Joy on the Ranch, Tears in the Valley

 

What better treat for having finished up the elections with true grit and determination -- than to be in Alto, Texas. Aw -- 62 beautiful acres called Epiphany Ranch. The name alone feels like a whisper from Heaven. A place for respite. Healing. Encouragement.

My Staci and Larry built more than homes, a lodge, fences and barns here. They built space for souls to breathe.

We're gathering with them — and with the newly-weds -- my granddaughter Alexia and her husband Winston. Nearly five months of marriage already. Newlywed glow still shining. Love still fresh and bright.

And yet -- woven into our joy is a quiet ache.

Theirs (and mine) -- the faithful Australian Shepherd, Buddy, is nearing his finish line. Oh, what a companion he has been.

I remember those Frisco days when he stayed with me — loyal eyes, steady presence, tail wagging like he owned the place. Our walks -- my guard and protector. Buddy has had a way of loving without complication. And saying goodbye never feels easy.

At the same time, the world feels loud. Nations at war. Headlines heavy. Tension rising.

How do we celebrate on a ranch while the world wrestles in conflict?
Maybe the answer is this -- life has always held both.

Romans 12:15 says: “Rejoice with those who rejoice -- mourn with those who mourn.”

Sometimes we do both in the same week. Sometimes in the same breath.

Jesus stood at a wedding feast and turned water into wine. And He stood at a grave and wept.

Joy and sorrow are not enemies. They are companions on this side of eternity.

While the world shakes, we hold tighter to what is steady.
“The LORD sits enthroned over the flood.” (Psalm 29:10)

He reigns over ranch land and battle lines. Over wedding rings and worn-out paws. Over laughter on the porch and tears in the night.

So this week, I will hug my family a little longer. I will celebrate young love. I will scratch behind familiar ears while I still can. And I will pray — for peace in our homes and peace in our world.

Because even when life feels mixed — joy and sorrow braided together — God remains constant.

And in Him, we find both comfort and hope.

“Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!” Psalm 126:5

Red, White, and Blue — and Rooted in Truth

Carl and I just wrapped up two weeks of Early Voting and yesterday's Election Day itself. Long days. Early mornings. Lots of smiles. And a whole lot of red, white, and blue.

There’s something sacred about watching people vote.

Young parents with babies on their hips. Seniors walking slowly -- some with canes -- others with wheel chairs -- and all were relentless and determined to vote.

Workers, including us, slipping in before our shift. Early voters who beat the rush — and late early voters who met the rush with very long lines. But here’s what amazed me:

No complaining. Just determination.

We weren’t discussing party lines or debating platforms. We were united in something simple — gratitude. Gratitude that we get to vote on a sunshine-filled Texas day.

I’ve heard it before: “What difference does my one little vote make?”

It’s true. It takes time. Research. Waiting in line. And statistically? One vote feels small.
But so does one prayer.
And we still pray.

Voting isn’t about control — it’s about stewardship. My faith shapes my values. And my values shape my vote. I don’t shout my political opinions from rooftops. I try to weigh them quietly, prayerfully.

When I step up to vote, I’m listening for that Voice.
And when it’s all counted? God is not pacing Heaven.

“The LORD can control a king’s mind as He controls a river.” (Proverbs 21:1)

His throne is still occupied. His purposes still unfold. His sovereignty has never depended on an election result.

If we don’t vote, we really shouldn’t complain. But if we do vote — we can rest. Because as followers of Jesus, our hope is not in red or blue.

It’s in the One who reigns above it all.
“Do not fear, for I am with you… I will strengthen you and uphold you.” (Isaiah 41:10)

We serve our country. We participate. We cast our vote.
We pray. We trust.

That’s the kind of red-white-and-blue faith I believe in. How about you?

The 40 Days of Lent

Not all Christians observe Lent. Some never grew up with it. Some think it’s only for certain denominations. Some just aren’t sure what it means.

So let’s “dumb it down” in the best way.
Lent is simply forty days of intentional closeness with Jesus -- His journey to the cross. Today marks the 13th day of Lent this year.

