Innehållsförteckning för July/August 2025 från Mornings with Jesus

When summer comes around, all I can think about is how quickly I can get myself to the nearest (or farthest) beach. Because I’ve lived nearly all my life in Tennessee, a landlocked state, the beach has come to represent an escape from the everyday. Nothing quite calms me like standing on sand and looking out at the ocean. Its beauty delights me and fills me with awe; its sounds relax me and soothe my spirit. My husband, a Florida native, doesn’t share my devotion to the sand and sea. The beach was always available to him, only a short drive away. And now it represents only sunburns, sand you can’t get rid of, and crowds. In his hometown, residents vacation in the mountains during the summer—northern Georgia, eastern Tennessee,…

WHEN WE MOVED INTO OUR little town sixteen years ago, I loved everything about it: the small beach, the new park, the full-service gas station. I couldn’t understand why my neighbor was always complaining about it. Turns out, there were only 600 residents when he moved here as a kid. A lot has changed to accommodate the current population of 15,592. Something recently happened to help me understand where he’s coming from. When I went to the full-service gas station the other day, I was shocked to find it’s now self-serve! I don’t mind pumping my own gas. It’s more the fact that it’s a major cultural shift that’s not for the better. Everyone in town went to that station and chatted with the attendants. It felt like “the good…

I NORMALLY JOG TWO TO FOUR miles a day. I seldom do any other exercise, but last week, I decided to go for a bike ride instead. I hopped on my bike, intending to ride with vigor to burn some calories. Honestly, I expected it to be easier than running. Boy, was I wrong! I set off, pedals pumping furiously, chugging along. About halfway through the ride, my legs were burning and the sweat was pouring off me, but I still had to make it home. I mustered my mental energy, along with a little bit of ego, to keep myself going. I prayed aloud for Jesus to strengthen me. Glancing ahead, even the slightest rise looked like Mount Everest. I redoubled my focus, praying, visualizing the route, redirecting my…

“I HAVE TO LEARN THIS Bible verse, Grammy,” Sadie said, shoving a yellow paper into my hand after vacation Bible school. “If I can say it tomorrow, I’ll get a giant Hershey bar!” My five-year-old granddaughter loved attending vacation Bible school at the old country church in our small community. The fun theme, “Destination Dig,” taught kids about real-life archaeological finds in Israel that proved biblical events really happened. The candy contest helped them hide Jeremiah 29:13 in their hearts. And the simple motto pointed them to the Savior: “Seek truth! Find Jesus!” On Sadie’s yellow paper, I circled three action words—seek, find, search. With a little practice, she mastered the order of the actions and memorized the verse. She quoted it to her teacher the next day, easily winning…

MY TWELVE-YEAR-OLD daughter pointed to the brightly colored wheel standing one hundred feet into the sky on Gillian’s Wonderland Pier in Ocean City, New Jersey. She pleaded with me to ride, but I declined, as always. Ana’s smile faded. The ride was one of her favorites, but I was afraid of heights. I’d tried to ride years earlier, but when I was that high in the sky, I gripped the rickety cage with both hands and prayed that Jesus would get me through. I disliked disappointing my daughter, but what could I do? “Let’s go to the bumper cars,” I suggested. We hustled to their location, as those were my favorite. Bumping around the enclosure, Ana and I howled with delight, chasing and crashing into each other around the track.…

WHAT FIELD OF LEARNING WOULD you study if you had the time and resources to pursue it? Meteorology would be at the top of my list. I’m fascinated by tornadoes, waterspouts, tsunamis, comets, and all aspects of the atmosphere and weather. I’ve never lived on a coast, where tsunamis or hurricanes are threats. But I’ve lived in the Midwest and the Ozarks, regions known for tornadoes. For many years, I’ve heard the blare of a tornado siren. When I was younger, those warnings were scary. Truth be told, there are times now when a tornado warning doesn’t faze me as it probably should. I’ve usually had the blessing of being able to find safety in a basement or storm shelter. One time, however, my husband, kids, and I survived in…

“I’M GOING UP THE COUNTRY to help Randy install his water heater,” my husband, Jeff, told me early that morning. “What can go wrong?” I asked, and Jeff cackled. He and his friend Randy undertook multiple projects and often they hit snags—needing more parts, taking more time than they had anticipated, sometimes having to totally abandon the venture. I wasn’t trying to be humorous. Jeff and Randy’s history with projects made me pessimistic about the success of this one. If there is a pessimism gene, I’d inherited it. My dad was a good husband and father, honest and kind, but if ever there was a glasshalf-empty person, it was Dad. His thinking, which my brothers and I adopted, was that if you expect the worst, the outcome is likely to…

I FREQUENTLY SCROLL THROUGH INSTAGRAM admiring the funniest animal photos of the year, award-winning landscape shots, amazing underwater images, and other pictures that fill my feed. I marvel at the beautiful images. In college I took photography classes, and I wish I had kept up with it because it’s a creative way of capturing God’s glory in the world. Recently, a friend mentioned he takes a photo every day and saves it in a gratitude album on his phone. This novel idea grabbed my attention. Research shows gratitude helps people feel happier, relish good moments, improve health, handle adversity better, and build stronger relationships. For many years, I’ve kept a gratitude journal as a practice for remembering and expressing my thankfulness to Jesus, who gave His life for me, provides…

