Indholdsfortegnelse for May/June 2024 i Mornings with Jesus

I live in a wonderful little neighborhood. When we first moved in more than twenty-five years ago, my husband and I were one of the younger couples. When our two kids came along a few years later, the neighborhood was starting to turn over—older folks were either moving out or had passed on and younger families were moving in. My kids have fond memories of meeting up with their neighborhood buddies to ride bikes, jump on the trampoline, or play basketball in the driveway. Us parents would casually get together too, sometimes staying for a few minutes when grabbing a kid to go home or just hanging out while our kids played in the yard. Fast-forward to today. My oldest has been out of the house for over a year,…

YESTERDAY, OUR TWENTY-YEAR-OLD SON, GABRIEL, a college junior, texted my husband and me in our three-way chat: “Dad and Mom, I’e witnessed to three people! Please pray I’’l have more opportunities like this.” Misty-eyed at the man he’d become, my mind traveled back to when Gabriel was a toddler. Our pastor had preached a sermon about blessing our children. He explained it’s important to embrace them or hold their hands when blessing them. Placing our hopes for Gabriel’s future in Jesus’s hands, my husband and I began blessing him aloud every night while putting him to bed. From the time he was three until he graduated from high school, our prayers often ran like this: “Lord, thank You for Gabriel’ life, for the joy he brings our family. Fill him…

WANTING TO BLESS PASSENGERS WAITING to catch the bus in front of our house, my husband, John, and our friend Cyrus bolted a stout, rustic, hand-built wooden bench onto a concrete slab. My son, a professional illustrator, artistically painted it in multiple colors. Inevitably, summer sun and winter snow gradually wear off the paint, requiring periodic repainting. Once, an anonymous volunteer secretly painted the then-naked bench white, primed and ready for a new coat of color. Another time, an anonymous hit-and-run driver left the bench in a collapsed heap, requiring rebuilding and reinstallation. Nevertheless, despite wear and tear and mishaps, our bench is more than a seat useful for bus riders. It’s also a handy meet-up place for exchanging gifts and ideas. Wanting to give me handmade gifts and handwritten…

ON THE WALL ABOVE THE doorway to my home office is a decal that reads, “Where God guides, He provides.” I’ve seen these words hundreds of times, but their truth was put to the test during my son, DJ’s, senior year of high school. He had been accepted to several colleges, but our family had no college fund and not enough savings to send him. DJ wanted to get a degree, but I didn’t know how we were going to pay for tuition and all of the other expenses. However, remembering how Jesus had interceded for my family over the years, I stood in faith, hoping that we’d find a way. When defining faith in Hebrews 11, the writer explained it is hoping for something that can’t be seen. I…

I OPENED THE MOTHER’S DAY issue of a women’s magazine and read reader responses to the question, “What’s a positive phrase you remember your mother saying often?” The answers varied from “those hardest to love are the ones who need it most” to “cleanliness is next to godliness... so go clean your room.” My mother used to say, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” Or the equally powerful, “If you can’t be kind, be quiet.” Mother’s Day seems like a good day to revisit motherly wisdom. Did they know they were quoting Scripture in some cases or at least spouting thoughts with origins in God’s Word and the teachings and life of Jesus? For example, 1 Peter 3:10 (NKJV) states: “He who would love life…

OF ALL THE FRUIT of the Spirit listed in Galatians 5:22, patience is the one I need to work on the most. I can spend two hours watching a movie, four years earning a college degree, and decades learning how to be a good wife, but when I need a prayer answered, I want it N.O.W. Jesus doesn’t panic as my calendar pages flip forward. Rather, in my experience, He seems to take His time to give me answers. Looking back over my life, I see a common pattern. Whenever I’ve had to wait for an answer to prayer, I grow closer to Jesus in the process. When, in desperation, I dig into His Word to find promises applicable to my need, I repeatedly see His goodness, His mercy toward…

I LOVE TO WALK WITH my friends. Grabbing a cup of coffee and heading down to the Greenbelt, the path by the Boise River, rejuvenates me. We catch up on our kids. We discuss the wildness of life, how just when we think we have it all figured out, something else comes up. We chat about our struggles and our triumphs. Sometimes we talk about our dreams and what we are trying to accomplish. The rhythm of being in step with each other opens our hearts. It is soulrefreshing. As much as I love walking with friends, I’ve recently started taking walks around my neighborhood by myself. I even leave my dog, Flash, at home. Walking by myself leaves room for conversation with Jesus. As I loop my neighborhood, I…

MY SON ISAAC WAS STARTING middle school in the fall. Oh, boy! Middle school is scary under the best of circumstances, and the prospect of Isaac, who has Down syndrome, being victimized by bullies was more than I could bear. I wanted him in a safe school with good programs for special needs kids, so I talked to other parents of special needs kids about their plans. Several, including Isaac’s best friend’s family, considered applying for a program that enabled students to attend schools outside their designated area. I wanted Isaac to stay with his peers, and I prayed for direction. I emailed the agency in charge of this program for requirements and deadlines but discovered the deadline had passed. My mind raced to awful scenarios, all magnified by the…

