Leaving A Trail of Beauty

BE KIND ____________________________ I have a pattern. When crisis comes, whether it be personal or nationwide, I begin mulling things over, measuring my response, weighing my words, contemplating what I may have to add to the noise, the frenzy, the quick responders who sometimes speak and then think. I’ve often chided myself for not being “quick on my feet” when it comes to arguing or taking a stand. Yet I know God created me this way for a reason. My words can be like a whip. I have a veritable vocabulary-stocked Arsenal, and without thinking I can cause bomb-like damage when I choose to shoot off those words without wisdom leading the charge. I have hurt plenty who have crossed my path, but the years have been kind and taught me much. KIND (a four-letter word) One we all should practice more daily. When I don’t have the words I’d like to express at times, I turn to those who do. The following is from @holleygerth in her book #fiercehearted: “We aren’t called to be NICE. (also a four

I went on a biblical spelunking expotition ( think Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin ) this morning. I was looking for David’s plea of “how long”. I knew he’d raised it, because I know David throughout the Psalms is oh so much like me. In my quest for the verse pictured, I scampered among these other gems: “Why do the nations rage and the peoples plot in vain?” Psalm 2:1 “You have given me relief when I was in distress. Be gracious to me and hear my prayer!” Psalm 4:1b “Give ear to my words, O LORD; consider my groaning.” Psalm 5:1 “My soul also is greatly troubled. But You, O LORD—how long? Turn, O LORD, deliver my life; save me for the sake of Your steadfast love . . .” Psalm 6:3   “Why, O LORD, do You hide Yourself in times of trouble?” Psalm 10:1  More confirmation of what the Spirit has been impressing on my heart all week. I am not alone in my  anxiety, in my pleas for answers, in my groanings, in my questions, in my confusion, or my wondering where God is in

As most of us already know by the widespread news coverage and swiftly sweeping social media posts of yesterday, Kobe Bryant and his 13-year-old daughter, Gianna (Gigi) were killed in a helicopter crash, along with seven other passengers including the pilot. Immediately this morning upon engaging on social media, I found myself scrolling through tributes, heartfelt words of sympathy, well wishes, and prayers offered to Vanessa Bryant and her three surviving daughters. I heartily include myself in those numbers today, because I cannot fathom the effort just breathing in and out takes for a woman faced with such a devastating blow and loss beyond what any of us should ever have to bear. The loss of a spouse has its own set of heartbreak, but to compound that agony with the loss of a child in the same breath is beyond any superlatives I can think of in my vocabulary storehouse. So, as often as Holy Spirit prompts me, I shall gladly intercede on behalf of Vanessa, Natalia, Bianka

Following another prompt challenge this week to keep my thoughts flowing and try to be more consistent in posting. I’m a couple days behind on this one hosted by @meredith_mcdaniel, but the Lord has insisted I do NOT overlook or scoot by this first one: ACHE. First off in my head is this—ACHE does not equal pain. Let’s unpack a bit of that thought with the following quote leading the way. “Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains. It is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”   ―  C.S. Lewis A dear friend of mine messaged me this morning and mentioned a couple of different directions I could travel with “ache” as my prompt. She noted both my physical aches as well as that perspective of my heart ache. Using the Lewis quote above, I experience God using the daily ache of my body, driven by a 2001 diagnosis of fibromyalgia, to remind me how dependent I am on Him just to swing my legs over the

I do NOT look strong. I am barely 5' tall even on my fluffiest hair day anymore. My image definitely ascribes to and lives out the following verse: "So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is  wasting   away , our inner self is being renewed day by day." 2 Corinthian 4:16 ESV However, the pictured verse is where I will choose to camp for a moment today: "I ask the Father in His great glory to give you the power to be strong INWARDLY through His Spirit." Ephesians 3:16 NCV  Though my outward appearance and my own perspective of myself may indicate I have no strength or power on my own, I can ask the Father for that power through His Spirit. I can ASK for it. Inward strength. I firmly believe our Father is delighted when we recognize we can't do it. We have no strength on our own. We finally lie down at His feet and seek Him and His power. We admit we can't do it. I know I can't. I am a veritable weakling in my own strengt

I very rarely, ( read NEVER ) speak out politically. Most people I interact with probably don't know my political leanings or whether I'm even registered to vote. (I am and have been since I turned 18.) I've convinced myself over the years of a number of things that are blatantly untrue. One of those is this: Your VOICE doesn't matter. I've whispered it to myself, chanted it almost as a mantra, and slowly but surely I came to believe it. What I am here to tell you and challenge you ( and myself ) with this morning is this: If you woke up with breath in your lungs this morning, unlike those who were victims of mass shootings over this weekend, YOU HAVE A VOICE! YOU HAVE SOMETHING YOU CAN SAY and YOU CAN DO SOMETHING! I don't hesitate to come to my keyboard on any given morning to share some pretty picture overlaid with Scripture to boldly carry you forward into your day. I never wonder if I am offending any of you who saunter through my ne

Some days are just like that, aren't they? You know the ones. You wake up simultaneously whispering "Jesus" and "what in the world am I going to do?" in the same ragged breath. You long to spout faithful treatises and flowery expressions of God's sovereignty. Yet all that comes out is a puff of empty air. You don't know what to pray. You don't know what else to say. Your neck hurts from hunkering down and pushing on through. Your sleep is sporadic, because though you said you'd leave it in the capable hands of the Lord; you've conjured up a thousand ways you could try to fix it all by yourself in the inky blackness of the night. You balance the desire for the darkness to stay like a comfortable invisibility cloak and an eagerness for the dawn to break and relieve you from all those night time tangle of thoughts that send the morning racing ahead without rest for your soul. "What comes with this new day?" you hesitantl