ONE OF THE GUIDING BUSINESS principles I have lived by is to underpromise and overdeliver. I learned it early on from executives at a firm I worked for when I was a young professional. Colleagues, family members, and friends have always told me how reliable I am. But lately, I’ve felt as if I have been overpromising and underdelivering. It’s frustrating saying one thing and doing another, especially since I am usually known for following through on my word. In an attempt to understand what’s different, I’ve discovered I’ve stopped certain practices, such as creating a realistic schedule, clearly laying out plans, limiting interruptions while working, and making helpful checklists. These essential elements are what made me reliable in the first place. Sometimes when I face adversity, I step away…

A SPECIAL STORY FROM MY family tree occurred at a summer picnic in 1916. Friends and family rode in horse-drawn carriages to a favorite spot in the woods. While the adults spread blankets on the grass and unloaded food baskets, the children skipped happily and played ball. My great-aunt Treva, only five at the time, ran to visit one of the horses. Just as she raised her arm to pet him, he squealed and opened his massive mouth. Before she could back away, the horse clamped his giant teeth on her little face. A doctor in the crowd rushed to help her. He did his best to close Treva’s gaping skin and clean the wound. Her parents held her still for the many stitches, though she screamed in pain. Her…

ONE SUNDAY AFTER SERVICE, I mentioned to Eva June, a friend from church, that my favorite bumper sticker reads “Jesus Cares.” Several Sundays later, she brought me a sign she’d made. In pink needlepoint on a white background, she’d stitched “Jesus Cares.” Neither Eva June nor I had any idea of how that thoughtful little gift would change my world. Every morning as I pace and pray in my bedroom, I look over at Eva June’s needlepoint sign dozens of times. I whine to the Lord that the healing I’d asked for hasn’t arrived yet and I’m still in pain. Jesus cares. I remind Him that I’ve prayed for a certain relative for decades and they don’t seem any closer to making a decision to follow Him. Jesus cares. I…

I RECENTLY BOOKED A LAST-MINUTE, round-trip flight with horrible connections. Two were so tight that I missed one of them. During the other three seemingly endless layovers, I people-watched. Nearly everyone’s eyes were on their screens. No one made eye contact with me or chatted with passengers who weren’t in their party. The seats at the gate were full, yet I felt alone and invisible. Then I heard a distressed traveler at the service desk exclaim, “I feel seen!” Someone must have listened to whatever her problem happened to be and fixed it. The traveler thanked the airline employee profusely. The worker softly smiled. “Is there anything else I can do to help?” she asked. “No. Thank you so much!” Being seen, noticed, or understood is affirming, a welcome exception…

MY DAD LOVES TO TRAVEL. Some of his earliest childhood memories take place on board ships heading to and from India in the late 1940s and early 1950s. His parents were missionaries there. He has passed on his love for travel to his family. This summer, Dad will be taking my son Addison and my husband, Scott, on a trip to Italy. I am the trip coordinator. I have been researching hotels, reading up on the beaches in Positano, and locating Neapolitan pizzerias. I’ve looked up tours of Pompeii and the Vatican. I am already a little jealous of all the gelato they will be eating. I chatted with Dad on the phone last night about the pros and cons of rental cars, trains, and ferry rides. I could sense…

ONE OF MY FAVORITE ASPECTS of beekeeping is harvesting the honey. Honey truly is a miraculous substance. It takes twelve bees their entire lifetime to make a teaspoon of honey. They visit fifty to one hundred flowers on their flights to gather nectar each day. Honey is not only a delicacy, but it also has all sorts of health benefits. It’s used as an antidepressant, anticonvulsant, and antianxiety supplement. It’s also been shown to help prevent memory disorders, heal wounds, and lessen allergy symptoms. Did you know honey is mentioned sixty-one times in the Bible and is often associated with provision? Such as when God called Moses to lead the Israelites out of slavery into a land flowing with milk and honey (Exodus 3:8). And in Psalm 81:16, the Psalmist…

DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN YOU were assigned your first school locker? This rite of passage occurred in seventh grade for me. I secured a combination lock on the handle to prevent my peers from stealing my homework or stacking my books so they would tumble out when I opened the door. The lock, however, posed its own problems, specifically the combination to open it. I had to align three numbers just right to make the lock work. If I misaligned the numbers even a hair, the lock would not budge. Proper alignment is vital in combination locks and in my walk with Jesus. Instead of three numbers, I must align my beliefs, my actions, and my heart. I believe in helping those in need, so I cover the cost of…

