exactly what I imagined my forties would look like, but I often find myself thinking, I sure didn’t think they’d look like this! If I’m not careful, I can spiral into a perpetual state of discontentment. My attitude began to change, however, when I came across the words of David in Psalm 16. For the first time, I thought about our house that often feels too small for our four growing children and thought, The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places. I considered my career that has taken twists and turns I tried desperately to avoid and repeated the poetic prayer in my heart: The boundary lines have fallen for me in…

ORDINARILY, I’M SOCIABLE AND ACTIVE in a number of organizations and commitments. But following the death of our beloved kitty, Tom Thumb, I hadn’t felt like socializing. We’d had little Tommy less than a year. He loved to play fetch, then curl up on my lap like a baby. Compassionate, understanding friends are allowing me the space I need in which to grieve. It’s strange, going through a season of life different from that of everyone around me. These transitions, particularly when unexpected, affect each of us differently, including our connections and interactions with others. One gentleman in my church sent a comforting note saying he was sorry for my loss, expressing, from his own experience, the dear place pets hold in the hearts of their owners. My friends extend…

I FELL INTO BED EXHAUSTED after an especially long day. My mind focused on an approaching deadline for a project I’d only halffinished. I won’t think about that tonight. I remembered a couple of medical-related decisions that I’d been dreading. Can’t put that off much longer … My mind switched to a difficult conversation I needed to initiate the next day. Suddenly, I sensed a still, small voice saying, “Just rest in Me.” It took a moment for the message to sink in, but then I smiled and settled down, concentrating on the One who is truly in charge of my life as I drifted to sleep. Every day we’re bombarded by commercials, articles, and blog posts promoting something to help us relax and rest: supplements, prescription medicines, diffusers, bath…

I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN SELF-CONSCIOUS about my looks. As a child, I was embarrassed because I had an overbite and a notably sized gap between my two front teeth. After getting braces in my early twenties, my teeth became perfect, but I wasn’t fully confident. I couldn’t completely shake the emotional toll the perceived flaw had on how I had seen myself for the past two decades. Paul opened up about his imperfection to the Corinthians. Despite Paul begging for that “thorn in his flesh” to be removed, it wasn’t. Paul’s disability, whatever it was, never healed. Scripture indicates it stayed to keep him from thinking too highly about his own abilities and, instead, to keep him grounded in the fact that his power was tied to Jesus. Jesus was…

MY DAUGHTER RANDI’S ARTISTIC EYE analyzes the empty spaces of the 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzle we’ve nearly completed. She spots the missing piece in a pile that looks all the same to me. Across the table, my husband, Russ, has no method, only madness. He crams similar shapes into holes and insists they fit, which elicits a sharp “Dad!” from Randi. What a pleasant Sunday afternoon, except something is missing. Due to my husband’s ongoing health concerns, we haven’t been able to attend church for several months. Instead, we watch services online in our living room. I’m grateful technology allows us to worship at home, but my soul feels like something is missing. I brushed my fingers over our unfinished project. An unassembled puzzle is a useless pile of pieces, but…

“IF YOU STEP ON IT, we can slip into church during the first hymn,” I told my husband, Jeff. He rolled his eyes and didn’t speed up. “Why are we always late?” I moaned. Jeff wisely didn’t respond. Who was I kidding? I was the one who made us late. I’ve heard people arrive late because they like to make an entrance. Not me! I strive NOT to be noticed. But I have an idea why I'm often running behind. It’s because I try to do one more thing before I leave the house—empty the dishwasher, put a load of clothes in the washer, or answer an email. Then the toilet overflows or the cat has a hairball and I’m doomed. Luckily for me, Jesus is never late. When I…

ONCE, WHEN VALENTINE’S DAY FELL on a Sunday, the ladies in our women’s ministry prepared beautiful Victorian valentines inscribed with Psalm 37:4 as a way to bless members of our congregation who’d most likely not receive a valentine from anyone else. Recipients of these expressions of the love of Jesus included bachelors, unmarried women, widows, and widowers. Everyone who received an unexpected valentine was truly grateful. After hand-delivering the valentines, I had one left over and slipped it into my purse. Midway through the service, I noticed someone we’d missed. An elderly gentleman sat alone. I didn’t know his name, but I felt Jesus prompting me to give him the last valentine. I rose from my seat, handed it to him, and wished him a happy Valentine’s Day. He accepted…