That’s it.
It’s not about earning points with God.
It’s not about spiritual dieting.
It’s not about impressing anyone.

It’s about slowing down long enough to walk where Jesus walked.

Before Easter joy came the desert. Before resurrection came -- was Christ's surrender. Jesus spent forty days preparing His heart, resisting temptation, aligning fully with His Father’s will.

Lent invites us to do the same.
Think of it like training for our souls.

We might give something up — not because chocolate is evil — but because we want to create space. Space to pray. Space to listen. Space to notice God more.

We might add something in — more Scripture, more generosity, more forgiveness, more love for our Savior.

James 4:8 says, “Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.”

That’s Lent in one sentence.

It’s a season to examine our hearts and gently ask:
Am I walking like Jesus?
Am I talking like Jesus?
Am I loving like Jesus?

It’s less about ritual and more about relationship.
It’s a journey from self to surrender -- from cross to crown.

And anyone — any Christian — can take that walk.
One small step at a time.

Because we didn’t just celebrate the cross. We followed Him there. And the beautiful part? When Easter morning arrives, resurrection feels richer. Joy feels deeper. Grace feels personal.

#lent #WalkWithJesus #EmbraceTheJourney

Soul and Body Food

I’ve noticed something about myself. I don’t forget to eat.

If there’s banana bread in the kitchen, I know it. Well that's because I made banana bread Saturday night. If there’s fresh coffee brewing, I can smell it from two rooms away. My body gets fed regularly — sometimes enthusiastically.

But my soul? That takes intention.

God doesn’t want us walking around with spiritual noodle arms — a faith that collapses at the first hint of trouble. He wants roots that go deep and muscles that hold steady.

“Let your roots grow down into Him… Then your faith will grow strong…” (Colossians 2:7)

Strong faith doesn’t happen by accident. It happens by feeding.

God’s Word is soul food. Daily bread. Not dessert. Not a snack we nibble on once a week. Real nourishment.

“Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God.” (Romans 10:17)

If my faith feels weak, it’s rarely because God moved. It’s usually because I’ve skipped a few meals.

But here’s the other part — the part we don’t always like.
Faith is also built in the gym.

Circumstances are resistance training. Delays. Disappointments. Unexpected detours. Those are spiritual dumbbells.

We don’t grow muscle without weight. And we don’t grow faith without pressure.

It would be nice if we could simply pray, “Lord, increase my faith,” and wake up spiritually ripped. But God, in His wisdom, allows just enough resistance to strengthen us without breaking us.

And somehow, when Word and weight work together — nourishment and resistance — we grow.
Stronger.
Steadier.
More grateful.

So today, Lord, bring on the soul food -- Your Word.
And if a little spiritual weight training comes with it… help us lift.
Because we don’t want wimpy faith.
We want the kind that stands firm when life shakes.

Word and workout. Bread and dumbbell. It preaches without saying a word. Let's feed our soul -- strengthen our faith......AND, grow!

Draw Me Nearer

I’ll admit it. I am spent.
Two weeks of non-stop Early Voting will do that to a girl. Early alarms. Rushing to the polls. Smiling. Organizing. Serving. Doing it all again the next day. And the next.

It almost sounds pitiful to say out loud — because I chose to serve. I’m grateful I can serve. But somewhere between the ballots and the busy, I felt it.

The quiet slipping. Not a dramatic falling away. Just a subtle drifting. Less lingering in His Word. Fewer slow prayers. More checking the clock than checking my heart.

And that’s what makes me weary.
It isn’t the work. It’s the distance.

Because I’ve learned something over the years, exhaustion isn’t always from doing too much. Sometimes it’s from drawing too little.

Too little time at Jesus' feet.
Too little stillness.
Too little nearness.

And so this old hymn started whispering to me:
“Draw me nearer, nearer, blessed Lord…”
Not louder service. Not stronger effort. Nearer.

