Never alone...

HE knows and loves each and every one of us so well!!!

be kind...

Let's be thankful we live in a world where little things make a difference--today be that difference for someone else!

The Silver Lining

Each trial we face in our lives has a silver lining and what we learn from going through it gives us valuable empathy to help others!

And The Greatest of These Is Love

"When I was a little boy, we children traded paper hearts at school on Valentine’s Day. At night we dropped them at the doors of our friends, stamping on the porch and then running in the dark to hide.

Almost without exception those valentines had printed on their face, “I love you.” I have since come to know that love is more than a paper heart. Love is of the very essence of life. It is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Yet it is more than the end of the rainbow. Love is at the beginning also, and from it springs the beauty that arches across the sky on a stormy day. Love is the security for which children weep, the yearning of youth, the adhesive that binds marriage, and the lubricant that prevents devastating friction in the home; it is the peace of old age, the sunlight of hope shining through death. How rich are those who enjoy it in their associations with family, friends, church, and neighbors.

I am one who believes that love, like faith, is a gift of God."

-Gordon B. Hinckley

A Divine Interruption

Author and motivational Christian speaker, Wendy Blight, shared some thoughts that inspired me to look at the biblical story of Jonah differently and understand how it applied to me personally, today. I hope her words help you, too.

"I couldn't wait to spend the whole afternoon alone. My husband was mountain biking and both of our children had plans for the day. All I could think of was the fact I would spend hours by myself...no one asking for anything...no one needing me. It was going to be a glorious day!

But then it happened. My daughter came bursting through the door saying she forgot she had a project due the next day. She needed me to take her here and rush there to purchase items she needed to complete it. Soon it became our project.

Frustration rose up within me with every step of the way. My words were few and short. I was clearly irritated and did not hesitate showing it. She was interrupting my plans.

Jonah experienced an unwelcome interruption, too. Jonah was a prophet to the Northern Kingdom of Israel. He was popular, successful, and highly respected. Then one day it happened.God interrupted his life of comfort with a command to leave his beloved country and people to preach—not to God's people—but to one of their most hated enemies.

God's call would take Jonah's life down a completely different path than the life he currently enjoyed. Jonah felt angry and frustrated...the same way I did when my daughter came bursting into the house...the same way we all do when an interruption disrupts our lives whether it be an adult child coming back home to live, an unexpected pregnancy, a job loss, a startling diagnosis or an unforeseen move.

Jonah was frustrated to such an extreme that he not only disobeyed God's instruction, he ran in the opposite direction to get as far away from God as he could.

If only Jonah could have seen the end of the story. He would have seen that this "divine" interruption was an invitation to participate in one of the more miraculous events in history, an opportunity to be part of God's eternal plan for His Kingdom.

Eventually Jonah obeyed, and God used him to bring about the revival of an entire nation of people. Jonah spoke only eight words, "Forty days from now Nineveh will be destroyed" (Jonah 3:4 NLT), and within 24 hours the people of Nineveh repented and turned from their wickedness! Some scholars believe this to be the greatest revival in human history.

Jonah's story helps me redefine "interruptions." In fact, it has made me examine every interruption to see if God's hand is in it...if there is something divine in which He is inviting me to partake.

Just a few weeks ago, we took our daughter to college. I would give anything to have that divine interruption back...to have an entire afternoon to shop with her and spend time working on a project together."

How might Jonah's story help you see the interruptions in your life differently?


Wendy is a survivor of a violent crime. She has endured unimaginable heartache and pain. Although fear held her captive for over a decade, her story is now an amazing testimony of God’s strength in our weakness, His hope in our hopelessness,and His healing in our brokenness.

Hidden Joy in a Dark Corner: The Transforming Power of God’s Story

One week after Wendy’s college graduation, she walked into her apartment to find a masked man holding a knife and waiting for her at the top of the stairs. The man spent the afternoon physically and sexually assaulting Wendy, leaving her changed forever. After this terrifying experience, she lived for years cocooned in a prison of fear, despair, and hopelessness. Finally, after years of searching and believing she had nowhere else to turn, she fell on her knees before God and poured out her tears, anger, and questions to Him. Wendy’s story is one of transformation from trauma to rebirth through the power of the Word of God.

The Fern and the Bamboo

I received this story in an email...

One day I decided to quit.

I quit my job, my relationship, my spirituality. I wanted to quit my life. I went to the woods to have one last talk with God.

"God," I said. "Can you give me one good reason not to quit?" His answer surprised me.

"Look around," He said. "Do you see the fern and the bamboo?"

"Yes." I replied.