TWO OF MY CLOSEST FRIENDS write incredible romance novels. When the main character finds herself in a terrible situation, along comes the hero. Somehow, against dismal odds, they solve the problem and fall in love in the process. These stories are entertaining, and the characters are memorable. But aside from these colleagues’ works, I rarely read books in that genre. Why? Because I’m already living a romance. Nothing beats reality. My first years together with my husband, David, were like a winding road with a washboard surface. We struggled to understand the mystery of wedded bliss, clunking along until we found the answer in Luke 6:31 (niv): Do to others as you would have them do to you. If I want romantic moments, I need to offer them. If I…

IF JESUS WERE A SUPERHERO—Oh, wait. He is!—His nickname might be Opposite Man. He was always upending traditional patterns and erasing preconceived notions. He loved to engage those who considered themselves religious and point out how their diligent, humanly devised plans were in direct opposition to the teachings of God. He confronted a Pharisee who boasted about tithing down to a tenth of his last mint leaf (Matthew 23:23). Jesus responded, in essence, “You call that tithing? Have you called your mother lately?” Jesus called the dead “not dead.” Lazarus, for instance (John 11:1-44). Jesus said life after death was true living (John 11:25). He made His point with dust motes rather than daggers. Who does that? Opposite Man. When one of His hotheaded companions sliced off a soldier’s ear…

I WATCHED THE PRICE OF my latest novel plummet at a major online bookstore. A $25 hardcover book that had taken years of work and a major investment from my publisher was priced at less than $4 only months after its release. I felt the stabbing sensation of society telling me I had no value. Ego deflated, I resigned myself to knowing what I had to offer had been shoved to the back of the store’s sale rack like outdated merchandise. Last season’s styles or damaged goods. All my effort and hard work was bargain basement, at best. Yet in His mercy that same week, a writer messaged me to say that one of the scenes on the page made her cry grateful tears. Someone else confided the impact of…

I WATCHED MY HUSBAND, KEVIN, crawl around the dining room picking up pieces of the jigsaw puzzle we’d been working on. No doubt they’d landed on the floor because of one, or all, of our four cats. I dropped to my knees to join him. We’d worked the puzzle on a card table and were nearly finished. Now, patches of brown tabletop stared up at us through a dozen huge holes. I suggested we catproof our project. We moved the card table and puzzle to the back bedroom, and then we closed the door. Like my fur babies did with our puzzle, I sometimes undo the work Jesus has accomplished in my life. After years of disciplining my tongue to speak gracious words, I catch myself gossiping. Jesus guides me…

I LEFT THE RESTAURANT THINKING over my colleague’s words, amazed how her experience struck a chord with me. Over lunch, we’d talked about spiritual warfare, which prompted a flow of new insights—along with relief and hope. I was coming off a period of intense warfare and was still recovering from some emotional wounds. Satan’s lies had battered me, and I was leaning on people close to me and lots of scripture to stand on truth and prevail. My colleague had shared about her challenges in deep warfare and then commented that, through it all, she learned that intense attacks from the enemy often preceded Jesus’s launch of something new in her. With her revelation, I realized that He had begun something new in me too. Thank You, Jesus. Gratitude overwhelmed…

Copyright © 2023 by Guideposts. All rights reserved. This publication, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher. Every attempt has been made to credit the sources of copyrighted material used in this book. If any such acknowledgment has been inadvertently omitted or miscredited, receipt of such information would be appreciated. Scripture quotations marked (CEV) are taken from Holy Bible: Contemporary English Version. Copyright © 1995 American Bible Society. Scripture quotations marked (ESV) are taken from the Holy Bible, English Standard Version. Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a division of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Scripture quotations marked (MSG)…

