What's Your Resource?

The other day, after washing the dishes I was gnashing my teeth over how long it was taking me to rinse the kitchen sink after scrubbing it. I mean, really, how long does it take to wash bubbles off the sides of a sink and down the drain?

Like you, I had a mile-long list of things I needed to do but it was taking f.o.r.e.v.e.r. rinsing that confounded sink. I used the dishcloth to wipe them, I used my hand to splash water on them, but still, the bubbles weren’t much closer to the drain than they had been before. Frustrating with a capital F (for my attitude right then, of course).

That’s when I had to laugh at myself. All that splashing and teeth gnashing for no reason. The sink sprayer was within six inches of my hand but I wasn’t using it. Why?! I hadn’t thought of it. I was so consumed in what I was doing, what I was thinking about, and what I needed to do that I didn’t use the resource that was right in front of me.

It was a DUH! moment.
It was a DUH! moment that God used it to show me I do the same thing in almost every area of my life.

God’s grace in my life is abundant. It overflows. But too often I forget about it. I go on about my day, doing the things I do, frustrated because it’s taking so long or is more difficult than I anticipated or… But the real problem is that I’m not using the resource that’s right in front of me and all around me. God’s strength.

My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness. 2 Corinthians 12:9

When I try to do things in my own strength I’m guaranteed frustration and possible failure. God never meant for me to do things apart from Him. The things He gave me to do require HIS power, HIS strength, HIS resources. Without those I’m just splashing water around wondering why things aren’t working like they’re supposed to.

Am I the only one who does this? Take a moment and examine what you’ve been doing lately. Are you frustrated at the ineffectiveness of your attempts to do your work? Maybe you’re using the wrong resources.

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Heart Highways

In 2009 God blessed me with a dog I never thought I'd have and I named her Gracie because she's a tangible reminder of God's grace in my life. In the many months I've had her, she's provided comfort and reassurance of God's constant love, presence and purpose in my life and she's taught me many things. Like most dogs, Gracie is a creature of habit. Although not all of her habits are good, one of them is stellar. She watches over us and protects us with her big bark. Her consistency in this became crystal clear early one morning. There, across the road, was a path Gracie had worn through the snow with her constant trotting back and forth. That got me thinking about a verse I had read just moments before...

How blessed is the man whose strength is in You,
in whose heart are the highways to Zion.
~Psalm 84:5

All of us have paths in our heart. Some of those paths might lead to a friend's house and sympathetic ear, or a family member that has always been a source of strength and comfort to us. Other paths might not end in such nice places. They might lead you straight to worry or depression or fear. The path you want to make into a highway is the path you take to the throne of God.

The inhabitants of one will go to another, saying, “Let us go at once to entreat the favor of the Lord, and to seek the Lord of hosts; I will also go.” ~Zechariah 8:21

Sometimes the landscape of my heart looks like my yard does after the kids have been outside to play in the snow. Tracks everywhere. There's no way I could follow their path after they've been outside playing for a few hours. That's not how I want my heart to be. That's not how I want my life to be either. I want those around me to be able to easily follow my path to a favorite place—the throne room of God.

That makes me wonder, have we traveled the path to God often enough to etch a path? On days when the going is rough and it's dark or foggy all around us, having a well beaten path to follow to God's throne room is a great help, especially when we're so exhausted it's hard to place one foot in front of the other. In fact, when we're that tired, a highway is what we really want. Smooth going and easy to follow.

Come and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord and to the house of the God of Jacob, that He may teach us about His ways and that we may walk in His paths. ~Micah 4:2

Let's wear wide, smooth paths to God's presence by traveling there many times a day. We want our paths to be as easy to follow as Gracie's path through snow was.

I was glad when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the Lord.” Psalm 122:1

If we want highways in our hearts then we need to consistently walk the same path. An occasional trip may leave enough footprints to see and follow but it will not wear a path.

Gracie's highway went to the far edge of the orchard, one of her favorite places to hang out, and it was a perfect example of how I want my heart to look.

I want a clearly defined path straight to the throne room of God. Don't you?

So tell me, how's your path looking? I'm gonna go work on mine... 

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Soul Quenching

The other night I didn't get Gracie, my dog, tied up when I should have and when I went out for her, she was nowhere to be found. Not only that, but she was silent, which told me my Great Pyrennes was playing possum. So, being the well trained master that I am, I grabbed her evening dog biscuit and leash, and took off for the orchard—one of her favorite haunts.