I DECIDED TO SEW a quilt—nothing elaborate, maybe a simple patchwork design. During a little internet research, I discovered the quilt capital of the world is located only hours away in Hamilton, Missouri. A perfect excuse for a road trip! A friendly young woman greeted me at the quilt shop. I asked for an easy pattern for a beginner like me. She pointed to a quilt on display and called it the Carpenter’s Star. She’d surely misunderstood me. The star looked too complex. Then she pointed out the details, explaining how to stitch a line here and another there and cut between them to make a block, and then rearrange the blocks just so. Amazing! The simplicity of the design became visible. I left the quilt capital with a pattern…

ONE OF THE HIGHLIGHTS OF my life was accompanying my Korean War veteran father on an Honor Flight trip to Washington, D.C. At eighty-eight, Dad suffered from pulmonary fibrosis and was very weak. We’d have a jam-packed itinerary and he’d have to use a wheelchair to get around, but Dad was adamant. He wanted to see those historic memorials. Being with a group of other veterans and visiting the monuments dedicated to military service and sacrifice was a sacred experience for us both. Ever since that trip, I have thanked veterans or military personnel for their service to our country when I see them. However, one evening, when a young serviceman pulled beside me at a filling station, I was compelled to do something more than say thanks. I offered…

I SAT ON THE FLOOR, arranging plastic farm animals with my toddler granddaughter. Though Chloe rubbed her eyes and yawned a few times, I worked to engage her until lunch, ensuring a long afternoon nap. She smiled at my animated conversation between a cow and a donkey. She imitated me when I flew a chicken around her head. Then she crawled in my lap and lay on her belly. She wiggled back and forth, as if burrowing into a cozy position, and all went quiet. “Chloe? Chloe?” I whispered. No response. Peaceful sleep had overtaken her—even while she was still gripping a lamb in her left hand. Truly resting in Jesus must feel like that. Jesus bids me to come to Him when I am weary and burdened and He…

OVER THE YEARS AS I’Ve taken part in outreach efforts to share Jesus with people, I’ve oflered them little pocket-sized booklets about salvation. These little books vividly illustrate how people are separated from God due to their sin, complete with sad-face line drawings to emphasize their unfortunate spiritual situation. I admit, I had trouble sharing what seemed like bad news (that without Jesus they would face God’s wrath [John 3:36]) to people who might not want to hear it. The few takers I had went away troubled. I felt there must be a better way to share the news about Jesus. As I learned more about how much Jesus loves me, I decided to share my faith differently. During a family hotel stay, I tried it out when we encountered…

THIS WEEK, I FINALLY GOT around to cleaning all the grunge from the bottom of my silverware drawer. I shake my head in shame whenever I take on this chore because it reminds me of a time in my life when I held a less-than-Christlike attitude toward my motherin-law. It all began in my newlywed days, when Evelyn came to visit. As we worked together to clean up after a meal, she stopped me from putting the clean silverware back in the drawer. Instead, she emptied the drawer’s contents, removed the individual trays, dumped out the dirt that had collected in the bottom of each one, then scrubbed them until they were like new. She never said a word of criticism, but I felt judged. Unworthy. I didn’t think I’d…

I DIDNṔT REALIZE HOW AFRAId of heights I was until my family talked me into zip-lining in an underground cavern beneath the city of Louisville. Geared up and strapped up, I stood on a platform waiting my turn, my pulse elevated. I preferred my feet on the ground, not dangling above it, but I was determined to embrace the adventure. After surviving a few zips, I relaxed a little. Speeding through the air on a cable wasn’t so bad. Then we reached the rope bridge, suspended ten stories aboveground. One foot after another, I balanced on wood planks and ropes, panic expanding in my chest. This bridge supports 400,000 visitors a year. It can support you too, I reminded myself My legs wanted to freeze. My eyes wanted to cry.…

I WENT TO A BRIDAL shower this past weekend at a venue right on the ocean. The oceanside wall of the room was made up entirely of plate-glass windows. Nothing obstructed our view of the cobaltblue sky, puffy white clouds, and dancing waves. As I raved about the vista to the father of the soon-to-be bride, he said that when he signed the contract for the space, he tried to write in, “Windows must be perfectly clean the day of.” The manager explained he couldn’t allow that. They clean the windows weekly but aren’t in control of the weather. If a storm blows in between cleaning day and an event, there’s always the possibility of streaks. Sure enough, when I looked closer, there were streaks on the windows. I’d overlooked…

SOMETHING WAS WRONG WITH EARL, the lovable stray cat I’d adopted. He wouldn’t eat, and instead of snoozing on his chair, he stayed outside. I made a vet appointment for the following day, but Earl didn’t come in that night. The next morning, he was nowhere to be found. Earl enjoyed hunting lizards in our next-door neighbor’s wooded backyard. I thought he might be there, but an automatic gate prevented my access, and I didn’t want to ring their doorbell. We’d been friendly with the Kays when our daughters were in school together, but now we had nothing in common. We rarely spoke. Dusk had fallen, along with a cold drizzle, when I spotted Earl in the Kays’ backyard, wet, limping, clearly sick. I ran to the door and asked…