JANUARY January brings the snow, makes our feet and fingers glow. MY HUSBAND AND I WERE married two days after Christmas and spent our honeymoon in New York City. We couldn’t wait to celebrate New Year’s Eve in the Big Apple. For years, we’d watched on television as the iconic Times Square Ball dropped. Now we would experience the thrill and excitement for ourselves, ringing in the New Year. After an evening show on Broadway, we walked out of the theater and into the below-zero temperatures. Immediately, we were swept up into the throng of revelers. Party hats glittered under streetlights. Novelty sunglasses blinked on and off. Confetti hovered in the air like multicolored fog. It was a magical scene—for about five minutes. We began thinking of our warm, quiet…

I GAINED A LOT OF weight when I first got married. A lot. From a svelte 130 pounds, I ballooned to a top weight of 207. I was heavier than I’d ever been in my life and was completely miserable. After my eldest son, Pierce, was born, I decided I was willing to do anything to lose those extra pounds. I started walking on my treadmill and joined WeightWatchers. As a work-at-home new mom, I didn’t have time to go to meetings, so I did the online version. The handy app tracked daily points and also provided nutritional value for the foods I considered eating. With a swipe of my phone screen, I could quickly assess the benefit of having, say, an English muffin at 2 points versus a large…

BEING IMPULSIVE GETS ME INTO trouble sometimes. More often than not, I act first and think later. When I hit obstacles that interfere with my plans, I tend to immediately do what seems best to remove or go around them. I’m sure life would be much smoother if I remembered to slow down, take a deep breath, think things through, and pray before taking action. Peter was impulsive too. When the leading priests and the captains of the Temple guard brought their mobs to arrest Jesus, Peter grabbed a sword and cut off the right ear of the high priest’s servant. Defending Jesus seemed the logical thing to do, right? Jesus thought otherwise. He healed the servant’s ear and told Peter to put his sword away (Matthew 26:52). Then He…

THE LONGER I LIVE, THE more I appreciate the adage “less is more.” Since my husband and I plan to retire soon and move to a different state, I’m evaluating our possessions room by room and filling donation boxes. The less crowded our house is, the more favorable an impression it will give potential buyers and the easier our move will be. I recently purged my clothes closet, and getting dressed is now quicker and more enjoyable. I’m also learning (finally) the benefits of applying this principle to my calendar. If I try to cram too many commitments into one day, I may waste time chasing trivial pursuits while failing to accomplish what is truly important. I could miss an opportunity that God has placed in front of me or…

I LIVE IN NORTHERN CALIFORNIA, near Mt. Shasta, a destination location. People come from near and far to visit or live here. Consequently, a number of full-time nomadic hikers, aka “travelers,” migrate in and out of the area. According to the season, some display cardboard signs with various requests for food, gas, money, or rides. But the sign that makes me laugh every time I remember it had three simple words of exasperation: “Anywhere but Here.” The raw honesty of that admission still cracks me up. It’s comical to me because, according to local tourism marketing, Mt. Shasta is “Where Heaven Meets Earth.” Who’d want to leave that place? I get it, though. Sometimes things don’t pan out the way we’d hoped. Or we hit a bump in the road.…

I TAUGHT SIXTH GRADE social studies for one year. My students participated in the schoolwide tradition of writing an essay based on a historical figure of their choosing. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was a favorite choice. A dynamic leader and pastor with a passion for people, he championed an end to racial inequality. His inspirational voice resonated with my students. They were drawn in by how Dr. King lived out his beliefs. They admired how he had risked everything to bring light to the darkness. He reminded Americans that people should be judged on the content of their character and not the color of their skin. His dream was for the world to be a place where all were treated equally and where love, hope, and freedom endured. Like…

MY HUSBAND, DAVID, BROUGHT HOME a bouquet of flowers to brighten my mood, “just because.” The rainbow assortment included many types of blooms, which I arranged in a vase and placed on the dining table. Their bright colors and fresh scent lifted my spirits during what was shaping up to be a dreary winter. After a few days, some blossoms dropped their petals, so I removed those stems. One morning, I entered the dimly lit room to find all but one of the flowers wilted and dead. I was tempted to discard the last bud along with the others. The water was murky, and the container was far too large for a single flower. It would be easier to toss them all, but I noticed the one lone carnation still…