That’s what my heart needs.
To sit again in His presence.
To let His peace settle the dust.
To open the door of my heart wide instead of squeezing Him into the leftovers of my schedule.

“Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.” (James 4:8)
Transformation doesn’t begin with effort. It begins with nearness.

Drawing nearer doesn’t require perfect prayers. It requires an open heart. A quiet yes. A willingness to sit still long enough to hear His voice.

Nearness reshapes us. And the sweetest truth? He wants this closeness even more than we do.

So today, let's open the door of our hearts just a little wider -- let Him in -- let Him heal -- let Him transform.

What a promise! God doesn’t scold the weary servant. He invites her closer.

And maybe that’s you today too. Not running from God — just running fast. Tired. Full. A little empty.

The good news? The door only needs to crack open.
And He will do the rest.

Draw me nearer, blessed Lord…because there is no safer place — no sweeter place — than close to YOU!

Don’t Let the Birds Nest There

You’ve probably heard it before:
"You can’t stop birds from flying over your head -- but you can keep them from building a nest in your hair."

Now, I don’t know about you, but some mornings my thoughts sound like a full-blown bird convention when......
Worry swoops in.
Fear circles.
Old regrets flap loudly.
That one embarrassing thing we said in 1998 suddenly returns for another flyover.
Thoughts come uninvited.

Jesus knew this would happen. That’s why Scripture gently reminds us: “Take every thought captive to make it obedient to Christ.”
— 2 Corinthians 10:5

Notice it doesn’t say prevent every thought. It says capture them.
Because thoughts are like birds — they pass through. But trouble begins when we hand them nesting material.

We replay offenses.
We rehearse fears.
We polish worries.
And before long, anxiety has moved in permanently and started decorating.

Philippians 4:8 gives us God’s housekeeping plan for the mind:
“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right -- think about such things.”

In other words — clean house.
If a thought steals peace, toss it out.
If it whispers fear, evict it.
If it contradicts God’s promises, don’t offer it a guest room.

Carl and I sometimes laugh about how quickly small worries try to unpack luggage in our minds. But peace comes when we look up instead of inward.

Isaiah 26:3 promises:
“You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in You.”

Peace isn’t the absence of birds.
It’s choosing not to let them stay.

So if today or tomorrow -- worry circles overhead like those birds trying to land -- let's just smile and say:

“Nice try — but no nesting allowed.”
Let's keep cleaning up.
Let's keep looking up.

And let's ensure our thoughts rest where they belong — safely in the hands of the One who guards our heart -- our soul.....AND our hair!

Walk a Mile in These Shoes

Before we judge someone -- let's look again.
These aren’t designer sandals.
They’re cut-up plastic bottles tied together with twine.
They’re not a fashion statement — they are necessity.

And suddenly Luke 6:37 feels less like a suggestion and more like a command: “Judge not -- condemn not -- forgive".

It’s easy to form opinions from a distance. It’s harder to imagine the miles those feet have walked. Hot dirt. Sharp stones. Long roads we have never had to travel.

We live in abundance most of the time. Closets full. Pantries stocked. Options everywhere. But somewhere in this great big world, someone is fashioning shoes from trash just to protect their soles.

And God sees them.
He sees the callouses.
He sees the hunger.
He sees the resilience.
He sees the dignity.

Appearances can deceive us -- but hearts tell the real story.

As God’s ambassadors, we are not called to evaluate people. We are called to love them. To pray for them. To stand in the gap for those who have less than we do and carry more than we can imagine.

Lord, please forgive us for judging those who beg on street corners. Please forgive us for counting them out.

What if instead of judging, we interceded?
What if instead of assuming, we asked God to bless?
What if instead of turning away, we allowed our hearts to break a little?

“Whatever you did for one of the least of these -- you did for Me.” (Matthew 25:40)

Those words change everything.
Because that image? That’s not “them.”
That’s someone Jesus loves. Lord, soften our hearts.
Make us generous. Make us compassionate.
Make us people who look deeper and love wider.