The moon hadn't come up yet and it was dark out, really dark. An amazing thing happened. The further I got away from the house and the big yard light we have, the more I could see the stars. It wasn't nearly as dark as I originally thought it was. In fact, I could see a lot with just the starlight. And not just that, things had a beauty they don't have in the sunlight.

I stopped calling for Gracie and simply stood still in the middle of the orchard. The gentle breeze blew through me just as surely as it blew through the orchard and it carried off much of the stress and strain of the day with it. I was left with the crisp freshness in my mind and soul. I didn't worry about my dog playing possum, I didn't worry about my kids' mouths or my frustration over accomplishing nothing that day. I just stood and looked up at the stars and the then at the silent orchard in the starlight. The starlight lit up the hillside, allowing me to see it in a way I don't often get to.

In the silence I could hear the whisper of the breeze and the rustle of the winter-dried grass. It was in that silence that I could finally hear my soul sigh. I didn't mind the cold, for once, I just wanted to linger and soak up the starlit silence. I wonder if that's a small glimpse of how Jesus felt when He went to a lonely place by Himself to pray.

When I was in my yard I had missed the beauty of the night because there were so many lights all around me, but when I withdrew to a hillside by myself, I found beauty, refreshment and peace. A deep, quenching peace that wrapped around me, filled me and assured me that, in the end, all would be well. God is sovereign and He loves me with an everlasting love.

And to think that I would've missed those moments with God if I had just stayed in my yard and hollered for Gracie, as I've often done. It was worth the quarter mile trek in the dark. I didn't find Gracie out there, but I found grace. Out away from the lights and noise of my yard, I found God waiting for me in a soul quenching, starlit silence.

But Jesus Himself would often slip away to the wilderness and pray. Luke 5:16

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The Abominable Snowman & Grace

Years ago we had a wonderful dog, Hagar, and I'll tell you about him some other time, but after he died I prayed for a replacement for him. We've had many dogs over those years, but none replaced Hagar—until this summer.

One day this last summer, my youngest and I found a scared great pyrennes in our back yard. She had on a collar and I expected her owner to appear at any minute. I waited for two weeks, but they never showed up. I called and checked for missing dog notices, but no one was missing a white dog, let alone a well-trained, friendly great pyrennes. (Here she is with my dad.)

In the past, we've had other great pyrennes visit us, and their owner was in our yard in a matter of hours, but this wasn't one of his. I checked. During those short visits, I fell in love with the breed. But there were a few problems. They cost a bundle of money and we've never paid for a dog. I also knew my hubster didn't like long haired animals and he didn't like white animals, either. (LoL—he's opinionated, but that's okay. I still love him!!) So I knew I'd never own a pyrennes, and I was fine with that.

When this “guest” appeared I didn't even hope to keep her. But as time went by and no owner came, we loved her more. When my hubs said we could keep her I knew she was a gift from God. I also knew it was only by God's grace that I had such an awesome dog. When I finally named her, I chose a name that would remind me of just that. I named her Gracie, for God's grace to me.

Marvelous Grace of our loving Lord,
Grace that exceeds our sin and our guilt.
Yonder on Calvary's mount outpoured,
There where the Blood of the Lamb was spilt.

Grace, Grace, God's Grace.
Grace that will pardon and cleanse within.
Grace, Grace, God's Grace.
Grace that is greater than all our sin.

Every night at bedtime I go out and tie her up for the night so she doesn't circle the house, protecting us with her big bark. Many times that evening walk with Gracie has been a soothing reminder of God's grace in my life.

And He said to me,
“My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.”
~1 Corinthians 12:9




Gracie is a gentle dog who doesn't need constant attention to be happy. She's not always in your face or crawling in your lap, like our previous dog, but when she gets to playing, watch out! She's like an abominable snowman dancing. That's what we often call her, but now, seeing her in the snow, I wonder if she isn't a polar bear instead. Whatever she is, she's won a place in our hearts and I'm so thankful for her.

When I get to feeling down or when I feel like I'm up against giants, Gracie is a visual and tactile reminder of God's grace.

So tell me, do you have any visual reminders of God's grace in your life?

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Who Needs Windows?