WHEN MY BUSINESS FAILED A few years ago, I was forced to file for bankruptcy. The agony of losing my company was amplified by the harm to my formerly great credit rating, the personal stigma, and all the other lasting financial aftereffects. Thankfully, I was able to keep my home, my car, and all my household belongings. I also felt an admitted relief at not having the dark cloud of the giant debt I could never repay hanging over me, as well as the menacing investors looming around me. All told, the bankruptcy, however messy, was full of grace. A lot like my life. The Bible tells me that apart from Jesus, I’m spiritually bankrupt. Unable to pay the enormous debt of my inherent sin, I’d be doomed to hell.…

A BOOK I READ SEVERAL years ago addressed the issue of busyness. It suggested that if we feel overworked from trying to balance too many roles, we should look at our motives for assuming them. For instance, are we participating in these activities because we have an inherent need to prove our worth? Do we agree to take part in every opportunity because we’re afraid of missing out? Are we saying yes to each person who asks us to do a task because we’re people pleasers? I felt as though the author wrote the book specifically for me. Deeply convicted, I asked Jesus to forgive me for making decisions based on a desire to gain people’s approval or establish my reputation. I asked Him to help me identify my motives…

IT WAS GETTING DOWNRIGHT EMBARRASSING. When the exterminator, the heating repairman, and the UPS driver all asked why we still had our Christmas decorations up, it was probably time to take them down. My husband, Jeff, had removed all the outside decorations, but inside of our house, Christmas cheer reigned. The calendar showed January 28, which is not the latest I’ve left my Christmas decorations on display. One year, we were well into February when I justified, “Valentines are red…” It all started when my son, Scott, was three. His birthday is January 6, and he asked if we could leave the Christmas decorations up until his birthday. Of course! January 6 marks the Epiphany, the Twelfth Day of Christmas. So every year since, even though Scott is no longer…

WHENEVER MY KITTEN, PRINCESS, SEES me head down the hall to the bedroom, she races past me and jumps onto my desk. Standing on her hind legs, she plants her front paws on the windowsill above the desk. Princess doesn’t utter a sound. She simply looks over her shoulder and gazes at me with sparkling amber eyes. I can almost read her thoughts. “Mom! I want to sit in this window and bird-watch, but I’m not strong enough to lift it open. You, oh powerful one, have the strength to help me.” On my way to the window, I wonder, How would my life be different—no, better—if I had that same attitude toward Jesus? I tend to wait until I’ve exhausted all my human resources before I turn to and…

I LEANED AGAINST THE BALCONY railing, staring down into the sunlit atrium of the cruise ship. We had docked in Tortola, and passengers wearing sun hats scurried in all directions to disembark. My thoughts weren’t on the tiny Caribbean island, though; they were two thousand miles away with my dad in Alabama. My new friend Derek touched my arm. We’d met a few days earlier and discovered we both served as ministers in churches. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “This is going to sound strange, but I saw you while I was eating breakfast in that restaurant.” He pointed toward some open-air seating. “Jesus nudged me in my spirit to come talk to you.” “Thank you for following His lead,” I said, my voice quivering as I…

THIS MORNING I CAUGHT A snowflake on my tongue. My husband and I walked around the block, savoring the fluffy snowfall. Sounds became muted. Grubby streets shimmered with a coating of brightness. It stirred memories of being a child and waking up the day of a blizzard. A snow day—school was closed. Instead of the expected routine, we had a surprising day of freedom and fun. Snow angels, sledding, and cocoa! When I ponder what Jesus means in His call to become like a child, that sense of excitement and joy comes to mind. Children have the capacity to embrace a gift and revel in it. Jesus offers a surprise far more exhilarating than a snow day. Instead of trudging along trying to draw close to God by my own…

AS I LAY IN BED, I listened to the skittering overhead and shuddered. Ew. My husband was out of town, and the idea of an animal in the attic was unsettling. Common sense told me it couldn’t come through the ceiling into the bedroom. But when the sounds seemed to move down into one of the walls, I got up and crept near to listen. I tapped here and there on the wall to prompt movement, hoping the noise had been my imagination. After a few minutes, I crawled back into bed, yearning for quiet. I knew there was nothing to fear, but I didn’t want to hear creepy sounds in the dark. “Jesus,” I whispered into the stillness. This year I’ve developed a habit of speaking His name out…

