I’ve lived nowhere for almost one year. At least, that’s what it felt like during the worst moments. We went from a beautiful country home to living in a camper and wintering in a friend’s home, then back to camper living April-today. Yet, truly, I was content even in the worst moments. It was a… Read More 5 Things I Learned About Surrender From Losing My Home
I am so excited to present the last of four Letters Of Hope. Each Letter is a dose of encouragement from someone who has struggled before. Cara Alexandra uses her experience with the horrors of dementia to remind us we won’t be left behind forever. To the one left behind, I recognise how hard this… Read More To The One Left Behind
Have you ever wondered, “Why did God allow this to happen to me? Does He even love me? If He did love me, wouldn’t He stop this? 1 Peter 1:1-2 “Peter, and apostle of Jesus Christ, To those who are elect exiles of the Dispersion in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia, according to the… Read More God Gives Trials To His Beloved
This poem is dedicated to anyone who struggles with depression.… Read More Joy Within My Heart (Poem)
Often to a friend in the midst of a trial, I will pray that they won’t forget the hope in Heaven. I’m asking for more than the world’s version-the simple hope that the blue sky lives behind the grey, that there will be sunshine after a rain, that color will light up the blackness.… Read More What Is The Hope In Heaven?
If you dread Sunday mornings and the sound of happy people singing, hear me: You need worship. It is the only way to get out of yourself and your depression.… Read More Worship Through The Pain
Your dry tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, and the glare of the sun reflecting on the sand makes your eyes glaze. How long have you been stranded here in this wasteland? Deep trials rob us of the ability to see anything beyond this current pain, this endless stream of suffering. It seems… Read More Look Up: The Blue Sky in the Wasteland
“On again, trot and walk and trot, jingle-jingle-jingle, squeak-squeak-squeak, smell of hot horse, smell of hot self, blinding glare, headache. And nothing at all different for mile after mile. Tashbaan would never look any further away. The mountains would never look any nearer. You felt this had been going on for always—jingle-jingle-jingle, squeak-squeak-squeak, smell of… Read More He Satisfies the Languishing