MY EARTHLY DAD WAS A great guy, and I enjoyed a nice childhood with him and my mom. He was a strict disciplinarian, though, and my years of young womanhood became a tug-of-war. In the process of growing up, I seemed to lose the closeness—the Daddy-ness—I’d had with him when I was a girl. Not surprisingly, when I received Christ as my Savior during college, my relationship with Jesus was based on His lordship, not His friendship. He talked, I obeyed. I was so grateful to be forgiven of my sins that I was happy to do so. It took me a while to realize Jesus really wanted to be my heavenly Dad. I heard people call Him “Daddy” or “Papa” when they talked about Him or prayed out loud.…

I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A caregiver. My most important role in this vein may have been as a transport nurse. I careened across hundreds of miles of two-lane roads in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan in ambulances with lights blazing and sirens blaring. I even did this once in a state trooper’s car (the speedometer hit 99!). I flew in helicopters over Central Illinois to stabilize and safely provide intensive care to very sick and tiny babies for many years. The helicopters and ambulances had radios to communicate with the neonatologists. The team stayed ready. Speed and readiness were truly a matter of life and death. I carried a dedicated phone, with my own as a backup. When I was on transports, I checked our equipment and supplies immediately after…

SOON AFTER ARRIVING AT THE Youth with a Mission (YWAM) base in Manila, Philippines, I attended a short worship service. I’d come to live at the center to attend its six-month Discipleship Training School as I searched for God’s will and purpose for my life. I’d just graduated with an associate’s degree but had no idea what I wanted to do. Twenty years old, I felt lonely and insecure since I did not know any of my classmates. At the morning service, a winsome young man, carrying only his guitar, walked up to the front and began to lead us in praise and worship. Various family problems weighed heavy on my mind, and as we sang, tears streamed down my cheeks. My anxieties melted and I felt enveloped in Jesus’s…

IN THE PAST SEVERAL YEARS, circumstances beyond my control have dashed one hope after another. For instance, my husband and I intended to invite our marina neighbors into our boat-home for Saturday morning coffee and conversation at least once every three months, but pandemic restrictions canceled our plans. We’d hoped to take a road trip to Alberta to see family and friends, but our intentions fell by the wayside when cancer struck a loved one there. Her medical treatments postponed our visit. We’d hoped to attend our mission’s staff conference in Poland recently, but two family emergencies hit us within days of our scheduled departure. We sensed God leading us to cancel our airline tickets and stay home to address the urgent needs. Life is unpredictable, and basing my hopes…

A FEW MONTHS AGO, I traveled to Kansas with a friend. When I looked at a map, I realized where we’d be staying was only an hour away from where my grandfather had grown up. One of eleven children, Grandpa Fred lived on a farm until the Dust Bowl, when his whole family moved to California in 1936. With the information provided by a relative, my friend and I traveled to that farm. I was amazed by the beautiful rolling hills, expansive fields, and endless sky. Even though the old farmhouse was no longer there, I was delighted to see the one-room schoolhouse Grandpa attended still stood. My grandfather passed away in 1999 and I miss him. I’m thankful for the stories he left behind and the new, sweet connection…

Our mission is to inspire people to believe anything is possible with faith, hope, and prayer. Printed and bound in the United States of America. Contributors: Becky Alexander, Susanna Foth Aughtmon, Jeannie Blackmer, Isabella Campolattaro, Susan Downs, Pat Butler Dyson, Grace Fox, Heidi Gaul, Tricia Goyer, Sharon Hinck, Jeanette Levellie, Ericka Loynes, Erin Keeley Marshall, Dianne Neal Matthews, Claire McGarry, Jennifer Anne Messing, Cynthia Ruchti, Emily E. Ryan, Karen Sargent, Suzanne Davenport Tietjen, Cassandra Tiersma, Pamela Howard To ussaint, Barbranda Lumpkins Walls, Brenda Yoder Credits: Cover photo: Getty Images; May monthly opener photo: Gabriel Jimenez, Unsplash; June monthly opener photo: Ben Moore, Unsplash; Editor: Carolyn Mandarano; Designer: Nicole White; Copy Editor: Camille Lofters…

LIVING IN WISCONSIN, I MOURN that our garden’s growing season is so short. I’m often scraping snow aside, wondering if my trowel will hit frost when digging in our first plantings. I watch others in warmer climates harvesting their crop of veggies while I’m still trying to keep the cold at bay from the varieties I planted that are designed for short growing seasons. The hindrance means it’s even more important to amend the soil well, giving my garden the best possible opportunity to produce a healthy, robust crop before the snow flies again. I don’t even bother trying warm-climate crops, but I appreciate what does spring up— beans, peas, onions, cucumbers, tomatoes, potatoes, squash. Good soil is important for my garden so my seeds and starter plants have the…