I’M INTRIGUED BY OPPOSITES AND appreciate when opposing words are combined to make oxymorons: jumbo shrimp, deafening silence, clearly confused. When I recently heard someone say that the world’s gravity pulls us down, but Jesus’s gravity lifts us up, I was enthralled. The more I reflected on that statement, the truer it rang. Nothing drags me down more than focusing on worldly trappings. When I’m world-focused, I dwell on my problems, giving them permission to weigh me down. When I’m Jesus-focused, He turns everything upside down, causing my burdens to fall away and my perspective to flip right side up. Suddenly, I’m filled with a new lightness that helps me see beauty in the mess, potential in the hardships, and grace in the chaos. As He lifts me higher, I…

MY FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD SON, ADDISON, IS growing like a weed. At six-foot-one-inch tall, he’s also getting stronger. He likes to prove this by tackling me on the couch. Or by hugging me in a tight squeeze and dragging me through the kitchen. I’ve started using his strength to my advantage. Whenever anything requires a strong back and a firm grip, I call on Addison. Boxes of books? Bins full of files? Heavy air-conditioning units that need to be carried up the stairs to a friend’s apartment? He’s my guy. Addison does the heavy lifting for me now. In much the same way, Jesus does the heavy lifting where my spiritual weaknesses are concerned. His grace is all-encompassing. I want to be courageous, patient, and loving. I want to be kind, forgiving,…

THE ALL-TOO-FAMILIAR BROWN CARDBOARD BOX bearing the Amazon smile logo rested near my front door, greeting me with that grin. Hmm, I wonder what that is? I thought as I picked it up and carried it inside. When I opened it, I found a cookbook I had ordered. I had utterly forgotten about it. Sadly, I had a case of primenesia. According to the online Urban Dictionary, it’s defined as, “Amnesia caused from over-ordering from Amazon. Forgetfulness regarding what one ordered.” Apparently, many others are suffering from primenesia too. This occurrence of forgetfulness in our culture is not surprising. The human tendency to forget is emphasized throughout the Bible. Many stories are told about God’s people forgetting what He had done for them. The Israelites repeatedly failed to remember how…

MY DAUGHTER HAS HER OWN apartment now, and she often texts to ask questions. How often should I water my houseplant? Should I set the Crock-Pot on high or low? Her queries remind me of her preschool years, another season when she was full of questions. Why is the moon so bright? Where is heaven? One answer produced another question and so the cycle began. I’ve been caught in the asking cycle myself. Why is this happening, Jesus? When are You going to take care of this problem? Where are You? I fret and pray and doubt my faith as I force one trusting foot in front of the other. Can’t you see Jesus shaking His head? “O ye of little faith,” He must be saying to me. I’m like…

AS A MOM OF SEVEN adopted children, what surprises me the most is how often my love is pushed away. Recently one of our daughters turned eighteen and left our safe environment to return to the unhealthy one she’d been removed from as a child. While her decision hurt me, I understood it. All of us want to be loved and appreciated. Sometimes, our longing to be loved leads us to people who will hurt us, even to the detriment of those who genuinely care for us. This is true for me too. Sometimes, in the longing to feel the love of another person, I’ve shut out the person who loves me most, Jesus, and pushed Him away. To return to Jesus and embrace the love He offered, I needed…

I COMBED THROUGH THE STACK of mail on the kitchen counter. A squishy, flat package piqued my interest. It was addressed to me, but I couldn’t imagine what was inside. I ripped it open and roared with laughter. My wig! Five months earlier, in the throes of debating whether to keep coloring my hair or let it go natural, I had (what seemed to me) the brilliant idea to order a wig. I reasoned that if I disliked how my white locks looked growing out, I could still pretend to have red hair. But the custom color had to be special ordered. Now that the fake hair arrived, I’d come to terms with my natural look. I pulled it onto my head and gazed into the bathroom mirror. I laughed…