Ay yi yi! What a weekend it was and today was the crowning jewel. Oh. my. goodness. This weekend snowballed on me, like weekends do to all of us occasionally—not a big deal, just more going on than I anticipated, with a twist thrown in there for fun. *eye roll*

But before something else comes up in my day, the winner of Erica Vetsch's book, The Bartered Bride, which is an EXCELLENT book (I'm reading in every spare moment I have, which hasn't been much this weekend!! *rats*) is Karen K. You're gonna love it, Karen! I know I sure am! =]

And our winner for Maggie Woychik's book, I Run to the Hills is Jean Fischer. Use the Email Me button in the side bar and send me your addresses ladies. =]

Then this morning started with this...

This is almost 5 gallons of broken glass from the window beside my computer area. The seal on the thermal pane broke and my dear hubster changed the window out...which meant taking in out (thank God for storm windows!) and breaking the glass to get it out of the frame.

He was also trying to repair the window on his work van, which refused to go up and down. So his van door is disassembled and we learned we need to take it in for the part to be installed--which is unusual because normally my hub can repair almost everything. So that was two windows in the works first thing this morning.

This weekend, when we could, we worked on doing those last few things before the weather turns nasty again and stays that way for the winter, and the result of that was this:

This is the side window of my 15 passenger van as it looked this morning. Of course we didn't discover it until my daughter closed the back doors this morning and the window sagged out of the van. (Quite startling for her! LoL) It was completely shattered.

Yup, that's me reflected in the window, and if you check out just under my fingers on the right side of the picture, you'll see the root of our shattered window: a little bitty spot where a stone hit...a half an inch from the very edge of the window. We figure it happened while the guys were weed-eating yesterday. Gotta love it.

You know, even with a snowballed weekend and a day that has gone NOTHING like I planned, and even 'needed' it to go, God is still in control. He's still good! As I stood looking at my van and adding up the cost of that big side window and my hubster's window and the other window in my dining room that needs fixing, I happened to look at the glass around the tire of my van.

The sun was glinting off the shattered safety glass making it look like jewels. That's what God does with the broken and shattered pieces of our lives. He makes them glitter like precious jewels when He shines on them.

Our brokenness glitters for His glory if we just let Him shine on the shattered pieces.

That's been my day...How's your day been?

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A Fragile Balance

Fiction Friday hosted
at Rick's Pod Tales

For Fiction Friday...

Shattering glass in the kitchen jerked Lauren's head up.

“What just broke?” she called, doing a mental inventory of what had been on the counters. The sudden silence guaranteed heartache. “Do I want to know?”

“Um, I don't think so, Mom,” came the quavery reply.

Lauren's eyes clenched shut. The reigning silence easily carried her voice, “My china mug?”

“Ah, yeah.”

Looking up at the ceiling Lauren groaned. Lord, that was my favorite gift from Mom...

Taking a deep breath she stepped into the kitchen and encountered two pairs of wide eyes.

“We weren't horsing around, Mom, honest.”

“I'm so sorry, Mom. I tossed the pot holders to Brad to put away, but I threw too hard and they knocked your cup.” Tears edged his voice.

Holding up her hand for silence Lauren hunkered down and observed the damage. Scattered across the linoleum were the remains of the china mug her mother had given her after returning from England. It was the prettiest thing she owned and she treasured it.

Promise me you'll use it and not just leave it sitting on a shelf, her mother demanded when the tissue paper had revealed the roses nestled in baby's breath painted on the delicate china. It's made for service, Lauren, just like we're made for service to our Lord.

But it'll get broken if I use it, Mom. Growing kids are killers on glass and fragile things; have you forgotten how many glasses I broke when I was a kid?

Being broken is part of being used. Don't fear it...

A few short years later her mom was completely dependant on others for her basic needs: she was physically broken, yet she was still being greatly used by God.

“Don't move. Let me get these pieces first, then we can take care of the splinters.” She gathered them all onto a plate and carefully set it aside. Looking at the boys she saw trembling chins.

“I'm sorry, Mom.”

Lauren pulled them into a hug. “I know you weren't horsing around, you were working together and getting your jobs done quickly. It's ok.”

“But it was your favorite, Mom.”

“Yes,” she sighed, blinking fast. “It was my favorite, but what's done is done; there's no going back. Besides, there's more to life than a pretty china mug. C'mon, let's finish taking care of this mess.”