I WOULDN’T CALL MYSELF A seamstress, but I’ve sewn enough to know that having the right tools to work with is important. Sadly, I forget this from time to time. One Saturday afternoon, I brought down the sewing supplies from my second-floor closet to make throw pillows for my daughter’s bed and forgot the sewing scissors. Being too lazy to retrace my steps, I used our household scissors instead. They cut jagged lines and frayed the edges of the fabric. They also kept jamming, making a simple task take forever. A logical person would have gone to retrieve her sewing scissors. Not me. I forged ahead, wasting fabric and time as I cut and recut, my frustration increasing with every passing minute. My daughter finally had enough of my complaining.…

YEARS AGO, PHOTOGRAPHS OF A similar theme popped up in my Facebook feed. Each picture displayed flat, palm-sized rocks painted white then decorated with a cute angel dressed in blue with a yellow halo. Some anonymous artist had been sneaking around our community depositing angels at different homes. As people posted pictures of an angel that had appeared on a stump near their back porch or in the corner of a windowsill, they often shared how much they needed a blessing that very day. Even those of us who had not received an angel were encouraged by the random act of kindness and had fun trying to figure out who the mysterious gift giver could be. One day, my husband and I pulled into our drive and there, propped against…

YEARS AGO, I HAD a sound engineer boyfriend who toured with big-name stars. I was fortunate enough to join him on the road and saw a very famous singer in concert some twenty times all over the world. It sounds glamorous, I know, but it soon became evident that her success wasn’t all it seemed to be. I met the superstar once and saw her as fragile and self-conscious, even at the height of her fame. On stage, though, she was unfailingly dazzling, her famous voice flawless, night after night. Her entourage swarmed around her, following closely. We’d often dodge paparazzi waiting at the venue or hotel. At those times, her smile beamed—she was always dressed for the cameras. A decade later, she was dead. Surrounded by people and adoring…

I TURN FIFTY THIS YEAR, and as I grow older, I expect even greater things for my life. However, I didn’t expect to experience drastic changes to my body so quickly. Unruly gray hairs have invaded the top and front of my head, replacing my curly black strands. Rubyred frames with prescription lenses are settled on my nose to assist my failing brown eyes, and the skin I have lived in is now a bit loose and stretched out. I love growing older and being wiser, but it’s tough seeing my youthfulness fade. Paul reminded the Corinthians that their physical bodies were prone to the natural process of declining health and aging, but those same bodies also possess the miraculous life and power of Jesus. Though they couldn’t see it,…

THE TRAIL BISECTED A COOL, dark section of forest. The scent of loamy soil and spicy cedar mingled with the fragrance of the evergreens to create a lovely perfume. Just ahead, the trees opened to a small meadow, a natural cathedral of sorts. At the base of one of the stately trees, I spotted a solitary wildflower, its leaves spread wide, its white petals open to the sun. That evening as I settled into bed, my mind replayed all the beauty I’d encountered on the hike. My thoughts returned again and again to that petite flower. How could something so small have such an impact? Shouldn’t the deep woods have dominated my attention instead? Yet, the very vulnerability of that blossom somehow multiplied the forest’s magnificence. I sensed my resemblance…

I RECENTLY ENJOYED A CONVERSATION with one of my college writing students about her manuscript. We discussed metaphors and symbols, dialogue and flashbacks, scene structure and word choices. We were speaking the same language. Because her story included faith questions, we shifted into a more personal discussion about Christian beliefs. She had been deeply wounded by someone claiming to be a follower of Jesus. The abuse drove her away from Him, though she still grappled with spiritual longings. I was able to gently share my belief that she was wholly loved and accepted by Jesus and that she could always find hope in Him. I recounted a few of my zigzags in the life of faith. We listened to each other’s hearts. That fruitful and meaningful talk came about naturally…

MY HUSBAND AND I ADOPTED children from foster care, and recently our twin girls turned eighteen. They decided to reach out to their biological mother, whom they hadn't seen in a decade. Our daughters had high hopes of a good relationship with her but soon realized that wouldn’t be the case. I reminded them that while hope is important, sometimes people disappoint us. The life of Joseph (Genesis 37-50) is an example of someone who never gave up hope in God, despite what life threw at him. Joseph was sold into slavery, which took him to Egypt. Then, being falsely accused landed him in jail. Later, after interpreting a dream for the king’s cupbearer, Joseph had hope that he’d finally receive help from someone close to Pharaoh. Though Joseph offered…

WHILE IN COLLEGE, A FRIEND and I attended a weekend leadership retreat. Before the first session began, our mentor led us in an exercise about worry. He told us to make a list of everything that was distracting us. My list was long and included things like finances, exams, papers, and roommates. Then he had us put our list in an envelope and return it to him sealed. He collected our envelopes and put them into his briefcase. “I have a lot planned for you this weekend, and I don’t want you distracted by worry,” he said. “While you are here, I’m going to hold your worries for you.” I can still recall the relief I felt with his offer. My entire body relaxed with peace, and it felt as…