Before we judge someone -- may we first learn to kneel and pray.
And maybe — just maybe — we walk a mile in their shoes.

God’s Great Big Beautiful Family

Have you ever noticed how church can feel like a family reunion — minus Aunt Mildred’s potato salad and Uncle Bob’s political debates?

You walk in thinking, We’re just checking out this random church. Casual. Observing. Sitting near the back in case we need a quick escape.

And then something happens.
Someone remembers your name.

A Bible study turns into conversation.
A Wednesday night meal turns into laughter.
A class turns into connection.
And before we know it, when we miss a Sunday, our phone buzzes:
“Are you okay? We missed you.”

That’s when we realize — this isn’t random. This is family.

God never meant for us to white-knuckle life alone. From the very beginning, His plan was adoption.

“His unchanging plan has always been to adopt us into His own family by sending Jesus Christ…” (Ephesians 1:5)

He wanted us.
And He still does.

Some people think church is a building. Or a weekly event. Or a box to check. But church is a living, breathing body. It’s hands that serve, knees that kneel, voices that pray.

“The human body has many parts, but the many parts make up one whole body. So it is with the body of Christ.” (1 Corinthians 12:12)

One body. Many parts.

You may feel like the pinky toe — small but essential. Or maybe you’re the heart, pumping encouragement into weary souls. Either way, you matter. There are no spare parts in God’s family.

When Carl and I found our church home years ago, we didn’t just find a seat. We found brothers and sisters who call us by name. Friends who pray seriously. Leaders who speak rock-solid truth when life gets shaky.

And here’s the beautiful exchange:
First, we give ourselves to the Lord.
Then, by His will, we give ourselves to one another. (2 Corinthians 8:5)

That’s when something powerful happens.
Children find friends.
Marriages find support.
The sick find prayer warriors.
The weary find hope.

Maybe it’s time to stop visiting -- and start belonging.

There’s a seat at the table.
And it has your name on it. 💛

#church #churchfamily #SeatAtTheTable

Maestro, Make My Life a Symphony

Have you ever listened to an orchestra tuning up before the conductor walks out?

Screech. Squeak. Random scales. A cello wandering somewhere near Kansas while the violins are in New York. It sounds like chaos auditioning for a headache.

And then — tap, tap, tap.
The Maestro steps in.

One lift of the baton and the noise becomes music. The same instruments. The same players. The only difference? Someone is leading.

Carl and I recently sat in the Hartfield Performing Arts Center — the very place we met in 2022 while serving elections on opposite sides of the room. (Who knew democracy could lead to holy matrimony?)

We returned to celebrate nearly three years of marriage, listening to precious 6th, 7th, and 8th graders play their hearts out.

In a photo with us is the son of the conductor, our friend, the conductor -- Nathan Ledgerwood. He now plays in his dad’s eighth grade orchestra and in the place where Carl and I met. Oh, sweet remembrances and oh sweet sounds -- once the tuning up is over!

The auditorium was packed. Parents recording. Shoulders squared. Bows poised.

What struck me most wasn’t just the music — it was their eyes. Every student sat tall, eyes fixed on Nathan, the conductor. The moment his baton lifted, posture shifted. Attention sharpened. They didn’t guess when to come in. They watched.

And that’s when it hit me.
My life sounds a lot like orchestra warm-up when I’m conducting it myself.

But when I keep my eyes on my Conductor — everything changes.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart… in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths.” (Proverbs 3:5–6)

He sets the tempo.
He signals the pauses.
He knows when the violins need to soften and when to rise.

Sometimes anxiety blocks my view. Finances. Health. Deadlines. But maybe the problem isn’t the noise — maybe it’s my seat.

Maybe I just need to scoot forward, sit tall, and fix my eyes on Him.
Because when we follow the Maestro, even our unfinished symphony becomes beautiful.

“Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace.”

And when we let Him conduct?
The chaos fades.
Harmony rises.

And our lives become a sweet sound — not only to Him, but to everyone listening.