"When I planted the fern and the bamboo seeds, I took very good care of them. I gave them light. I gave them water. The fern quickly grew from the earth. Its brilliant green covered the floor. Yet nothing came from the bamboo seed. But I did not quit on the bamboo. In the second year the Fern grew more vibrant and plentiful. And again, nothing came from the bamboo seed. But I did not quit on the bamboo.

"In the third year, there was still nothing from the bamboo seed. But I would not quit. In the fourth year, again, there was nothing from the bamboo seed. But I would not quit. In the fifth year a tiny sprout emerged from the earth. Compared to the fern it was seemingly small and insignificant. Six months later the bamboo rose to over 100 feet tall. It had spent the five years growing roots. Those roots made it strong and gave it what it needed to survive. I would not give any of my creations a challenge it could not handle."

He said to me, "Did you know, my child, that all this time you have been struggling, you have actually been growing roots. I would not quit on the bamboo. I will never quit on you. Don't compare yourself to others. The bamboo had a different purpose than the fern, yet, they both make the forest beautiful. Your time will come," God said to me. "You will rise high!"

"How high should I rise?" I asked.

"How high will the bamboo rise?" He asked in return.

"As high as it can?" I questioned.

"Yes," He said. "Give me glory by rising as high as you can."

Never regret a day in your life. Good days give you Happiness. Bad days give you Experiences. Both are essential to life. Keep going. Happiness keeps you Sweet. Trials keep you Strong. Sorrows keep you Human. Failures keep you Humble. Success keeps You Glowing. But...only God keeps You Going!

Mommy Bird

An article in National Geographic several years ago provided a penetrating picture. After a forest fire in Yellowstone National Park, forest rangers began their trek up a mountain to assess the inferno's damage. One ranger found a bird literally petrified in ashes, perched statuesquely on the ground at the base of a tree. Somewhat sickened by the eerie sight, he knocked over the bird with a stick. When he struck it, three tiny chicks scurried from under their mother's wings. The loving mother, keenly aware of impending disaster, had carried her offspring to the base of the tree and gathered them under her wings, instinctively knowing that toxic smoke would rise. She could have flown to safety, but had refused to abandon her babies. When the blaze had arrived and the heat singed her small body, the mother remained steadfast. Because she had been willing to die, those under the cover of her wings continued to live. "He shall cover thee with His feathers and under His wings shall thou trust" (Ps 91:4). Learn to experience the warmth and protection of life beneath the wings of the Almighty."

Happy Sunday!

A Mother's Prayer

There are many of you out there that can relate to Mickey's heartache. May you draw strength from her story, shared by T. Suzanne Eller. Hold fast to the truth, God knows and understands your pain and his strength will sustain you until the miracle your seeking arrives.

"Mickey's son was raised in church. He once served as a leader in his youth group. When he first started drinking, she and her husband weren't sure what to do. Then he was arrested. Then they discovered that he was using drugs. For the first time in her life, Mickey felt helpless as a mom.

Their home was a safe place where faith was lived out. And yet her son continued to spiral downward, no matter what they did. The night he broke into their small business and emptied the cash register was the bleakest night of all.

Mickey looked around the church and realized there were other moms with similar struggles. She started a Prodigal Prayer Group that met on Tuesday nights. They prayed one year, two years, and then three. Mickey saw others' children come back to their faith, but her prayers for her own son seemed to be going nowhere. Nonetheless, she continued to show up, joining in strength and support with other praying mommas.

I wish my sweet friend had a video camera recording her son through those dark days. I wish she could have seen Austin rediscover his faith, overcome his addictions, and see Austin grow into the godly man he is today.

But the reality is that Mickey didn't have a video camera. All she had was her faith. And that faith was tested over and over. She was aware of the realities of her son's choices, but she continued to pray. She continued to believe. She had to make hard choices like setting boundaries. She had to listen to other moms whose children were not straying and who did not understand her struggle.

Mickey says that during that time she began to see her son through the eyes of faith. She knew that it wasn't in her power to change her son, but that God could be her source of strength as she stayed the course.

We often say we would do anything for our children. If someone had told Mickey that it would take years of praying and believing like she did without seeing any sign of change, I wondered would she still do it? Mickey says yes, she would."

I Think God is a Quilter
(Author Unknown)

I think God is a quilter
Who takes His needle and thread
To piece our world from nothingness
And give it form, instead...

I think He cuts the patterns
From what I'd throw away.
He shows me how to use each scrap
In His redeeming way.

I think God quilts a pattern
From everything I live;
But He can only stitch the quilt
From what I choose to give.

I think God is a quilter
Stitching strength where I am weak.
Showing me that life He touches
Embraces everything I seek...

