It is the last day of January, and the early daffodil shoots tremble in the cold, and at the touch of the shy sunlight. I watch its gentle fingering of the green stalks, new life come before its expected time.     And this is a gift today, my daughter. For I am the one whose power works in your life, exceedingly abundantly above all that you could ask or imagine, to showcase my beauty and glory like these daffodils are meant to do.    

It seems I have much in common with the little drummer boy.     At least, that’s how I felt as I sang the Christmas classic with the church choir earlier this month. As another year comes to a close and the annual deep assessment of my life commences (well, it never really comes to a complete stop for me), the little drummer boy’s conclusion feels like my own.   I have no gift to bring, pa rum pa pum pum, that’s fit to give a King, pa rum pa pum pum…   And I can’t even play the drum. Or sing very well, for that matter.   As I ponder what continues to be a very challenging season of...

Wait.   Like the night for dawn, through the long hours. Resting from day and its work. Replenishing strength in the Lord. If you let the darkness do its work of patience, if you put the trial to the test in God’s presence, if you wait on Him, your wings will grow. You won’t see them, at first. You will clamor for the definition of hope. You will stumble in ways that feel long and wide across the intended path. But when you get up you will find, you will find this: grace has hemmed you in. Its river is longer, its flow is wider. Its source is God’s love, flowing unhindered from Christ’s cross....

I pick up my week’s worth of veggies from the barn and begin to drive my car slowly down the farm’s stony driveway.     I don’t see them as I approach. But before I get close enough, they rise—a flock of pretty little birds, flying gracefully together, with bits of light and song upon their wings, against a summer-blue sky.   This picture lingers in my mind for the following week. I am realizing that I need to trust God on a deeper level than I do. I am contemplating grace and how little I truly understand it. I see how much I keep  my nose at the grindstone, always trying to be...

Tonight, all is silent except for the swelling swishes of trees in a quickly approaching storm. Thunder begins to catch up with the lightning. Soon, there will be rain in the darkness.       My house is cloaked with night. I read, in the gold chair, under the light of one bulb, Darkness and light are alike to You.   I can see nothing outside the windows, in the dark, until the lightning blinks on again. Yet, He sees everything outside, everything inside. He sees down to the places in my heart that not even I can see.   I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and...