“WHAT DO YOU WISH YOU could do better?” a friend asked me recently. Without missing a beat, I quickly replied, “Sing.” I’ve long admired those who have voices that can croon any type of music—Christian, opera, R&B, pop, jazz, or country. I love to sing and have done so for as long as I can remember. I’ve been a member of church and school choirs and even directed a gospel group in college—but I don’t sing as well as I wish I did. Sometimes I can’t carry a tune at all, and I definitely can’t harmonize unless I’m standing next to a strong singer who will help me stay on key. In other words, no one has ever asked me to be a soloist. My voice is better suited for…

THE NORTH ALABAMA HALLELUJAH TRAIL weaves through sixteen counties in northern Alabama. Each church on the route is more than a hundred years old, sits on its original site, and still holds services today. I plan to visit all thirty-two—I’m halfway there. My favorite thus far has been Brilliant Methodist Church, mainly because I love the happy title of the town. The name “Brilliant” came from the glossy appearance of coal and a booming coal industry in the area in the late 1800s. Miners eventually built the house of worship with white-painted wood, stained-glass windows, and a bronze bell to ring before Sunday school. When I travel from church to church on the trail, I sense a connection with believers who lived before me. They loved Jesus, like I do.…

I LEAD A WRITERS’ WORKSHOP for new novelists. While it’s easy for me to teach students dialogue, description, and plotting, their fiction comes to life when I help them understand emotion, exploring their own feelings and applying them to their work. One common theme from my novels is abandonment. My books often include characters who attempt to earn love and worry that one wrong move will cause others to leave them. Looking closer at my writing, I discovered why this theme is often found within my novels. I grew up with an emotionally distant stepfather and my birth father wasn’t around, so I never experienced unconditional paternal love. My high school boyfriend abandoned me after I became pregnant. I began to believe I was unlovable. After I married John, I…

EVERY JANUARY, WE HOST A fun run at our home in New Hampshire. Thirty to forty people from my husband’s running club arrive at 8 a.m. on a Saturday, run five to ten miles, and then come back to our house for a hot breakfast with all the fixings. My husband, John, is fiercely independent and insists on doing all the cooking and setup himself, no matter how many times I offer to help. Despite his best intentions, there are always several things he overlooks. When I see them, I don’t ask anymore—I just jump in and help. Every year, after our guests leave, John tells me how he couldn’t have done it without me. During the pandemic, his need for help went to a whole new level. Having to…

ONE WINTER DAY, I WENT to help my friend Amy muck out alpaca stalls. She was helping her elderly neighbor, who owned an alpaca farm and had broken his leg. She advised me to wear warm clothes, gloves, boots that could get dirty, and glasses, because sometimes alpacas spit. When I arrived, Amy gave me a rake, a shovel, and a wheelbarrow and showed me how to clean the stalls. Primarily, my job consisted of clearing out the black, bean-shaped droppings. I had no idea alpacas pooped so much. Amy and I raked mounds of dung, scooped it into the wheelbarrow, and dumped it on a nearby pile while the alpacas followed us around like puppies. The smell was awful, but I actually had fun. Amy exemplified Jesus-like service as…

EVERY NOVEMBER, WITH HOPE in my heart, I buy a Christmas cactus loaded with blooms and alive with promise that it will survive the Christmas season. Every January, with defeat in my soul, I place the latest Christmas cactus, bloomless and drooping, on my porch, thinking the fresh air might revive it. That has never happened. One January, I spotted a small leftover Christmas cactus languishing in the floral department at my grocery store. The price tag read $13.99, but a store clerk said the floral manager would do markdowns the next day. Maybe if I could buy this cactus and nurture it all year, it would survive through the next Christmas season. An exciting prospect! I arose early the next day and dashed to the grocery store, skipping my…

I’VE BEEN PAYING ATTENTION TO the first thoughts of my day. What’s on my subconscious mind as I respond to the alarm or become aware that the sun is up? Most mornings, a song is running in the background of my thoughts. Music is one of the ways I best commune with Jesus. When I wake with a song already playing, it usually remains with me throughout the day. Sometimes, it’s a verse of scripture that has been “playing” while I slept. The Word is deeply embedded in me from years of treasuring it, cherishing it, reading, rereading, pondering, and studying. What if that storehouse were empty? What thoughts would consume me if worship songs and Scripture hadn’t collected within me? Even that is evidence of the grace of Jesus.…