#orchestra #stringedinstruments #instrumentofpeace

God Still Leads the Way

I first became acquainted with Harriet Tubman when my youngest grandson's school reading was "The Story of Harriet Tubman -- Conductor of the Underground Railroad" written by Kate McMullan.

Harriet couldn’t read or write. Let that sink in.
She wasn’t armed with education, influence, money, or connections. As a young girl, she suffered a brutal head injury from a cruel slave master -- an injury that left her with seizures and sudden blackouts for the rest of her life.

And yet -- God wrote a mighty story with her life.
Harriet escaped slavery, but she didn’t run away and forget the ones left behind. She turned around. Nineteen times. She returned to the South -- where chains still clanked, where hatred still ruled, and where her own life carried a price tag.

She led as many as three hundred people to freedom.
They called her “Moses.” And what a fitting name. Moses had a staff. Harriet had something even stronger. She had prayer.

Harriet carried a Bible and a hymnal on her dangerous journeys. She couldn’t read the words, but she had others read them aloud until she memorized them. Scripture wasn’t ink on a page to her -- it was oxygen to her soul.

“I prayed all the time,” she said. “I was always talking to the Lord.”
Imagine that. A woman hunted like an animal -- walking by faith like a queen.

Her life echoes the apostle Paul’s words:
“Rejoice always, PRAY CONTINUALLY,  give thanks in all circumstances…”
(1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)

Harriet teaches us something the world forgets.  God does not require perfect conditions to do powerful work. He only requires a willing heart.

So if you feel unqualified -- remember Harriet.
If you feel wounded -- remember Harriet.
If you feel afraid -- remember Harriet.

God specializes in using ordinary people with extraordinary dependence on Him.

Harriet didn’t have a literal locomotive guiding her, but she had something even stronger — the Light of God cutting through forests, fear, and uncertainty. That glowing engine almost feels symbolic of what she carried in her spirit -- unwavering direction in the darkest terrain.

Darkness may surround you.....
But Light is coming.
And it’s moving forward.

The same God who led Harriet through the shadows still leads His children today -- one brave step at a time.

So maybe it's time we became a stepper like Harriet -- never giving up until we're taken up! God still leads the way!

#HarrietTubman #undergroundrailroad #courage #nevergiveup

Forty-Six Years in the Making

Not since 1980.
Forty-six long winters. Generations born, raised, and grown who had never seen Team USA men’s hockey strike Olympic gold.

And then — yesterday morning — it happened. Overtime.
1:41 on the clock.
A puck kissed the net and history exploded.

We were in full exultation mode when that final shot hit. The kind of joy that makes you forget you’re sitting in your own living room.

There he stood — Jack Hughes — cracked-tooth smile, blood on his lips, hair soaked with sweat, the American flag draped across his shoulders like a warrior’s cape. Gold medal resting against a chest that had just carried a nation’s hope.

Coach Mike Sullivan said it best: “He brought his very best when the stakes were the highest.”
That’s championship language.

Two brothers. Two game-winners.
Quinn Hughes and Jack Hughes, proud brothers, proud Jewish Americans, and even prouder to represent the USA. 🇺🇸

The “Golden Goal” — 46 years in the making — sealed a 2–1 overtime win over Canada at the Milano Cortina 2026 Winter Olympics.
The first gold since the Miracle on Ice.

And when his brother Quinn Hughes said, “That guy is not nervous, I want to be that guy,” I felt chills.

Because that’s what winners do. They don’t shrink in overtime. They lean in.
Doesn’t that preach?

We serve a God who specializes in overtime victories. Seasons may stretch. Droughts may last decades. But when Heaven steps onto the ice, the score changes.

Romans 8:37 says: “In all these things we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.”

More than conquerors.
Not barely survivors.
Not hopeful participants.
Champions.

The enemy may think he’s skating toward an easy win. But we’re on the winning team. Our Captain has never lost a final.

Forty-six years felt long.
But victory was always coming.