I LOOK AT MY DAY PLANNER and see “Clean bathrooms.” Ugh and double ugh. I’d rather train for a marathon or memorize Psalm 119 (the longest chapter in the Bible with 176 verses) than scrub a toilet. The Love to Clean Queen I am not. Oh, yes, I’ve hired numerous people who enjoy housework to rescue me. One was allergic to cats and had my couch cushions strewn across the lawn, vacuuming them for an hour. Another wanted more money than my college graduate husband earns. The last one got testy when I asked her to pick up items and dust under, not around, them. So I prayed a desperate prayer. “Lord, please cause me to enjoy housework.” I realized this might be one of those requests that takes Jesus…

I GLANCED ACROSS THE AISLE before church service. There she sat—pretty, kind, and well-off. Men and women flocked around her, talking and laughing. Shouldn’t she let everyone take their seats? Church was about to begin. In my lap, my fingers worked a tissue into knots, as envy pooled in my heart. Lowering my gaze, I opened my Bible to some characters I know well. A jealous woman. A murderous, deceptive king. An adulteress. At times, when I read the stories of Martha, David, and Mary Magdalene, it’s as if I’m looking in a mirror. I see my vulnerabilities exposed in these people. If I allow it, I can fall back into the shame and hopelessness I experienced before I met Jesus. But I won’t. I know there is more to…

I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE THE early-morning quiet with Jesus. I rise before my husband wakes, the dawn peeps, and the birds chirp. Nestled on our vessel’s settee with coffee and journal nearby, I read my Bible and savor sweet moments with my Savior. I’ll be honest—I haven’t always considered those early-morning times delightful. I used to think that doing daily devotions was written on every good Christian’s to-do list. Do it or die trying. My perspective changed when my husband, Gene, and I were involved in an all-consuming ministry while parenting three active teenagers. That’s when I realized my desperate need for divine wisdom and supernatural strength, and I dived into my devotional time with fresh hunger. I recall asking Jesus to wake me at the time He wanted to…

MY HUSBAND AND I USED to throw big parties, but those shindigs have gone by the wayside in the busyness of raising three kids. Reminiscing about our backyard bashes, we got nostalgic. It motivated us to throw another one even though we didn’t have a special occasion to celebrate. Instead, we chose a date that worked best for us and our friends and then researched what happened on that day in history. We discovered that the day of this party was the day the Republic of Dubrovnik was conquered by the French Empire in 1808. I painted their flag on an enormous bedsheet that we hung from our basketball net. Everyone came dressed in the flag’s colors of red, white, and blue. We had silly games called “Transfer of Power”…

THE WEATHER ON THE GULF Coast of Florida, where I live, is less predictable than I thought it would be. I guess I imagined constant sunshine and year-round warm temperatures, but that just isn’t so. While my city has dodged the worst of the hurricanes in recent years, crazy summertime storms come up fast in the afternoon and don’t always blow right on through, messing up a perfectly good beach day. Sometimes my weather app will call for overcast skies or rain, and it turns out to be glorious. Wintertime can be downright cold with lows of forties, can have highs of eighties, or can have days that linger at either end of the thermometer with no apparent pattern. It seems to be getting more erratic each year. At times,…

AFTER WEEKS OF INTERVIEWS, it was down to me and another candidate for a coveted media spokesperson position at a large nonprofit. I felt confident this job was right for me, the stepping stone I needed to broaden my career in journalism. The final interview went very well and I fully expected a job offer soon after. Two weeks passed. No offer. I called the senior executive who interviewed me. Voicemail. Days went by without a response. I was discouraged. Finally, the organization let me know the bad news: they’d hired the other candidate. I cried out to Jesus. Why, Lord? I really wanted that job! My soul was crushed. How could I have been so sure of something that didn’t happen for me? Inside my spirit, Jesus answered with…

I STAND, DOOR AJAR, LETTING the air-conditioning rush out while my cat, Winnie, stands at the threshold. She sniffs the outdoors, tail twitching. Her eyes track birds flying past. Losing patience, I ask, “In or out?” Apparently, she’s asking herself the same question. On such a gorgeous summer day, why would she not take advantage of the open door? I give her a gentle nudge, which she resists. I wonder how often Jesus has held a door open, waiting on me to stop sniffing around and just go through it already. How many times have I walked away, declaring the place beyond the threshold too risky, uncomfortable, or simply not what I had planned? What opportunities have I missed? Sometimes I’ve known when Jesus has opened doors: a job change…

THE FOURTH OF JULY has always been one of my favorite holidays. I love the parades, the patriotic songs, the beautiful fireworks, and the delicious food. But nothing prepared me for the Fourth of July in our new neighborhood. The first thing that surprised me was that people shot off full-size fireworks from the comfort of their driveways. The displays were phenomenal and deafening. One of our neighbors, who had served in the military, had someone play the national anthem on the trumpet and we joined in. Then my family took a walk behind our subdivision. There is an irrigation canal with a path running alongside it that gives a great view of the entire Treasure Valley here in Idaho. We stood up on the path and watched as hundreds…