Later she picked up the plate of shards and went to her desk, finally allowing a few tears to fall. Lord, my mother is in a broken body yet she's still beautiful and You're using her, just not as You used to. This cup has been special to me for so many years and I 'm not ready to let go of it yet. Can I have it for a little while longer?

Wiping her eyes, Lauren pulled out the super glue and painstakingly pieced it back together, her mom's words echoing in her heart. Being broken is part of being used. Don't fear it...

When she was done, the mug was laced with glue lines and had several chips on the rim and the footed base. There was no way it would ever be used as a drinking cup again, but to Lauren it was beautiful.

“Mom?”

“Come see, guys,” she said, turning to them with an exhausted smile.

Disappointment filled their eyes when they saw it.

“It's ok, boys.”

“How? It's still all busted up, even though you glued it.”

Lauren smiled. “True, but its life isn't over, it just has a new purpose.”

The boys looked dubiously from the china mug to their mother.

“It's going to sit on my dresser and remind me to always get on with life and let God use me and work through me, even when there are pieces missing.”

“Kinda like Granma?”

“Yes, son, like Granma.”
~*~*~*~*~*~

This is one of my favorites. As I wrote it, the message reached out and gripped my heart, sinking deep inside me. The china mug in the story (and picture) is real, and I'm happy to say it's still in one piece. It was simply the jumping off point for the story.

There was supposed to be an author spotlight today, but something must have come up--If I hear back from her in time, I'll put it up just as soon as I get it.

Don't forget to check in at Rick's for links to more Friday Fiction!

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Those Pronouns!

 



Today is Monday Manna over at An Open Book. Be sure to join us there for links to more thoughts on Isaiah 53:5.

But He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed. ~Isaiah 53:5 NAS

But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. ~Isaiah 53:5 KJV

Isaiah 53 is one of my most favorite chapters in the Bible, so I was thrilled to see that Joanne chose a verse for us from there—not to mention that I happen to know this is an extra special passage for her! (Happy rebirth-day, JoDear!!) I'm a New America Standard girl, but I have to admit to loving this passage best in the King James.

Being not only a homeschool mom, but someone who spends much of my time writing, what jumps out to me is the pronouns and prepositions in this verse.

...He...for our...
...our...upon Him...
...with His...we...

If we didn't know anything else, that alone tells us so much about what Christ did for us. He died for us, in our place. He suffered through a horrible death out of LOVE for us. My mind completely boggles at that much love. Yes, I love my husband, and I love my children, but the kind of love Christ has for us is so far beyond that. Infinitely beyond that.

Because of my sin Jesus was rejected, beaten, chastised and scourged. My sin did this to Him. My sin made it necessary for Him to go through such things. And yes, necessary. The penalty and debt incurred by my sin needed to be paid, and HE paid that price. In full. Out of love. Wowzers!

Now look at those verbs!
Wounded, bruised, stripes (KJV)
pierced, crushed, scourging (NAS)

Those are strong words, especially those in the New American Standard version. I wouldn't like to experience those! (and it doesn't appear that Jesus wanted to either—look at His prayer in the Garden to see just how much He didn't want to) Yet He did. For MY sins. Out of love for me.

Lord, thank You for loving me so much that You endured all that so I could be forgiven. Your love amazes me and I hate to think where I would be without it. Thank You. Father, help me to give all I have to You! My life, my all. I love You, Lord.

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It's the Clothes!

This weekend I've had the privilege of participating in our church Christmas program. For over 25 years our church has done the Living Christmas Tree--it's a big production, requiring not just the full (and extended) choir, but drama people and 'extras', of which I'm one.









When everyone arrived for dress rehearsal, they wished they had been extras, too. Why? You should see our costumes! Wowza, they're beautiful! Never in my life have I been able to wear a Victorian style outfit, but I've always admired them, especially the hats. Guess what? I get to wear not only the hat, but the gorgeous dress to go with it!
During the Victorian scene I stroll along a 'street' with a (self-proclaimed) dapper gentleman. (Sorry, Jeff—you are dapper even though you have your shepherd's beard. LoL) Wearing that outfit makes me feel like a true lady--except for when it's hiked up to my knees and we're dashing to and from the dressing room. Strolling the aisles on Jeff's arm has been quite an experience for me, and it's given me a better understanding of being clothed by God.

