This summer has been one long and challenging transition for me. So much has changed in my life over the past 18 months, and I’m still adjusting.   It may take me a while longer.   God is doing good things in my life, to be sure. But sometimes those good things are the result of hard things. I’m feeling a bit glad that the main months of summer have passed, hoping that my internal world will soon begin afresh like that first fallish morning with a hint of frost in the air. For that reason, I’m so glad it’s September.   Yet, I’m reminded that September is...

Painful the work God does in the heart, yet joyful its end.   That is my simple testimony so far this summer. A couple days ago I wrote a prayer based on Psalm 16, which captures my response to His work and His heart toward me, which are always, always good.   Your love draws lines around me; I am fenced in with beauty, freed up with joy! My heart is Your spacious place— there find openness for all You want to do, endless fields for sowing, deepest wells for holding Living water, richest soil for nourishing healthy, life-giving fruit. This, Your work— Your planting, Your vineyard— this is my...

and let this yearning rest in You reminding me that even the dust of earth, which I’m made of, along with its rivers and trees, stones and mountains, is lonely   for the day when You and I will no longer be separated by hope   and though the ache runs deep let it lead me to the place where only glory waits— Yours, in the wordless groans that impart the strength to endure   and the ability to receive unseen love   until disappointment itself rejoices that my heart at long last sees Your face   Romans 8:18-27...

Oh Savior, When I look into your face, all is bright and clear like a spring morning. I hear your songs, gentle and sweet; the more I listen, the more they crescendo into symphony and I long to be swept in.   I see your heart, ever blooming and blossoming with new life, the flower of forgiveness bubbling from the wound in your side; seeds of mercy raining from the scars in your hands, carpeting the pathway before more.   How endlessly you love. How ceaselessly you serve. How tirelessly you endure my emotions, doubts, fears! No love is so gentle nor all-consuming as yours.   Oh Savior!...

Today was a day of trees stretching themselves tall toward the sunshine, of dandelions growing a head taller after a day of storms. It was yellow and blue, light-filled and glistening with hope.   It is spring. And inside, I feel velveteen, verdant like the earth. I am thankful.   The first item on yesterday’s list of things I’m doing during this first week of the rest of my life is give thanks. That’s where I started today.   Interestingly, and certainly not by coincidence, I read Psalm 77 this morning, which is all about remembering God’s great work in your past and declaring it to...