Imagine Yourself as A Living House

C. S. Lewis offers a fitting metaphor:

Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently, He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of — throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace.

The Hairbrush

April 20, 2005, at the Airport in Knoxville, waiting to board the plane, I had the Bible on my lap and was very intent upon what I was doing. I'd had a marvelous morning with the Lord. I say this because I want to tell you it is a scary thing to have the Spirit of God really working in you. You could end up doing some things you never would have done otherwise. Life in the Spirit can be dangerous for a thousand reasons not the least of which is your ego. I tried to keep from staring, but he was such a strange sight.

Humped over in a wheelchair, he was skin and bones, dressed in clothes that obviously fit when he was at least twenty pounds heavier. His knees protruded from his trousers, and his shoulders looked like the coat hanger was still in his shirt. His hands looked like tangled masses of veins and bones. The strangest part of him was his hair and nails. Stringy, gray hair hung well over his shoulders and down part of his back. His fingernails were long, clean but strangely out of place on an old man.

I looked down at my Bible as fast as I could, discomfort burning my face. As I tried to imagine what his story might have been, I found myself wondering if I'd just had a Howard Hughes sighting. Then, I remembered that he was dead. So this man in the airport...an impersonator maybe? Was a camera on us somewhere? There I sat; trying to concentrate on the Word to keep from being concerned about a thin slice of humanity served on a wheelchair only a few seats from me. All the while, my heart was growing more and more overwhelmed with a feeling for him.

Let's admit it. Curiosity is a heap more comfortable than true concern, and suddenly I was awash with aching emotion for this bizarre-looking old man.

I had walked with God long enough to see the handwriting on the wall. I've learned that when I begin to feel what God feels, something so contrary to my natural feelings, something dramatic is bound to happen and it may be embarrassing.

I immediately began to resist because I could feel God working on my Spirit and I started arguing with God in my mind. "Oh, no, God, please, no." I looked up at the ceiling as if I could stare straight through it into heaven and said, "Don't make me witness to this man. Not right here and now. Please. I'll do anything. Put me on the same plane, but don't make me get up here and witness to this man in front of this gawking audience.

Please, Lord!"

There I sat in the blue vinyl chair begging His Highness, "Please don't make me witness to this man. Not now. I'll do it on the plane." Then I heard it... "I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to brush his hair." The words were so clear, my heart leapt into my throat, and my thoughts spun like a top. Do I witness to the man or brush his hair? No-brainer. I looked straight back up at the ceiling and said, "God, as I live and breathe, I want you to know I am ready to witness to this man.
I'm on this Lord. I'm your girl! You've never seen a woman witness to a man faster in your life. What difference does it make if his hair is a mess if he is not redeemed? I am going to witness to this man." Again as clearly as I've ever heard an audible word, God seemed to write this statement across the wall of my mind. "That is not what I said, Beth. I don't want you to witness to him. I want you to go brush his hair." I looked up at God and quipped, "I don't have a hairbrush. It's in my suitcase on the plane. How am I supposed to brush his hair without a hairbrush?" God was so insistent that I almost involuntarily began to walk toward him as these thoughts came to me from God's word: "I will thoroughly furnish you unto all good works."
(2 Timothy 3:17)

I stumbled over to the wheelchair thinking I could use one myself. Even As I retell this story, my pulse quickens and I feel those same butterflies. I knelt down in front of the man and asked as demurely as possible, "Sir, may I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?"

He looked back at me and said, "What did you say?"

May I have the pleasure of brushing your hair?"

To which he responded in volume ten, "Little lady, if you expect me to Hear you; you're going to have to talk louder than that."

At this point, I took a deep breath and blurted out, "SIR, MAY I HAVE THE PLEASURE OF BRUSHING YOUR HAIR?"

At which point every eye in the place darted right at me I was the only thing in the room looking more peculiar than old Mr. Longlocks. Face crimson and forehead breaking out in a sweat, I watched him look up at me with absolute shock on his face, and say, "If you really want to." Are you kidding? Of course I didn't want to. But God didn't seem interested in my personal preference right about then. He pressed on my heart until I could utter the words, "Yes, sir, I would be pleased. But I have one little problem. I don't have a hairbrush." "I have one in my bag," he responded.

I went around to the back of that wheelchair, and I got on my hands and knees and unzipped the stranger's old carry-on, hardly believing what I was doing. I stood up and started brushing the old man's hair. It was perfectly clean, but it was tangled and matted. I don't do many things well, but must admit I’ve had notable experience untangling knotted hair mothering two little girls. Like I'd done with either Amanda or Melissa in such a condition, I began brushing at the very bottom of the strands, remembering to take my time not to pull.