MY NIECE CHERELLE WAS PREGNANT with twins, and she texted two sonograms to our immediate family. We were all so excited! Messages flew back and forth among us about possible names for the new additions to our boisterous clan. I looked at the first photo and quickly saw the features of Cherelle’s unborn son. But as I studied the second image, I had no such luck. Finally, after about a minute or so, the baby girl’s scrunched-up face snapped into focus for me. She looked just like her mom! It took me a little while, and I had to look hard to see my greatniece’s face in the image, but it was there all the time. Just as I had trouble seeing the baby in that sonogram, I often don’t…

I RUMMAGED THROUGH MY BOX of handmade greeting cards. A friend’s parent had died, and I wanted to send a note of sympathy. I still had plenty of birthday, get-well, and thank-you cards, but had used up all my condolence cards. Too many funerals had filled my calendar in the past year—a stark reminder that all of us have a limited time on this earth. That reality stares me in the face more frequently the older I get. I wanted to comfort my friend, and I wished I had more to offer than a card, hug, or casserole. Jesus invites me to view death in a new way. When I’m hurting, Jesus does provide more. Instead of sending a sympathy card or a bouquet of flowers, He renews my hope…

FOR MANY YEARS, I HAD a wall around my heart. I built it as a means of protecting myself. Keeping others at arm’s length was painful, but it was better than risking being hurt when I let someone see my true self, mistakes and all. This worked for me until one day, at Bible study, I dared to confess a dark, secret sin. Instead of looks of condemnation, compassion filled the women’s faces. One by one, they each confessed hidden sins. None of us were perfect. The understanding and grace those ladies extended to me allowed me to believe in Jesus’s forgiveness and grace. My burden lifted, and I felt the wall around my heart begin to crumble. My confession was news to my Bible study group but not to…

FEBRUARY Winter knows to hush, still, listen, so the soul can speak. A FEW OF MY JUNIOR high students were talking to me before class one day and caught a glimpse of my computer screen. “Whoa! Mrs. Ryan! How many tabs do you have open?” one student exclaimed with wide eyes. “Don’t you think that’s a little much?” “Don’t judge me,” I said with a playful laugh and was about to close my laptop when I saw what he was talking about. Sure enough, at the top of my internet browser, more than three dozen tabs were open at once. I thought about how stressed I’d felt lately. My calendar, filled to the brim with activities and tasks, came to mind, making me cringe. My heart felt heavy in my…

LEADING WEEKLY ZOOM BIBLE STUDIES has become part of my ministry. Midway through each, I begin asking Jesus to show me the topic of His choice for the next study. On one occasion, I felt impressed to write a curriculum about the names of God. I researched and wrote about five names, including Yahweh Shalom, which means “God of peace.” I delved into the New Testament to show how Jesus—the Prince of Peace—modeled peace and promised it as a gift to believers. Immediately following the week we studied Yahweh Shalom, one participant’s husband lost his job. Another’s daughter-in-law died unexpectedly and left five children motherless. A third experienced intense stress at work. It was obvious to all that Jesus orchestrated the timing of this lesson to help these women in…

ON A RECENT SATURDAY NIGHT, I jumped into the car to pick up some food at a neighborhood Chinese restaurant. After I went in and got my order, I drove off and was startled by a bright light in the dark, cloudless sky. For a few seconds, I wondered if it was a searchlight of some sort. Then I realized it was the moon! It was so full, brilliant, and low that it seemed as if I could reach out and touch it. Simply breathtaking and a little mysterious. Wow! Look at God, I said to myself. I was dazzled by the Lord’s handiwork, just as the psalmist David was. I’m also moved by a starry sky on a clear night, and I smile at a perfectly sunny day or…