And when that puck hit the net, it felt like more than a goal — it felt like a reminder to us:
Stay in the game.
Trust your Coach.
When overtime comes -- don’t panic.
The win is already written. 🇺🇸🥇

STOP! Don't Drink the Kool-Aid

That phrase may sound a little dated, but the lesson behind it is timeless. It came from one of the most tragic examples of blind followership in history -- people swallowing a lie that cost them everything. And while we shake our heads and say, How could they believe that lie? But, we aren’t always so different.

We sip lies every day.
A scratchy throat whispers, You’re getting seriously sick.
A hard season murmurs, Your life doesn’t matter.
A setback declares, This is as good as it gets.

I know that voice. Condemning. Fear-filled. Always dramatic. Always wrong.
But I know another Voice better. Gentle. Steady. Kind. Truth-telling. The voice of the Lord never rushes me into panic. He leads me into peace.

Some lies come dressed as “facts”:
My child will never come to Jesus.
This marriage is doomed.
I’ll never be whole again.
I’ll never be happy.
Everything is falling apart.

If we agree with those words, we’re drinking the Kool-Aid. And it’s toxic.

By with our God -- we are drinking the truth of His Word and we are in agreement with it!

If He says I’m healed, then healing is already working.
If He says I’m restored, restoration is underway.
If He says He’s not finished, then neither am I.

I’ve lived this truth. My daughter was once diagnosed with cystic fibrosis. As a widow, my future was solo. The enemy wrote a script full of despair — but God rewrote every single chapter.

And let’s be clear -- lies don’t stop at health or hope. They creep into identity. Race. Worth. Gender. Value. But God never mass-produced people. He handcrafted every one of us on purpose.

“For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb… I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” (Psalm 139:13–14)

God’s truth always leads to life, redemption, and purpose. The enemy’s lies lead to fear, weakness, and destruction.

So when an ache shows up, let's speak truth.
When doubt knocks, let's answer with Scripture.
When loss tries to talk loud, let's remind it Who our God is.

“By His stripes we are healed.” (1 Peter 2:24)
“I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10)

So let’s stop sipping lies.
Let’s flip the script.
And let’s drink deeply from truth -- the kind that gives life.

That’s what I believe.
And that’s Who I trust. How about you?

#createdbyGod #speaktruth #dontdrinkthekoolaid

Get Ready for YOUR Comeback

At just 20 years old, Alysa Liu didn’t just skate beautifully -- she staged a comeback for the history books. The first American woman in 24 years to stand atop the Olympic podium. Gold around her neck. Tears in her eyes. Her father, Arthur Liu, celebrating wildly in the stands.

Twenty-four years is a long drought.
But droughts don’t cancel destiny.
That's what stirred my heart. A comeback doesn’t begin on the podium. It begins in the dark. In early mornings. In falls and failures. In moments when the spotlight is nowhere to be found.

Micah 7:8 whispers what the ice declared: "Rejoice not over me, my enemy; when I fall, I shall arise.” -- Micah 7:8

Notice it doesn’t say if I fall. It says when I fall. Truthfully, falling isn't the end of our stories. Stepping back isn’t our calling.
Getting ready for our comeback? That’s faith.

Maybe someone reading this feels like they’ve been in a 24-year winter season. Prayers unanswered. Dreams delayed. Strength stretched thin. But hear this:

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” -- John 1:5

Our God does His best work in dark rinks and dim seasons. He doesn’t panic when we slip. He doesn’t abandon us when the scoreboards look unimpressive.

He says: “For the righteous fall seven times and rise again.” -- Proverbs 24:16

Aw! Rise again. Not limp forward. Not retreat quietly. Rise.

And when we step into God's Light, we don’t just survive -- we stand tall. We stand steady. We stand on the podium He prepared long before we ever laced up our skates.

Because our comeback isn’t powered by applause.
It’s fueled by God's presence.
So don’t take a step back.
Get ready.

Our God who walked us through the valley is the same God Who will call us forward into the spotlight.

And when we stand there -- strong, grateful, unshaken -- heaven will celebrate louder than any Olympic crowd ever could.