AT A PARK IN ALBANY, Oregon, a travel writer erected something called The Telephone in the Wind. Attached to a post is an oldfashioned rotary-dial phone, the kind with the long corkscrew cord from days gone by. Beside it, a sign explains the phone’s purpose. “This phone is for everyone who has lost a loved one. The phone is an outlet for those who have messages they wish to share with their lost friends and family. It is a phone for memories and saying the goodbyes you never got to say.” Many of us have lost someone dear when they’ve moved away, moved on to heaven, or when the relationship cooled over a disagreement or misunderstanding. To have that chance to stand at a phone and speak the words “I…

Two of my best friends are a mother-daughter pair named Cheryl and Emily. We have been friends for decades and have shared many good times and bad: graduations, marriages, births of children and grandchildren, divorce, sickness, loss of loved ones—the normal heartaches and joys that make up a life. A few weeks ago, Cheryl had COVID-19 and Emily got some disturbing news at a routine checkup. Two spots showed up in her lungs that concerned the doctor so much that she was immediately ordered to have further testing and a follow-up appointment with an oncologist. I have been walking with Jesus a long time now, and I’m in such constant contact that I can’t say I did any kind of formal praying. I was beside myself with worry since Cheryl…

MY GUINEA FOWL ARE THE size of pheasants and are supposed to taste as good. We wouldn’t know because we keep them to work. They kill rattlesnakes and eat all the ticks without destroying the garden. Keeping our guineas fed in winter is the hard part. Their high-protein feed comes in forty-pound bags. At the farm store, I can tip the bag off the shelf and into the cart, letting gravity do the work. An employee cheerfully loads it into my car. But once I’m home, it’s beyond my strength to carry the feed fifty yards to their pen. In all kinds of weather, my old ice-fishing sled makes the job easy enough that I don’t need help. I position the sled behind my old station wagon and roll the…

MY FRIENDS AND I WERE shopping on their yearly visit to my hometown, a tourist destination in Amish country. I bought a floral journal to support a local merchant, knowing I would need a new one the following year. I tucked it away when our weekend ended and didn’t think much about it. Months later, another friend and I were sharing our faith journeys. I confided struggling with some heartaches I was carrying for my family. Bonnie responded by praying that God would show me His delight in me. The word delight intrigued me. I sure didn’t feel delighted in the situation. It felt heavy and hard. What did delight even mean? I imagined playing with my grandsons, who are toddlers. They brought me delight! I pictured Jesus having similar…

MY HUSBAND, HAL, AND I traveled to Kansas City to attend the wedding of our niece Amani. It was a lovely outdoor ceremony on the grounds of an art museum, followed by dinner in a beautiful indoor courtyard. As we gathered to pick up our table seating cards before the meal, there was lots of chatter. When I got my card, I realized what all the buzz was about. On the seating card for each of the more than one hundred guests, the bridal couple had taken the time to write something about them. Under my name were the words, “Wise wordsmith, generous and faithful, an elegant class act.” Wow. I was touched and flattered. Those few words on each guest’s card certainly made them feel special. Amani knows me…

RECENTLY, MY HUSBAND AND I followed a trail through meadows and forested land. Our goal was to reach the top of Marys Peak, the highest mountain in Oregon’s Coast Range. The trail we hiked proved easy and wide enough for us to walk side by side. We stopped several times to enjoy the scenery. Fog rolled in almost as quickly as we climbed, and our concern grew. What could we possibly see from the top? The answer came to us as we reached the summit. A panorama as soft and elegant as down, as stunning and magnificent as the soaring of an eagle. We were on top of the world. Our view from above the clouds continued as far as our eyes could see. Mile after mile of undulating whiteness…

RECENTLY, MY HUSBAND, JOHN, GOT hearing aids. After turning them on, John’s eyes widened as he realized all he’d been missing out on. John lost much of his hearing in the military and didn’t know how muted his world was until a hearing test pointed it out. Sometimes it’s easy to take hearing for granted. The same is true when it comes to hearing the Gospel. The Gospel is good news about all Jesus accomplished to give us eternal life. To have any response, we must first hear about it. We must understand our sins and acknowledge Jesus’s death on our behalf. Only then can we become Jesus’s redeemed and beloved children. While hearing is not enough, it is the first step toward belief and repentance. Just as John realized…

“GO, BRAVES!” I hollered, as I hung on the fence at the Little League baseball park. In the last inning of the playoff game, my grandson Winston’s team, the Braves, were beating the Astros 8–7. And Winston was pitching! As I nervously gripped my husband Jeff’s arm, a mom wearing an Astros T-shirt came up behind me, invading my space, and shrieked, inches from my ear, “Kill it, Josh!” I turned and gave her a withering look, but she continued to yell while she shot a cell phone video over my shoulder. When Josh struck out, I jumped up and down, applauding loudly. Jeff stared at me in disbelief. “Pat, you clapped when that kid struck out!” “I wasn’t clapping because he struck out,” I retorted. “I was clapping against…

KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON. How many times have we seen this popular phrase on memes, clothing, mugs, and home décor? The slogan originates from morale-building posters the British government printed during World War II but never circulated. Today, we have untold variations to replace the original ending, including Knit On, Drink Tea, Hug a Tree, Call Batman. Choosing to keep calm is easier said than done. We all occasionally find ourselves sidetracked by sudden troubles. Staying calm is especially difficult for people who are emotional, prone to worry, and tend to overreact (I’m looking in the mirror here). I’ve always admired the Apostle Paul for his ability to seem cool and collected even when suffering unjust accusations, beatings, a shipwreck, and a lengthy imprisonment. Regardless of his circumstances, Paul…

AS I SIT ROCKING ON the porch this morning, my mind is in turmoil. The neighborhood appears just as it always has. Neighbor boys play in the lane with their cardboard swords and foil-covered crowns, careful not to upset the invisible steeds only small children can see and mount. Clouds billow softly in the sky, as our resident squirrel, Dirty Harry, offers his warning bark to an imaginary enemy. Like the others on my street, I’m fighting a private battle. Turbulent thoughts are stealing away my peace, stripping my awareness of blessings from the day. No one else knows about the disagreement I just had with a family member or the prayer request I’m repeating as often as the woman in the parable of the widow and the judge (Luke…

WHEN MY SON JAKE WAS in a two-year physician assistant program, he bought a baby chameleon and named him Ollie. He also bought a terrarium, filled it with live plants, and installed a complicated misting system. Apparently, chameleons prefer drinking water dripping from leaves rather than from a bowl. Ollie’s shades were vibrant and beautiful. He would change colors with circumstances. When threatened, he was the brightest. When calm, he blended more into his environment. During this time, most of my friends’ children were having babies, not raising exotic pets. When they shared their grandbaby pictures, I shared my “grand-chameleon” photos. When they talked about the difficulty of giving a new baby a bottle, I shared the difficulty of the chameleon’s drinking preferences. Although I enjoyed their stories, inwardly I…

I DON’T TALK A LOT when I’m in the theater watching movies, but when I’m at home watching television, it’s a different story. I’m extremely vocal, sometimes turning what would be an hour of pure entertainment into two hours of disruptive dialogue. Images constantly rewind, freeze, or unfreeze on-screen depending on the barrage of questions I ask my family and the advice I hurl at the characters who frustrate me: the detective who doesn’t admit wrongdoing, the captain with selective memory, the wife who manipulates situations, the roommate who plays the victim card, or the government agent who is self-absorbed. If I could just get my hands on those scripts, I would rewrite scenes to fix their flaws, force them to make better decisions, or even replace the characters altogether…

I SORTED THROUGH MY CRAFT room yesterday and verified that I have more tatting shuttles than anyone could possibly need. I’ve collected them for years. If I find one in a secondhand store, I buy it. I tell myself I’m rescuing them. That I’ll appreciate them in a world that doesn’t remember what they are. Yes, I tat and use them sometimes, but that doesn’t excuse me from always wanting more shuttles. And thread! I find myself looking online for spools of antique silk and linen thread to add to my more than sufficient stash. I enjoy the suspense of possibly being outbid on the auction site and I feel pleasure when I win. We aren’t talking about a lot of money here, but I don’t need everything I buy.…

EARLIER THIS SUMMER, MY SISTER, Jenny; sister-in-law, Traci; and I took care of our great-nieces Emma (age four) and Avery (age three) and great-nephew Owen (age one) so their parents could attend a grandkids’ birthday party for my mom’s eightieth birthday. Traci strapped Owen in his baby carrier. Jenny played with Avery. I was Emma’s aunt-on-call. We made chocolate chip scones. Emma and Avery helped measure and stir. Owen’s expressive eyebrows were lifted high in surprise. The scones were eaten by all with delight. Then we headed to a nearby park. Emma and I climbed every ladder on the structure. We went down both slides. We lay in the sand. We rode the metal animals on coils that almost whipped my back out of alignment. We waded into the little…

MY FAMILY IS IN THE process of moving. In three weeks, we’ll leave our home of sixteen years and settle into a new life on an unfamiliar street in the next neighborhood over. Yesterday we got the keys to the new house, and we spent the evening walking through the empty rooms and dreaming about how it will feel as our new home. We can’t wait to move in. But for now, we’re living in both worlds. While I spent the day at our current house doing laundry, packing boxes, and getting ready for another week of work and school, my husband, Jason, spent the day at the new house. He cleaned and painted, moved bookshelves and furniture, and patched holes in the walls to prep them for a fresh…

I HAD PLENTY OF REASONS for not attending my high school classmate’s funeral. Torrential rains made driving conditions dangerous for the trip to my hometown. I had a sore throat and didn’t want to spread my germs. I wasn’t familiar with the location of the church where the funeral was being held and my GPS was unreliable. My black dress was at the cleaners. But I’ll go, Jesus, I promised. I’ll go. Years ago, I read an essay by Deirdre Sullivan that has been my guidepost ever since. Her admonition: always go to the funeral. As a child, Sullivan’s father required her and her siblings to attend visitations and funerals to pay their respects to the grieving families. It was the right thing to do, her father told her. No…