THE HERB COMFREY GREW LIKE a weed for me in Michigan, so I brought one when we moved to Wyoming, sure that it would multiply. I watered my comfrey morning and evening, only to find the plant distressed—leaves dry and papery, veins bulging. My comfrey plant didn’t like it here. Sandy soil, hot winds, burning sun, and low humidity were killing it. A gardening friend suggested I not water it from above to minimize evaporative loss. Watering from below was the only way to encourage the comfrey’s taproot to go deep in the high desert. But how could I do that when my plant was already in the soil? Enter ollas. These unglazed pots used for cooking can also be buried in the garden to act as an irrigation system.…

ONE OF MY FAVORITE RIDES at a theme park is actually more of a virtual-reality experience. The seats move slightly, creating sensations of flying up and down and banking around the scenery projected on the screen. Scents waft up from orange groves, and water mists riders as we seem to fly through the clouds. I love the exhilarating sensation of gliding over mountains and ocean waves, dipping and weaving. But in a few minutes, the ride is over. I never actually touched the green hillsides or splashed in the rolling waves. I viewed beautiful settings from a distance on a screen. Many people believe God created the universe and now sits back and views it from a distance. Like the drone photography that helped me see the world in the…

LAST NIGHT, JESUS GOT MY attention through a crime drama on TV. I learned that forensic investigators can tell where a crime happened by examining sand in the soles of a suspect’s or victim’ shoes. That means, each beach around the world is different enough to be recognizable and useful as an investigative tool. Coarse or fine sand. Tan, white, pink, orange, black, even purple sand. Four beaches in the world have green sand. The minerals that make up the world’s beaches can come from volcanic eruptions, ground-up seashells, or erosion of local landscape. Another sand lesson came while visiting a wet soft-sand beach. If I stood still, the incoming and outgoing waves washed the sand out from under me, making it difficult to stand. The only way I could…

AFTER MY FOURTH BOOK—Moving from Fear to Freedom: A Woman’s Guide to Peace in Every Situation—was published, every subsequent idea I pitched to editors for a fifth book was rejected over the course of several years. I began feeling as though my efforts were useless. I lost hope that my work could make a difference in someone’s life and entertained thoughts of setting my writing aside to pursue other interests. After all, why invest time and energy into something that didn’t bear fruit? One morning, feeling completely deflated, I asked Jesus to show me that day whether He wanted me to continue writing. My phone rang about five hours later. The caller was a stranger who told me that she’d never phoned an author before, but she felt compelled to…

As I WRITE THIS, I’M approaching three months since my mom’s death. Caring for her, supporting her in her final weeks, organizing the funeral, dealing with paperwork—all of it was exhausting but somehow gave me the focus or distraction I needed. I felt sorrow but also a level of numbness. In recent weeks, grief has come in waves that wallop me. I see her photo, I remember one of her sayings, I reach for the phone to tell her something—and the loss slams into the forefront of my heart. I know I’ll see her again in heaven, but this time of separation hurts. Jesus understands. In Matthew 14, He had just heard about the murder of His cousin John the Baptist. Even though Jesus experienced the wonders of heaven before…

A FEW WEEKS AGO, I was talking to my friend Tina about how I have changed over the years—and not in the best way. As a young adult, I was fearless, tackling new situations with gusto. As I’ve gotten older, I am more afraid. How did I shift from being an excited world traveler in my college years to a middle-aged mom who shoots anxious texts to her college-age children in the middle of the night? How did I go from believing that Jesus could fling open new and exciting doors of possibility in my career to just hoping I can land a writing gig that will cover the bills? There are moments when I find my hope faltering instead of flourishing. I grow anxious about family, work, and the…

MY HUSBAND AND I ARE avid gardeners, so it wasn’t a surprise that for our special anniversary, we traveled to Kauai. On Kauai, known as the Garden Island, tropical flowers carpet the countryside, and blooming vines entwine the treetops. The prized orchids I nurture with painstaking care are so common in Kauai they are almost taken for granted. As are the chickens. Hens, chicks, and roosters are everywhere. A bachelor struts past my car as I fill the tank, and a brood of six circle the table as I enjoy a meal at an open-air café. A couple of chickens even graced the lawns of the posh beachfront resort where we stayed. Their proliferation is the result of two hurricanes usurping backyard chicken coops decades ago, setting the birds free.…

SOON AFTER RETIREMENT, I DECIDED to clean my closet. My unworn teacher’s clothes took up too much space. I thought the process would be easy. But as I sorted through my skinny pants and fat pants and fatter pants, as I pulled blouses off hangers and sweaters off shelves, I removed more than clothes. I was removing twenty-five years of me. The identity that I valued, that gave my life so much purpose, lay in piles ready to be donated. Leaving the former me behind was difficult but necessary. Like my closet, my schedule gained a lot of free space when I retired. I began filling my time with activities I hadn’t prioritized in the past. A morning routine with Jesus is easier to keep when I’m not up late…