I will rejoice greatly in the Lord, my soul will exult in my God; for He has clothed me with garments of salvation, He has wrapped me with a robe of righteousness,
~Isaiah 61:10

It's made me remember that God has dressed me in His righteousness, so when He looks at me, He sees the robe of righteousness that He has wrapped me in, not my abundant, ugly sin. It's not that I've done anything to deserve that most precious robe, it's a gift from God Most High, and those without that robe are sent away from Him.

But when the king came in to look over the dinner guests, he saw a man there who was not dressed in wedding clothes, and he said to him, 'Friend, how did you come in here without wedding clothes?' And the man was speechless. Then the king said to the servants, 'Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness; in that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.' For many are called, but few are chosen. ~Matthew 22:11-14

If wearing a Victorian dress and hat makes me look similar to a Victorian lady, wearing God's robe of righteousness makes me not just look the part, but BE the part.

The wrong clothes got the wedding guest kicked out of the wedding feast, and the right clothes get me into eternity with Christ. But it's not clothes that we can purchase ourselves. They've already been purchased by Jesus when He died on the cross to pay the penalty of our sins. He died and conquered death by rising from the dead. So it's not dressing in style, or out of style, or any particular kind of clothing—it's only through God's grace that we are dressed in God's righteousness.

For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast. ~Ephesians 2:8-9

How thankful I am that God has given me the robe of righteousness—there is no greater gift He could give me.

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That I may know Him

This week Joanne at An Open Book is hosting Manna Monday, join us there for links to more thoughts on these wonderful verses.

That I may know Him, and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death; in order that I may attain to the resurrection from the dead. ~Philippians 3:10-11

That I may know Him. For me that one phrase encompasses and explains so much to me.

“Lord, why did I have Guillain Barre?” ...That I may know Him. I grew spiritually when my legs were almost useless to me. That event, when I was 16, changed the course of my life and set the tone for when many others things came into my life.

“Lord, why did we lose those two babies?” ...That I may know Him. It was while reeling and then healing that I drew close to God and found in Him a constant source of comfort and light in the midst of my grief. I also have every confidence that when the next time of grieving enters my life, that God will be there, shining His light into the darkness that will try to drown me in its depths.

“Lord, why is my dad and my good friend in such constant, debilitating pain?” ...That I may know Him. Witnessing their faith while in such pain encourages and reminds me that He is always there—even when life does its best to squelch our faith.

Whenever I get to wondering about the why's of life, I always come back to this verse. ...That I may know Him. What greater thing in life is there than to know Him? And just think, it doesn't just end with knowing Him, that's just the beginning of eternity. We'll get to be with Him for all eternity.

Join us at An Open Book for more links to Monday Manna.


Missions Matter! ~Blog Giveaway coming November 12th!

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A Fragile Balance ~Fiction Friday

Welcome to Fiction Friday! Today's host is Vonnie, over at her Back Door. Be sure to visit us there for links to more great fiction. We'd love to have you join us every week, the more the merrier, and everyone is welcome to participate! Also, today I'm a guest blogger at the Internet Cafe. Come visit me and say 'hi'!

A Fragile Balance

Shattering glass in the kitchen jerked Lauren's head up.

“What just broke?” she called, doing a mental inventory of what had been on the counters. The sudden silence guaranteed heartache. “Do I want to know?”

“Um, I don't think so, Mom,” came the quavery reply.

Lauren's eyes clenched shut. The reigning silence easily carried her voice, “My china mug?”

“Ah, yeah.”

Looking up at the ceiling Lauren groaned. Lord, that was my favorite gift from Mom...

Taking a deep breath she stepped into the kitchen and encountered two pairs of wide eyes.

“We weren't horsing around, Mom, honest.”

“I'm so sorry, Mom. I tossed the pot holders to Brad to put away, but I threw too hard and they knocked your cup.” Tears edged his voice.

Holding up her hand for silence Lauren hunkered down and observed the damage. Scattered across the linoleum were the remains of the china mug her mother had given her after returning from England. It was the prettiest thing she owned and she treasured it.

Promise me you'll use it and not just leave it sitting on a shelf, her mother demanded when the tissue paper had revealed the roses nestled in baby's breath painted on the delicate china. It's made for service, Lauren, just like we're made for service to our Lord.

But it'll get broken if I use it, Mom. Growing kids are killers on glass and fragile things; have you forgotten how many glasses I broke when I was a kid?

Being broken is part of being used. Don't fear it...

A few short years later her mom was completely dependant on others for her basic needs: she was physically broken, yet she was still being greatly used by God.