OUR GRANDSON DANIEL PLAYS DRUMS in his high school band. Quite expertly, if I may brag a little. When he performed his first solo at a concert, my husband, Kevin, and I hooted and hollered and applauded. He told us afterward in the lobby that we’d embarrassed him. Of course. He’s seventeen. Kevin and I were quick to apologize, even though we weren’t a bit sorry. I explained that since we didn’t get to attend concerts and ball games when our three grands were small because they lived ten hours away, we had to make up for it now that they lived in the same town. We were just proud of him. He didn’t buy it. When our two children were small and displayed a godly character quality, I applauded…

JACK, OUR OLDEST, HAS LIVED in Southern California since he started college. He is a senior this year, majoring in business management and humanities. But business isn’t all he knows how to manage. He is wise in the ways of apartment living. He knows his way around a food budget and is a great cook. He has mastered the art of making scones. And his homemade jam is unparalleled. Jack and Will, our second oldest, decided to share an apartment at their school this year. When I helped Will move into their apartment, Jack invited me to come back later for dinner. When I arrived at their apartment, there were flowers on the table. A delightful aroma filled the room. Jack had made lettuce wraps with delicious seared beef and…

WE STOOD IN THE APPLIANCE aisle at the big-box store the other day contemplating a major investment. The time had come for a new dishwasher. The search had begun. Not large enough capacity. Don’t like this handle. Do you think we need a third rack? Look how flimsy this sprayer arm is. Price-wise, these five are automatic nos. We were down to a couple with similar options and little price difference when my eyes fell on a label with what might have seemed a small detail. The how-loud-is-thiswhile-running factor. We opted for the quieter of the two, not realizing the decision was no small thing after all. Yesterday, I had to put my ear to the door of the dishwasher to make sure I’d remembered to start it. Just like…

I’VE HAD THE OPPORTUNITY to visit historical cathedrals in countries including Poland, Ukraine, Russia, and Cyprus. As I gaze at the lofty vaulted ceilings, intricate designs, and paintings, I contemplate how early craftsmen invested time, energy, and resources into building these monuments for God’s glory. Some structures are more than a thousand years old. Made of stone and adorned with marble, gold, and stained glass, they stand like fortresses and appear indestructible, but they are not. Someday, Jesus says, they will collapse into heaps of rubble. A quote by C. T. Studd, a British missionary who lived a hundred years ago, challenges me to consider the difference between temporal and eternal. He wrote, “Only one life, ’twill soon be past. Only what’s done for Christ will last.” The older I…

NEW FRIENDS OFTEN ASK ME what kind of work our two grown children do. When I tell them that our son is a supervisor in a university library, I hear a wee note of pride in my voice. But I’ve noticed that my voice isn’t as chipper when I tell people our daughter is a supermarket clerk. As if overseeing a group of student workers is more important than helping people feed their families. Jesus, forgive me. Because You, of all people, understand what our daughter experiences as she serves the public. You made wine for whiners at a wedding (John 2:7–10), multiplied a meal for a mob (Mark 6:41–42), and healed a horde of heathens (Luke 4:40). Who am I to make distinctions based on someone’s choice of a…

A WOMAN AT CHURCH has been in a wheelchair for years. When her husband pulls close to the building so she can power-wheel herself into church, it’s only moments before this gracious, quirky woman with a deep and charming Southern accent is surrounded by children. She’s at their eye level. They gather around her because she has extended them her love and care, her interest in their stories, her humor, and her devotion to Jesus. Most days, pain is as constant a companion as her Savior. But she ministers from where she is to those she can reach. I only know some of the details of her life before her wheelchair. This Sunday, I learned a little more. She said, “Someday, I’ll have to tell my whole story. It’s a…

I HUSTLED ACROSS THE MEDICAL office waiting room, anxious to get on with my errands. “Joyce, is that you?” The voice came from a man in the corner. Since we were the only two people there, I assumed he was talking to me. “No, I’m not Joyce,” I said. The man asked me if I was sure I wasn’t Joyce because I looked just like her! Jesus, I don’t have time for this. I replied I was sure and headed for the door. Before I could escape, he asked if I’d grown up in Katy. I responded, not very cordially, that I’d grown up in Orange. He told me I looked enough like Joyce to be her twin, and he beckoned me over to see a picture of her he…

THE DAY AFTER MY FAMILY and I visited the Grand Canyon on a summer road trip, we drove to Yuma, Arizona, to spend an afternoon with my husband’s relatives. I was so enamored with the distant mountains and thorny vegetation that I almost missed the large wooden sign that hugged the side of the road on a sparse stretch of US 95. Its bold message—“Pause, Rest, Worship”—was like an oasis in the middle of the desert, and I craned my neck to see more as we flew by in our rented minivan. “We need to turn around!” I shouted and persuaded my husband to go exploring. To my delight, the sign led us to a beautiful, one-room tiny church that stood strong and sure in the middle of a desolate…