I WENT TO AN OUTDOOR concert with some friends to hear one of my all-time favorite R&B groups. Before we even made it to the entrance gate, we discovered we had to return a small cooler to the car because we couldn’t take it into the venue. Two of us told the others to go ahead and grab spots on the lawn for our blankets and chairs. We’d catch up with them later. By the time we returned to the concert site, the sun had set, and it was hard to find our friends in the throng of people. Luckily, our group spotted us wandering around in the darkness. They turned on their phones’ flashlights and waved wildly so we could see them. Later during the show, one of the…

THE MORNING AIR WAS PLEASANT on the beach when our family set out with our metal detector to navigate miles of white sand near Destin, Florida. I watched the detector head swing left and right. Every now and then, it beeped, prompting one of us to dig for the object. We collected can tabs, coins, an earring, part of a necklace, and even a stone-studded ring that we wiped off with the hope that the stones were diamonds. (They weren’t.) I love the beach in the morning. It smells fresh, the air feels cooler, and the quiet calm is mesmerizing as we greet other early risers. People on a beach hold great fascination for me, and not only the ones I see. The ones whose treasures we find with the…

A FEW WEEKS INTO MY shingles nightmare, I started to feel a bit better. I could wear real pants instead of loose-fitting yoga pants. My appetite had returned, and I could go several hours without pain medication. I told my husband, Kevin, I believed I was going to live through this ordeal, and added, “Just because I’m feeling better doesn’t mean I don’t still need your pity.” Where did that come from? I’ve always contended that pity never helped anyone. If I was hurt, I didn’t need pity, thank you very much, just prayers. Now I was admitting that I would take all the pity I could get. In Luke 17, ten lepers noticed Jesus approaching. They must have heard of His reputation as a man full of mercy. They…

I COULD FEEL THE EXCITEMENT as we arrived at the huge parking lot of FedExField, home of the Washington Commanders football team. A friend and I were there for an outdoor Sunday morning worship service with fellow believers. Greeters lined the roadway, waving enthusiastically as we drove past, and pointed us in the direction we needed to go. Thousands were gathering on the grounds, anticipating good music, wonderful fellowship, and great preaching on a warm summer day. We set up our lawn chairs and welcomed those around us. We had prayed for good weather. As we settled in, I looked up. Clouds were gathering in the sky. Could rain be on the way? The choir started to sing, and we began to clap and joyfully praise Jesus. But after a…

MY FRIEND LESLIE HAS ALWAYS been able to make me laugh. We spent ninety minutes on the phone yesterday, sharing the ins and outs of our lives, talking about our families, and rehashing who liked whom decades ago. In the real world, she is a high-powered lawyer. But to me, she is my college roommate, kindred spirit, forever friend. She texted me after we talked and said, “Those ninety minutes were good for my soul.” Ditto. The thing is, I trust Leslie. I can tell her anything, sharing my biggest hopes, my deepest fears, and my silliest thoughts. She is a true friend. She makes me feel valued and loved. I know that she would do anything for me. I would do the same for her. That is the kind…

WHEN MY CHILDREN WERE LITTLE, my father-in-law would empty the change from his pockets and divide the coins among the four of them when we ate together after church on Sundays. Sometimes he had only a few coins, but other times, he’d dump whole pockets full of change onto the table and laugh as their eyes lit up and their tiny hands struggled to contain their windfall. After one particularly generous distribution, I was frustrated to find my eight-year-old son, Canaan, dropping his coins in the restaurant parking lot as we walked to our car. I offered to keep his money safe for him, but he ignored me and continued tossing coins on the ground like a farmer scattering feed for chickens. “What are you doing?” I scolded. “Granddad just…

OUR OLD HOUSE WAS LESS than 2 miles away from chemical plants and an oil refinery. After tasting the tap water, I started buying bottled water and then splurged on a water purifier that claimed to remove 99.9 percent of contaminants from any water source. The water tasted great, but since the canister was stainless steel, I didn’t always know when it needed to be refilled. Sometimes I found it empty when I wanted to cook, make a pitcher of tea, or fill the water bottle I sipped from all day. Then it dawned on me: First thing every morning, I could empty the lower chamber and completely refill the top chamber. That would ensure I had purified water ready when I needed it. One morning as I poured the…

ONCE OR TWICE A WEEK, my daughter and I head to a horse farm where she volunteers mucking stalls, tacking and untacking lesson horses, and exercising the older horses. I don’t share her affinity for barn scents, and I don’t have her natural comfort with horses. But I’ve spent enough time around them to appreciate their personalities and strength. My daughter especially loves riding bareback. She told me she feels like worshipping when she is on the back of a horse, and I’ve seen her throw out her arms and ride across a pasture with her hair flowing behind her. Recalling her words is a beautiful reminder of the carefree, trusting position believers have in Jesus. The King James Version of today’s verses is fresh to me. I love the…