“Don't move. Let me get these pieces first, then we can take care of the splinters.” She gathered them all onto a plate and carefully set it aside. Looking at the boys she saw trembling chins.

“I'm sorry, Mom.”

Lauren pulled them into a hug. “I know you weren't horsing around, you were working together and getting your jobs done quickly. It's ok.”

“But it was your favorite, Mom.”

“Yes,” she sighed, blinking fast. “It was my favorite, but what's done is done; there's no going back. Besides, there's more to life than a pretty china mug. C'mon, let's finish taking care of this mess.”

Later she picked up the plate of shards and went to her desk, finally allowing a few tears to fall. Lord, my mother is in a broken body yet she's still beautiful and You're using her, just not as You used to. This cup has been special to me for so many years and I 'm not ready to let go of it yet. Can I have it for a little while longer?

Wiping her eyes, Lauren pulled out the super glue and painstakingly pieced it back together, her mom's words echoing in her heart. Being broken is part of being used. Don't fear it...

When she was done, the mug was laced with glue lines and had several chips on the rim and the footed base. There was no way it would ever be used as a drinking cup again, but to Lauren it was beautiful.

“Mom?”

“Come see, guys,” she said, turning to them with an exhausted smile.

Disappointment filled their eyes when they saw it.

“It's ok, boys.”

“How? It's still all busted up, even though you glued it.”

Lauren smiled. “True, but its life isn't over, it just has a new purpose.”

The boys looked dubiously from the china mug to their mother.

“It's going to sit on my dresser and remind me to always get on with life and let God use me and work through me, even when there are pieces missing.”

“Kinda like Granma?”

“Yes, son, like Granma.”

********
This is my dad's favorite story, which makes it pretty special to me, in addition to being one of my favorites. I'm happy to say that the china mug my parents brought home from England for me is in one piece...so far. When Mom gave me the mug, she did tell me to use it and not just set it on a shelf (thank you, Mom, I've learned a lot from that bit of wisdom!!) and I listened to her. I'm also happy to say that the rest of the story is purely fiction!

On October 24th Shirley Jump will be a guest blogger here for Fiction Friday. She's a great author and she'll be blogging about keeping doubt from stealing our dreams. You won't want to miss her! But for today, don't forget to join us at Vonnie's Back Door for links to more fiction!

Also, be sure to check out the bloggy giveaway I'm hosting--it has a special missions emphasis, and Sunday is "Face Your If and Say..."

Missions Matter! ~Blog Giveaway coming November 12th!

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Holding Elijah

For Monday Manna, Kristen gave us Psalm 139 and let us chose the verse to write about...one verse led to another, which led to another—all in Psalm 139. Join us at Exemplify for links to more thoughts on this wonderful Psalm.
~~~~~~~~
Fourteen weeks after conception, and my precious baby was perfectly formed. Minuscule hands and feet, a face the size of a man's thumb print. A bittersweet miracle. I held him in the palm of my hand and wept for the years I would never have with this child. We named him Elijah because he was caught up early to be with the Lord.

For You formed my inward parts;
You wove me in my mother's womb.
~Psalm 139:13

How people can say that an unborn child is anything less than a person, is beyond my imagination. Elijah, and his brother after him, were perfectly formed. God had woven them together in my womb, and had they been given the time, they would have been able to live apart from me. They would have run and played with their older brothers and sisters and added to our joy. But instead, they're safe in the arms of Jesus.

Even the darkness is not dark to You,
and the night is as bright as the day.
Darkness and light are alike to You.
~Psalm 139:12

A second miscarriage is not necessarily easier than the first one, it just means that you have an idea of how things will go, but only an idea. After my first one, I needed time to heal physically, but the second one sent me into a spiritual cave. God, in His mercy and grace, allowed me a few moments of holding those babies. They are imprinted on my heart, cherished. They also pointed me to the Creator and helped me see that my darkness was not dark to Him--the Holy One, my God and my Father. He shined into my darkness, and led me out of the cave one step at a time. I learned that grief without blackness is bearable, and the Light of God dispelled the blackness, helping me bear the grief. What a great and mighty God!

I will give thanks to You,
for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
wonderful are Your works,
and my soul knows it very well.
~Psalm 139:14

Read more about Elijah here.

Don't forget:

Blog giveaway on November 12th!
Missions Matter!

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