So -- let's forget the step-backs. Let's get ready for our comeback.

When we fall -- we rise. When it’s dark -- we step into His Light. Our God is writing a victory better than what we can even see!

#2026WinterOlympics #ComebackStory #GodsPresence

We Love So Much… We Give ❤️🎁

What would a Month of Love be without the usual parade of red hearts, chocolate boxes, balloons, roses, and greeting cards that say, “I love you”?

Sweet as all that is, it can’t hold a candle to the greatest love story ever told.

Because the greatest Lover is not found in a jewelry store.

He is found on a cross.

“For God so loved the world… that He gave His only Son…”

John 3:16

Now that is love. Not Hallmark love. Not “flowers and dinner” love. But sacrifice love. Heaven-gave-its-best love. A love that didn’t just speak -- it acted.

And when I think about that kind of love, I have to ask:

How can we possibly love like that?

What did the Apostle John say about it? “Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God…” 1 John 4:7

When we belong to God, we begin to resemble Him. Like children picking up the expressions of their parents, we start to carry His heart -- especially His compassion.

Compassion is love with its sleeves rolled up.

It’s the gentle tug we feel when someone is hurting. It’s the quiet nudge to call, to help, to give, to show up. And sometimes we can’t even explain it -- we just know we’re supposed to do something.

That’s not random emotion. That’s God’s love flowing through us.

And here’s the beautiful part: love doesn’t always begin with a grand gesture or a dramatic moment. Most of the time, love begins with one simple act of obedience -- one quiet “yes” to the nudge of the Holy Spirit.

At church last Sunday, we were handed a list of food items needed for families who are desperately struggling right now. I didn’t have to pray long about it. All I had to do was open my pantry. And there it was -- shelves lined with more than enough.

It was no sacrifice on our end. No hardship. No big deal.

But to someone else?

It might be dinner.

It might be hope.

It might be the answer to a prayer whispered through tears.

And isn’t that the way God works? He takes what seems ordinary to us and turns it into a lifeline for someone else.

Because when we reach out and touch those precious souls, they don’t just feel the help -- they feel the love behind it. Real love. God’s love.

And the funny thing is, we walk away feeling blessed too -- because when love is given away, it never leaves us empty. It fills us right back up.

Isn’t that just like God?

When we give love away, we never lose it -- we multiply it.

So let’s do it.

Let’s love big. Give freely. Touch lives. Speak kindness.

Because our Father gave to us -- BIG TIME.

And we are simply passing it on.

#welovemuch #wegivebecauseweweregiven #weGiveGodAlltheGlory

So Heavenly Minded, So Much Earthly Good

“So heavenly minded, she’s no earthly good.”
Clever little cliché, isn’t it? I confess… I used to say it.

Years ago, I knew a super-pious Bible college student who fasted, prayed, and studied Scripture all day long. Admirable -- except for one little detail. She hadn’t paid her rent. Or her college fees. She didn’t work. She believed God would provide because she was “devoting herself fully.”

And I judged her.
Not out loud, of course. I’m not that holy. But in my heart, I thought, Bless her -- she’s so heavenly minded she can’t even find her checkbook.

Then God gently corrected me.
Because the truth is -- being heavenly minded is not the problem. The problem is when we confuse spirituality with irresponsibility. Heaven is not an excuse to ignore earth. Heaven is the reason we serve well on earth.

Colossians 3:2 says: “Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth.”

Now think about how we act before a vacation. We count the days. We plan outfits. We make lists. We clean the house. We ask someone to get the mail. We even buy travel-size toothpaste like it’s a sacred ritual.

We prepare -- because we know we’re going somewhere.
So why wouldn’t we prepare for the greatest destination of all?

Heaven isn’t a fantasy for someday. It’s the future home of every believer. And the more we think about heaven, the more we should live with purpose here -- loving deeper, forgiving quicker, giving more, serving better, and holding tighter to what matters.

C.S. Lewis said it well:
“Aim at Heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you will get neither.”