MY YORKIE PUPS MADE a game of batting back and forth the cords of our picture-window blinds, creating a tangled mess of the strings. Then, my robot vacuum sweeper finished off the job when it swirled the cords around its beater bar. I managed to free the jumbled ball from the vacuum, but it would take more than a little patience and effort to untangle the mass. I spent a good deal of time on this little project, working a few minutes here and there until my frustration level soared too high. I’d walk away and try to calm my frazzled nerves, returning hours, or sometimes days, later to attempt it once again. Often, I was convinced I’d never be able to undo the cord chaos, untangle the knots, and…

I OFTEN SEE HERONS STANDING in ankle-deep water when I walk along the Fraser River near our marina. On one occasion, several stood in a cluster, enjoying the sun’s warmth. Suddenly, a single bird took flight. It circled above its buddies and then landed in a tree about 30 feet from where I watched. Even though I couldn’t see it, I knew it was there because I had proof: I’d seen it glide into the foliage. Likewise, I can’t see Jesus, but I can know He’s real and present. I have proof. Creation, for instance, declares His wisdom, power, and glory (Psalm 8). He was with God the Father and played a role in designing our mind-boggling universe (John 1:1-3). Fulfilled Old Testament prophecies also prove that Jesus is real.…

WHILE WATCHING THE NEWS ONE night, I heard a story about the shortage of blood across the country. A plea was issued for donors. It had been a while since I had donated, so I promptly made an appointment. Upon entering the donor center, I found every chair filled with people hooked up to machines that were pumping the life-giving fluid into bags. When it was my turn, I took a seat. After about thirty minutes, I was done. On my way out, one of the center’s employees thanked me and pointed to a table. Navy-blue T-shirts were free to donors. I grabbed one. Back home, I looked at the shirt. Bold white letters proclaimed: Just Here to Save. While I knew the slogan was meant to let people know…

JEWELRY HAS NEVER BEEN MY thing. I wear two rings—my Texas A&M college ring and my mother’s wedding band. My three-yearold granddaughter, Blake, likes to play with my rings, and because I’m a pushover, I let her. But I keep a close eye on Mom’s ring. I was distracted that day as Blake and I sat at the piano. She’d placed my rings on the keys and was enjoying watching them bounce around as she banged. I looked down and saw my Aggie ring, but Mom’s ring was gone. I hopped up and scoured the floor, lifted the piano’s lid, and shook Blake’s clothing, but no ring. It couldn’t be gone! Seventy-eight years ago, my dad had given my mother that slender band of gold. It was the only ring…

A CAR SLOWED DOWN IN front of the stone chapel where I stood, without my glasses, after a Sunday morning service. The driver, a fellow church member, called to me, “Did you get contacts? Or laser eye surgery?” The answer was neither contacts nor laser surgery. It had happened during church. Sitting in my usual place in the pew, the pastor looked a bit blurry to me. When I removed my glasses, I could see him clearly. I experimented with this strange new development multiple times during the remainder of the service, each time putting my glasses back on, only to find that the pastor again looked blurry but was in clear focus when I removed my glasses. Later, the eye doctor confirmed that my distance vision had so greatly…

YEARS AGO, I FREELANCED FOR the weekly newspaper of the tiny village where we lived. My favorite assignments were interviewing community members and writing profile pieces. I soon discovered that each person’s life had an overarching theme that emerged during our conversation—one that made their story interesting and unique, no matter how ordinary their life may have appeared at first glance. I remember our grocery store’s manager, who valued his opportunity to mentor teens by providing them with their first work experience; a young business owner, who wanted nothing more than to build a career and family in the place where he had grown up; a fellow church member’s passion for helping farmers with the business side of their vocation in his role as president of a farm credit agency.…

I’M A SALT FANATIC. I’VE been known to even salt tortilla chips at restaurants after dipping them in the salsa. (I’ve checked with my doctor and my sodium levels are fine.) As most people know, salt brings out the flavors of food and acts as a preservative. I love when God uses an everyday, ordinary item, such as salt, to make an essential spiritual point. I’ve been reading Leviticus and recently studied the sacrificial systems introduced in this book of the Bible. The grain offerings in Leviticus 2 were an act of worship. The Israelites gave their finest flour as a sacrifice of thanksgiving to God for His love for them and His provision. They were told not to add leaven, as this is symbolic of corruption, but to add…

WHEN MY HUSBAND, KEVIN, NOTICED what looked like a rash on my back, I wasn’t concerned. But after I nearly fainted while getting dressed a couple days later, both of us were extremely worried. The emergency room doctor diagnosed shingles. Having heard horror stories about this virus, I knew I was in for some pain. But I didn’t have a clue about the severity of my suffering. This nasty infection attacks the nerves by sending agonizing shock waves to the affected area throughout the day and night. I took all the meds the doctor prescribed. They helped only a little, so I also tried every over-the-counter remedy I could find. Nothing worked 100 percent. Every time a jolt assaulted me, I’d cry out. Kevin always said, “Bless you.” He never…

