Crowned from Brokenness: Secrets the Iris Taught Me

A few hundred writers had gathered to pursue their calling on a smoky North Carolina mountaintop. Sunned by worship and swathed in the dewy atmosphere of prayer, an iris raised her amethyst head near the summit stairway.She wore her crown of petals as a hard-won accomplishment. The iris began her journey…

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3 Secrets to Facing Change with Strength

An army of pines surround my home. Towering a hundred feet over our moat of grass, they toss their needled heads against the passing clouds. Howling gales bend their pulpy extremities to brush against one another. Sleet pelts through their branches and slaps their trunks. Should any one of these elderly…

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Believing the Invisible
Believing the Invisible

Believing the Invisible

“'I am the Lord’s servant,' Mary answered. 'May your word to me be fulfilled.' ... and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit.  In a loud voice she exclaimed: '... Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!'” (Luke 1:38.41-44). I once heard a call…

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Can We Recover After this Crisis?

  From pandemic health and loss struggles to violence and division, the 2020 year has pummeled us. We face an aftermath of financial struggles, family strain, and despair. Even those who once felt confident may now wonder if we can ever restore our lives. Is there hope for recovery after so…

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Can I Rejoice in a Wasteland?

The funds continue to pour out over my career with no income coming back in yet. The postcards I mailed to bring in more opportunities have harvested nothing more than a few returned as undeliverable. I stand at the edge of what might be success, but cannot see the fruit of…

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Aching as We Wait

As children, we fidgeted through the advent season. Those ribbon-locked packages peeked from under our Christmas trees as if teasing us. Some of us, not to be named, might have failed this test of patience and suffered the consequences. Christmas tests our patience in more serious ways as we mature. The…

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Robin’s Courage

Afternoon rays cast golden hues over the marble sill. Joyce wrung lemon-scented suds from her dishrag and gazed through the window. Tweeting mounted around their backyard’s birch. A robin swooped into the tree, nudging a scraggy-feathered youngling. The front door banged shut. Joyce turned from the window. “Alyssa?” “Hey, Mom.” She…

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