When we live in the light of eternity, our priorities shift. We stop sweating the small stuff -- and we start shining in the important stuff.

So no, I don’t say that phrase anymore.
Instead, I want it said of me:
“She was so heavenly minded -- she did a whole lot of good on earth.”
How about you?

#HeavenlyMinded #aimatheaven #HeavenIsOurHome

Lent Means Course Correction ✈️✝️

Back when I was a private pilot, I learned something quickly: flying isn’t just about getting off the ground. It’s about staying on course.

We had a single-engine Cessna 182 -- a sweet little ride. And I still remember the truth every pilot learns -- wind changes everything. Wind speed and wind direction can quietly push us off track. Sometimes only a few degrees. But over time, those few degrees can land us somewhere we never intended to be.

I learned that the hard way on my first solo cross-country flight. Let’s just say -- I got a little too close to “Timbuktu.” Yikes!

But isn’t that life?

The winds of worry, doubt, fear, temptation, bitterness, and busyness can shift our hearts little by little. We don’t wake up one day far from God -- we drift. We compromise. We get distracted. We get tired. We start living on autopilot.

That’s why Lent matters.

Today, Wednesday, February 18, 2026, the Lenten season begins --the 40-day journey leading up to Easter.

Lent is not about religious performance or trying to impress God. It’s about intentional focus. It’s about stepping away from the noise long enough to hear the heartbeat of Jesus again.

It reflects the 40-days Jesus spent in the wilderness, and it invites us to examine our own hearts. To repent. To reset. To realign.

Lent is course correction. It’s a season to trade “What do I want?” for “Lord, what do You want?”

To exchange distractions for devotion.

To fast from what dulls our spirit and feast on what strengthens our faith.

Maybe for the next 40-days, we pray more. Read the Word slower. Speak kinder. Forgive quicker. Serve quietly. Worship deeper.

Because when we correct our course now, Easter becomes more than a holiday.

It becomes a resurrection—of our hearts.

And that is worth taking seriously.

“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” Psalm 51:10

The Love Test

Valentine’s Day fell on Saturday this year, and we were in Lubbock. I woke up to a sweet surprise -- Carl had left me a beautiful card and a pair of sunflower earrings.

Now, if you know our story, you know sunflowers are special to us. They were the flowers at our wedding. So those earrings weren’t just jewelry -- they were a sweet memory. A reminder. A quiet little whisper that said, “I still choose you.”

Later that day, Carl and I shared coffee with his sister at -- Starbucks -- just the three of us, tucked away in a sweet little area and reminiscing about life and treasuring the goodness God has woven into our days.

And then came entertainment. We spent time with Carl’s brother and family -- first a delicious barbecue lunch (Texas does not play around with brisket), and then we watched our 10-year-old great-niece play basketball.

Oh my goodness -- what a joy!

Those precious kids dribbled like pros -- until they didn’t. They traveled. They lost the ball. They shot with all their might -- some went in the basket and others barely made it halfway to the hoop.

But nobody cared. They were having the time of their lives, and we were cheering like it was the NBA Finals.

By the time we headed back home to Austin, our hearts were full.

And I can’t talk about love in this Month of Love without mentioning the famous wedding scripture:

“Love is patient and kind…” (1 Corinthians 13:4-8)

That chapter is beautiful -- but whew -- it’s also a boatload.

So I tried something brave. I replaced the word love with my name:

“Donna is patient and kind. Donna does not insist on her own way…” Well -- that's a workout and it sure makes me sit up straight! Oh how wish Donna was always patient and kind!

But -- what if we actually lived those words? What if we spoke them before our feet hit the floor every morning? How many marriages would heal? How many friendships would survive? How many homes would be filled with peace?

And then comes the greatest love of all:
“For God so loved the world, that He gave…” (John 3:16)

That’s not romance. That’s rescue. And when we ask God to fill us with His agape love, we can love beyond our human limits.

Lord… love through me.....plllease!

#lovethroughme #loveispatient #sunflowers