THOUGH I LIVE IN AN area favored by anglers and fly fishermen, I know virtually nothing about fishing. My idea of a fresh fish dinner is fish and chips from the neighborhood burger joint. Nevertheless, I identify with fish. And not just because a well-meaning friend once awkwardly described a much younger, slimmer version of me as “sleek as a trout.” No, my new revelation came to me when I discovered a map of local fishing holes posted outside our town’s parks-and-rec building. There I saw, for the first time, instructions on “How to Revive a Fish.” Never having heard of such a thing before, I was intrigued. The first-aid protocol for reviving a fish is to hold the fish upright in water facing upstream so water runs through its…

A MAGNETIC DRY-ERASE CALENDAR is stuck to the front of my refrigerator. On Sunday evenings, I transfer appointments from my phone to the fridge, filling the week with activities babysitting, professional meetings, doctor visits, deadlines. I like to see my week at a glance. Most weeks are filled with multiple commitments scribbled in each day’s block. As I take in my weekly schedule, I realize many voices have input into my calendar. My husband and daughters, my colleagues, sometimes doctors or a repairman, and me. I wonder how different my days would look if I allowed Jesus’s voice to shape my agenda. What if I started each morning asking, “What can I do for You today? Do You have something You’d like me to do for someone?” What would He…

THE CHURCH SERVICE HAD BARELY begun when I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket. Annoyed that a notification alert was interrupting the moment of worship, I checked it quickly to make sure no one in my family needed me. They didn’t. Instead, the notification read: “Totally not spam would like to share a photo.” I rolled my eyes and ignored it. There was no way I was accepting photos from a strange account. Who knows what I would find if I did? But a few minutes later, a second alert came through. “Totally not spam would like to share a photo.” Someone in the church service was sending this request. I scanned the auditorium, looking for anyone who was on his phone instead of singing along with the…

ALTHOUGH THE RIVER BEHIND OUR rented cabin was called Stillwater Creek, the water was anything but tranquil. A tributary of the Yellowstone River in Montana, it is famous for being a great fishery, with plentiful rainbow and brown trout. Stillwater is truly wild in places, with white water and huge boulders and drops. Again, it’s hardly “still.” We could hear the roar of the river from the moment we turned off the car in front of the cabin. A few minutes later, while unpacking groceries in the kitchen, I wondered whether the sound of the thundering current would keep us from getting to sleep. It reminded me of the verse in Ezekiel that says God’s voice was like the sound of “many waters.” This river, like God’s voice, was resoundingly…

A SOON-TO-BE YOUNG ADULT GRANDSON and I were having a conversation about serious issues—grave disappointments he’d experienced and a habit or two he wanted to kick. “Yeah, about that, Grandma. I’m gonna wait to deal with it until I’m not broken.” Behind his words lay so much more—distress far more serious than the fractured wrist he was nursing. It was a privilege to gently assure him that we don’t ever have to wait until we’re not broken to invite Jesus to help us with whatever the need. It’s a truth I cling to with deep gratitude. Jesus never asks us to heal first before we dare ask for His healing, to scrub our souls before we ask for His cleansing, to hose off our feet before coming to Him for…

MY BACK’S BEEN GIVING ME TROUBLE. I’m doing all the right exercises and stretches to help. And I’m heeding the suggestions to work on my posture. In first grade, I had the honor of being named Posture Queen. That’s the last time it was perfect. But I’m working on it. Biblical postures for prayer and praise have fascinated me for some of the same reasons as spinal posture—pain relief (confessing what’s hurting), greater flexibility and agility (pivoting when Jesus says to move), and putting the focus where it belongs (on the Healer). Bowed down. Hands raised. Eyes lifted toward heaven. I’ve wondered, since heaven isn’t a visible entity right now, if lifting my eyes to heaven was more symbolic than an important practice. Considering Jesus and His habits resolved that…

A PICTURE POSTED BY MY friend Mary Ann popped up in my Facebook feed. Her son, Noah, and daughter, Emma, were holding hands and skipping through a grocery store parking lot. The caption was true, judging from the huge smiles on their faces: “Pure joy.” Had the photo been taken when her kids were in elementary school, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But Noah and Emma were sixteen and eleven at the time. The same ages as my son and daughter, who, most certainly, had never held hands and skipped through a parking lot. The second my heart started to warm at Noah and Emma’s sweet display of sibling love, comparison attempted to snuff it out with doubts about my own children and their affection for each other.…

I NEGLECTED MY FLOWER BEDS, and now I regretted it. If I’d started pulling those little green sprouts when they broke through the soil last month, it wouldn’t be so overwhelming. For at least six weeks, I’d been watching the weeds grow like, well, weeds. I berated myself for having put it off. I made excuses for myself. I’d been too busy. I was too tired. It was too hot. But was I really just lazy? I haven’t always been a procrastinator. Through the years, I’ve found clarity or heard from God when my fingers were in the dirt. So why did I put off until tomorrow what I could do today when it came to pulling weeds? I resolved to turn my maybe later slogan into just do it.…