AT THIS WRITING, I’M ABOUT midway through a spiritual retreat focused on discerning my vocational calling. Finally returning to work full time after fifteen years as a work-at-home mom, I’m reconstructing a career that reflects who I am today. The retreat was prompted by some failed experiences on new career paths I thought I wanted to follow. I completely trust that nothing in God’s economy is wasted, and I’ve mined all sorts of insights from my seeming mistakes. The retreat has been powerful. Lingering over the assigned themed scriptures with clear intention helps me better see who Jesus designed me to be and what type of service He has for me to do. One of the framing prayers for week two is, “Lord, give me the grace to grow in…

I’M A TAPESTRY ARTIST. ALTHOUGH tapestry is fabric, it isn’t worn or used. It’s art—meant to be seen. To elicit emotion or to tell a story. I start by placing a warp of strong cord or yarn on the loom. The vertical warp provides structure for the weaving and is the hidden core of the finished work. I draw a pattern on the warp threads with permanent marker before I weave the first weft pass. The sideways weft threads stack up tightly to fill each section of the pattern. While weaving, I must focus on the pattern in front of me. If my gaze drifts away, the image I hoped to create will be lost or unclear. So it is with life. When I look at the world and try…

THE FIVE LOVE LANGUAGES DEVELOPED by Gary Chapman explain how we give and receive love. For instance, my primary love language is acts of service. I often express love by doing practical things for people. I’ll bake brownies or muffins, for instance, and give them to our marina friends. Similarly, I feel most valued when someone does an act of service for me. My husband’s love languages are quality time and physical touch. For years, I thought I was showing him love by baking his favorite cookies, cooking healthy meals, and packing his lunches. In reality, he wished I would spend less time in the kitchen and, instead, join him on the couch to snuggle together and watch a movie. We laughed when we finally figured out the disconnect, and…

RECENTLY, MY FRIEND CHRISTINE POSTED on social media, “Check out my photos from Rome!” I followed the link and saw Christine had not traveled to Rome in person but was going on virtual tours. Through an online venue, out-of-work tour guides gave free virtual tours to “travelers.” In addition to tour guides offering tips, hodophiles (people who love to travel) were enjoying unique places worldwide while meeting those from other countries—all in the comfort of their own home. I joined some tours, and my heart was drawn to people from across the globe. Lord, each virtual tour is a window to the world. How can I reach the numerous “guides” and “travelers” for You? Jesus prompted me with an idea. Knowing that some people in the world don’t know even…

WITH THE BABY SPOON, I scooped another bite of mashed carrots and offered it to my ten-month-old granddaughter. I knew Chloe Grace was getting full, but like a baby bird, she opened her tiny mouth to accept it anyway. She smiled, put her lips together, and happily blew orange specks in my face, on my shirt, and across my pants. I giggled, wiped off the mess, and tickled her chubby chin. The little girl with strawberry-blond hair and deep blue eyes holds the first spot on my “Be of Good Cheer” list. I started the list after her birth to help me focus on the positives in my life rather than on the negatives swirling in the world around me. “Be of good cheer,” of course, is not an original…

SIX MONTHS AFTER I MET my neighbor Susan, her husband, Terry, passed away unexpectedly one night. I never had the chance to meet him. As I read his obituary and followed comments posted about him on social media, two things jumped out at me: This man lived his life loving others, and he was prepared to meet His Savior. Susan shared about their last evening together: “We had Bible study and prayer, then he was singing ‘In the Presence of Jehovah’ as we were getting ready for bed. He woke up in the presence of Jehovah! Although this was unexpected and such a shock, there is one thing I know for sure … He HAD prepared to be ready to meet Almighty God.” A few months later, Susan received the…

THE PHONE CONVERSATION LEFT ME shaken and confused. It had broken through my defenses, forcing me to look hard at the way I’d shaped my world. I walked around the living room, touching one keepsake and then another, holding them close, as if their very tangibility could set things right. Had I put being right ahead of our friendship? Had I allowed my position to shift from defendant to prosecutor—maybe even to judge? Hidden within the words my loved one spoke, I heard a message from God. It was time I listened. Shoulders slumped, I found my mind running in circles until the next day. After a fitful night, I understood. I needed another long conversation, but with Someone greater. Jesus. Tears welled in my eyes as I bent my…