This week I’m sweating for Jesus with some fantastic rising 7th graders who’ve chosen to serve needy families by doing yardwork and hosting a VBS in a Houston-area park. Translation? LOOOONG days of dirt, fire ants, and other creepy crawlies, not to mention stuffy church-van rides and lots of last minute changes to their VBS…
PSA: Heaven on earth does exist, and it’s in South Carolina. In June, we got the heck out of Dodge for a week at Pine Cove Chimney Point near Anderson, SC. We laughed hard, played a ton (Jet skis! Zip lines! Horses!), and studied God’s Word. No phones. Just family, friends, and the best country-fried…
Know what the soundtrack of my life is right now? The rhythm of a nail gun and the whine of a power saw. Yep, we’re in the middle of a renovation project that’s got me living out my HGTV dreams. I was telling a friend, though, that at first, every day seemed like “demo day,”…
Cruising into week three of a Joy30–a month of meditating on God’s truth about joy, and one truth stands out: some days you just have to choose gladness. As in, “This is the day the Lord has made. I WILL rejoice and be glad in it” (Ps 118:24). I’m not advocating that we fake happy…
“You need to put your armor on. You’re going out there spiritually naked.” Ouch. Spiritually naked? Me? I had just confided to a ministry veteran that I was battling terrible doubts and anxiety every time I shared my writing online. Tottering out there on my “social media platform,” I had perpetual stage fright magnified…
I remember the first time Caroline ate blueberry pancakes. Sitting in a high chair at the grandparents, she grabbed fistfuls and shoveled them in. With gusto. Then, she caught me watching (camera in hand) and broke into full-on squeals of delight in the midst of a purply mess. Joy snuck up on us, turning breakfast…
We knew, and yet we didn’t know. We’ve been preparing ourselves since early fall for the passing of my husband’s mom. We knew she was likely in her final months, and yet, when the end came on Monday night, we still felt the shock of disbelief. It’s still too tender a thing to write about…