I STARED AT THE IMAGE in my bedroom’s full-length mirror. Turning side to side, I checked my appearance from every view. This dress’s waistband pinched. That top’s fabric had pilled. Just how many different outfits had I tried on? Most of the clothes in my closet had been there for years. Though nice, they’d begun to show their age and hung a tad soft on the hangers. I might as well have described myself. Then I wondered, Where did that come from? My negative attitude wasn’t about having nothing to wear. Once again, the mirror had deceived me. I’m more than a two-dimensional figure striving to look attractive. My true beauty, the part of me that Jesus cherishes, lies hidden within. Victor Hugo said, “There is one spectacle grander than…

MY HUSBAND, JOHN, AND I have been married for more than thirty years. One thing that has kept our marriage strong and our family healthy is a willingness to communicate when one of us overacts in our parenting. Raising ten kids isn’t easy, and sometimes we get it wrong. If one of us feels we didn’t fully understand a situation, and a child’s consequence didn’t fit with a child’s action, we pull the other aside. Then, with a humble attitude, we lovingly explain our thoughts to each other. Because of this, there have been times when we’ve lessened or dropped a child’s consequences. And while it isn’t fun being “wrong,” a gentle reproof given out of love is sometimes needed. The same is true in my relationship with Jesus. Sometimes…

“LORD, I FEEL ALONE,” I wrote in my journal during my morning with Jesus. Tears fell. I finally put words to what I had been feeling for a while. I felt foolish saying I was alone. People were all around me, both personally and professionally. Yet something was missing. Journaling allowed me to be honest with Jesus and myself. I searched for love and companionship in people and experiences rather than seeking the face of Jesus. I didn’t trust He was with me because I often didn’t feel Him—no wonder I felt alone. Jesus gently assured me He was with me amidst my loneliness, but I often dismissed His presence if my needs were not satisfied by others. He invited me to believe He cares, even if I didn’t see…

TODAY MY HUSBAND INSTALLED curtain rods for our elderly next-door neighbor. We weren’t always such good neighbors. Initially, I’d avoided the new neighbor man out of embarrassment. Summer mornings, I check whether the air is warmer inside or outside by lightly moving my palm from side to side in an open, south-facing window. When the outside temperature is warm, I close all the windows. Once, while checking the outside temperature with my hand, I saw a man inside the previously vacant house next door, facing my direction. I was mortified, afraid he’d thought I was waving at him from my window! Worse, I worried that through the open windows he might’ve heard my screams at the peak “scarifying” moments in the British murder mysteries I watched. Doubly embarrassed about appearing…

HOW CAN A MINIVAN GET so disgusting? I surveyed the crushed Cheerios on the floorboard and the mystery liquid hardening in the cup holders and whispered an anxious prayer: Help me, Jesus. I had been feeling out of control recently. The car was just one of many things I’d neglected over the past several weeks of grief and mourning for my late brother-in-law, Jared, who took meticulous care of his vehicles. He’d be so disappointed in me. I was in the back row, hunched over a booster seat, digging candy wrappers out from the cracks, when I saw it. Large, scratchy writing, in pen, on the back of my tan leather seats. I almost came unglued. Clearly, it was my daughter’s writing, but I couldn’t make out what it said.…

I WAS A LITTLE APPREHENSIVE about a work trip to Chicago because of the numerous flight delays and cancellations that were occurring regularly. As usual before I left, I prayed for smooth and safe travel. Unlike several of my colleagues, I had no problem reaching my destination. But on the return trip to Washington, DC, I faced flight delays. The gate agent warned us that the plane was totally booked. I prepared myself to be scrunched up in my window seat for the two-hour flight. A young man came to sit next to me. We greeted each other and watched as the other passengers boarded. The flow of people started to slow down. The guy next to me and I looked at each other—could it be on a packed flight…

EVERY YEAR AS THE DATE of my breast cancer surgery passes, I celebrate. Nothing elaborate—no parties or expensive meals in fancy restaurants are necessary. In fact, the greater the length of time that goes by, the more introspective my observances of this blessing have become. For the last decade, I’ve shared my gratefulness and awe with Jesus alone. One of the lessons He’s taught me post-surgery was the importance of slowing down. For many years, I based my self-value on how much I could accomplish daily. Every waking minute that didn’t produce tangible outcomes, I considered a waste. As a result, I adopted lifestyle choices that might have affected my emotional and physical health. This week, as my special anniversary approaches, I once again find time crunched and busyness snowballing,…

I READ THE TEXT AGAIN while dread churned in my stomach. The other person’s response sounded displeased by how I handled a situation. I thought I had done well, but worry over what this person thought of me felt as familiar as my own skin. Breathing deeply, I willed my rising defenses to relax. Maybe I had made a mistake. Or maybe the other person simply would have done things differently. In recent years, I’ve been coming to terms with how much energy I often sacrifice to gain and maintain the approval of other human beings. I’ve been learning how unhealthy people-pleasing can debilitate spiritual, emotional, and relational health. Maybe you, too, struggle with fears of disappointing others or being misunderstood. Today’s verses provide hope for overcoming unhealthy peoplepleasing. Sheltering…