A miraculous thing happened to me as I started brushing that old man's hair. Everybody else in the room disappeared. There was no one alive for those moments except that old man and me. I brushed and I brushed and I brushed until every tangle was out of that hair. I know this sounds so strange, but I've never felt that kind of love for another soul in my entire life. I believe with all my heart, I - for that few minutes - felt a portion of the very love of God. That He had overtaken my heart for a
Little while like someone renting a room and making Himself at home for a short while. The emotions were so strong and so pure that I knew they had to be God's. His hair was finally as soft and smooth as an infant's.

I slipped the brush back in the bag and went around the chair to face him. I got back down on my knees, put my hands on his knees and said, "Sir, do you know my Jesus?"

He said, "Yes, I do." Well, that figures, I thought. He explained, "I've known Him since I married my bride. She wouldn't marry me until I got to know the Savior." He said, "You see, the problem is, I haven't seen my bride in months. I've had open-heart surgery, and she's been too ill to come see me. I was sitting here thinking to myself, what a mess I must be for my bride."

Only God knows how often He allows us to be part of a divine moment when we're completely unaware of the significance. This, on the other hand, was one of those rare encounters when I knew God had intervened in details only He could have known. It was a God moment, and I'll never forget it. Our time came to board, and we were not on the same plane. I was deeply ashamed of how I'd acted earlier and would have been so proud to have accompanied him on that aircraft.

I still had a few minutes, and as I gathered my things to board, the airline hostess returned from the corridor, tears streaming down her cheeks. She said, "That old man's sitting on the plane, sobbing. Why did you do that? What made you do that?"

I said, "Do you know Jesus? He can be the bossiest thing!"
And we got to share.

I learned something about God that day He knows if you're exhausted, you're hungry, you're serving in the wrong place or it is time to move on but you feel too responsible to budge. He knows if you're hurting or feeling rejected. He knows if you're sick or drowning under a wave of temptation. Or He knows if you just need your hair brushed. He sees you as an individual. Tell Him your need!

I got on my own flight, sobs choking my throat, wondering how many opportunities just like that one had I missed along the way . . . all because I didn't want people to think I was strange. God didn't send me to that old man. He sent that old man to me.

Beth Moore

The Beauty of it All

This inspired me today, I hope it does you, too.

The Beauty of It All

Rachel Olsen, Proverbs 31 Ministry

"By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures." Proverbs 24:3-4 (NIV)

Devotion:

"Everywhere I go this month I take in the splendor of Christmas. Twinkling lights. Sparkly ornaments. Decorated cookies. Packages with shiny bows. Warm, spicy gourmand scents, mixed with the smell of fresh evergreen. A warm, crackling fire. Sounds of carols filling the air. Christmas is a feast for the senses!

Beauty pays a visit when we celebrate Christmas. Yet when I think back upon the story of Jesus' birth, there seems little lovely about it. The weariness of travel. No vacancy signs. A dusty manger. No running water. Smell of farm animals. The pain of childbirth. Damp, night air. Hay poking and scratching through makeshift blankets. I wonder then, why do we celebrate the day of Christ's birth with such decoration and adornment?

Then I notice how God marked the birth of His Son those thousands of years ago, and I begin to understand more about the ways we celebrate.
God heralded the arrival of His Son with a divine outdoor concert. According to the gospel writer Luke, shepherds sat on a hillside watching over their sheep that evening, when an angel of God appeared to them, surrounded by bright light. He said, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger" (Luke 2:10-12, NLT). Just as quickly as the first angel appeared, a large group of angels -- a whole choir full -- appeared. Praising God together, they declared, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests" (2:14, NLT). Suddenly our tradition of singing Christmas carols seems fitting.
God also announced the birth of His Son to the entire universe, according to the gospel writer Matthew, with a glorious new star in the sky. Millions of light years away, a massive ball of explosive gas began to blaze that day. Through it, God called wise men from far away lands to find and worship the true king. These wise men brought Him gifts: the spicy scents of frankincense and myrrh, as well as sparkling treasures of gold. Suddenly, the twinkling lights, the smell of fresh-baked gingerbread houses, and the carefully chosen gifts under the tree seem perfectly fitting.

In fact, the sharp contrast between our homes and towns at Christmas time and Jesus' first days on earth makes me realize just how humble Jesus is. It foreshadowed the entire life and ministry of this man who lived quite simply on earth, yet reigns as King of heaven.

I'm certain the most beautiful thing about that night centuries ago was the radiance that surely shined from the newborn cheeks, and twinkled through the precious eyes of that promised child. Yes, Beauty paid a visit that first Christmas, and He remains with us today."