Unchain My Heart

I’m an awful person. Really. Deep down – in those places no one sees. Hateful thoughts and judgmental “observations” and intolerant tones and ungrateful attitudes lurk. The whys prowl about  – why does it always happen to me?; why am I forced to suffer?; why my baby girl? Why? Why? Why? (Read those last three words out loud. Scary how much they sound like waah, waah, waah.) My own insecurities, regrets, and doubts feed the negativity.  At that point, I’m uncertain whether Satan’s sinister lies take me by force or if I simply surrender out of exhaustion.

In either case, these are the chains that bind my heart. Read more

Waiting and Watching and Watching and Waiting

As a child, my daddy had the most annoying habit on Christmas day. He’d gather us around the Christmas tree to open presents. That’s not the annoying part. No – the annoying part was where we’d have to wait. Wait for our turn to open gifts and Watch as everyone opened each of their gifts. Waiting and watching. Watching and waiting. Read more

Gone Too Soon

Over the last week, our nation and the world became a little less dignified. A little less civil. A little less honorable.  A little less humble. A little less colorful. Well . . . it just became a little less. Our former president, George H. W. Bush (a/k/a “Bush 41″), has “slipped the surly bonds of earth” to “touch the face of God.” (borrowing the eloquent words of another former president) After ninety-four full years, Bush 41 joined his beloved, Barbara, and their daughter, Robin, who passed at age three nearly sixty-five years ago.

Even though the Bush family is obviously saddened by their loss, it is so evident that they are also celebrating a long life, well-lived. As well, they should. President Bush’s life was filled with humility, humor, service, love, and so much more.

Celebrating life is so much easier when someone passes away just shy of a century. Read more

Are You Glad You Did?

Do you remember the first time that you “adulted” Christmas? You know – that first Christmas when you carefully curated “real” gifts for everyone on your list without your parents doing the shopping (or the buying) for you. The first year that I lived on my own, I had filled my car with presents for everyone that I loved. I was so proud to have chosen something special for each one of my family members. I was so full of anticipation just imagining everyone’s reactions as they tore through the wrappings. Read more

Chaotic Musings: Holiday Edition

Chaos is a funny thing. Sometimes it overwhelms me. The cacophony consumes me. Other times, it swirls about me perfectly choreographed so that it comes ever close but never actually touches me. Like a Square Dance caller who yells “Swing Left” at the precise moment when “swing right” would have all the madness crash into me.

(Don’t tell me you didn’t Square Dance in junior high. It’s an American right of passage. Or at least, I thought.) Read more

Milestones!

This week has been crazy with a move from Minnesota to Ohio. Somewhere in the midst of all the chaos, you guys helped this little blog reach a big milestone. Over 10,000 visitors have journeyed through the site.

10,000

“For it is in giving that we receive.” – Francis of Assisi

Each week, I pray about the message to share and then I leave it in God’s hands that the words land where they are needed. I pray that each of you who read the blog finds what you need here – and more. It is an incredible honor and blessing to share with you all.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for sharing with others. Thank you for allowing me to share.

Have a blessed week!

“There is no better way to thank God for your sight than by giving a helping hand to someone in the dark.” -Helen Keller

SDG

Bridge Over Troubled Waters

Some of my fondest memories growing up in the late 70s was when my daddy took on the role of  “human jukebox.” We didn’t call it that back then, but that’s what he did. We’d all sit around the turntable as he’d carefully slip away the album cover and then cajole the album from its sleeve. There in his deep, olive hands would gleam black, shiny vinyl. Daddy would ever so gently place the album onto the turntable and guide the arm to the exact spot that would play his song of choice. As the song wound down, he’d reverse the process and then start over with the next song on his “playlist.” We’d do this for hours. Read more