I SAT IN THE STYLIST’S chair, energized for the jam-packed weekend. First, a hair appointment, then helping my daughter-in-law clean the house she and my son were moving into the next day. From there, I’d drive several hours to speak at a retreat. My tightly organized schedule included allotted time for each event. I liked my life to be full and busy. My day was going smoothly when I received a phone call. My husband, Ron, was in a logging accident. He was being airlifted to the regional trauma center. My no-time-to-spare schedule collapsed under the weight of a life-and-death situation. I pushed down my fear about Ron and tried to be calm as I called my kids, called the retreat event planner to cancel my speaking appearance, and cleared…

PRAYER IS MY WEAKEST SPIRITUAL discipline. I have daily rhythms of reading the Bible and journaling my thoughts, but I’m often distracted by formal prayer. Most often, I write prayers in my journal, but I consider them second-rate because they are more conversational than spiritual. That was until Jesus answered a prayer I’d been journaling for several days. Recently, my husband began working for an Amish logging company after retiring from teaching math. Raised on a farm, Ron was excited about his new job working outdoors. I started worrying about Ron’s safety, though, soon after he started. He worked long hours, often in dangerous situations. 1 routinely journaled prayers for Jesus to keep him safe. Then, a tree fell the wrong way and hit Ron from behind. The emergency room…

A FEW MONTHS AGO, I went to a conference, and I took my two preteen daughters. While I attended the sessions, my daughters explored the beautiful conference center. They also learned the phrase, “Charge it to the room.” They’d been standing in line, waiting to buy a snack, when they overheard a woman in front of them say, “Charge it to the room.” When they asked me about this novel concept, I explained that the hotel had my credit card on file. I set a limit and gave them access to my account so they would enjoy more than the paltry sum of cash in their wallets allowed them to buy. While I ensured my daughters knew I did not have endless resources, I’m grateful Jesus does. Through Him, I…

I WAS PRIVILEGED TO HAVE a father worth emulating. I’m not uncomfortable with his reputation or the memories he created. I wasn’t traumatized by his words or actions, although I must admit I didn’t care for his choice of socks, and sometimes his ties sported a remnant of what he’d had for lunch. But I have not had to bear unpleasant or destructive dad memories, as some unfortunately have. If, like Jesus, I were told I could only do what I saw my father doing, what kind of life would that be? I would be generous to a fault, making sure others didn’t go without, even at great personal cost. Because I witnessed my father doing so, I would pore over God’s Word, then flip through commentaries, fascinated by the…

LIKE MANY AMERICANS, I DIDN’T know about Juneteenth until it was signed into law as a federal holiday a few years ago. The origins of Juneteenth fascinate me. Even though President Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation on January 1, 1863, it took a while for the word to spread that enslaved people in America were now free. Slaves in Galveston, Texas, for example, remained in bondage until military troops arrived with the news of their freedom—on June 19, 1865. In contrast to the slaves in Galveston, who were free and yet believed they were enslaved, the Jewish leaders in John 8 were enslaved and thought they were free. Jesus was not speaking about their bondage to an oppressive government but their bondage to sin. Spiritually, they were slaves to sin,…

MOST MORNINGS, MY HUSBAND, TED, and I take a walk around our neighborhood. We chat, talk about the coming day, and enjoy the sunshine, fresh air, and each other’s company. There are mornings when it’s hard to drag myself out of bed, but I’m always glad afterward. Yesterday as we walked, admiring neighbors’ flower beds and blooming trees, I turned my head and noticed something unusual coming from a side street. I stopped short, my eyes widening. “Look!” I could barely get the word out. A man on a unicycle rode toward us. Ted and I applauded as he zoomed past. It felt as if we had an impromptu circus act entertain us. That happening flooded me with gratitude. It symbolized the unexpected ways Jesus surprises and delights me—often when…

I’D BEEN BROWSING THE ZILLOW site for a couple of years as my husband and I planned our move back to our home state. Then suddenly my search results dropped from the usual twenty properties to three or four. It didn’t help much when I reset the filters to include older homes and smaller lots. Clearly, this was a terrible time to buy a house. A seller’s market with a shortage of homes— most of which were overpriced. A Realtor told me that many houses sold even before being listed. I became obsessed with searching online. Then I found an old tote bag in my closet that soothed my anxiety. Sounds crazy, but I can explain. Years ago, I bought a leather tote that was absolutely perfect for work use.…

MY FRIEND JESS RECENTLY TOOK a trip overseas with her kids. Upon their return, her kids presented my kids with the barf bag from the plane (clean and unused, of course). In it were small mementos from their trip, including silly things that were given out free at their hotel: mini-shampoos, hand sanitizer, and the like. My kids thought it was the greatest thing ever and vowed to do it for them on our next trip. I think what made it so special was that Jess and her family took what was intended for terrible circumstances (if you’ve ever been sick on a plane, you’d understand) and repurposed it by filling it with little blessings intended for joy. Wouldn’t it be amazing if I could do the same in every…

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