Construction Zones of the Heart

 

Carl and I just returned from East Texas after spending a few beautiful days at Epiphany Ranch. But if you’ve driven the highways between Alto and Austin lately, you know something about that trip.

Construction zones. Everywhere.

Every few miles we ran into orange cones, blinking signs, and long lines of cars waiting patiently while road crews waved traffic through one lane at a time. At several points we sat there… engines idling… wondering if we’d ever move again.

Annoying? A little.

Necessary? Absolutely.

Those new roads will make travel smoother and safer. But in the moment, it’s hard to picture the finished product when all you see are cones and delays.

And somewhere between those construction zones, a thought hit me.

My heart looks a lot like that highway.

Piles of insecurities still need hauling away. Detours pop up when my attitude needs adjusting. Sometimes the Lord sets up a few orange cones to keep me from veering into places I shouldn’t go.

Ever feel that way?

“Why am I still struggling with this?”
“Why does this bother me?”
“Why isn’t progress faster?”

The apostle John once wrote to believers who felt the same frustration. He reminded them:

“Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known… but when Christ appears, we shall be like Him.”
(1 John 3:2)

In other words — the work isn’t finished yet.

When we first trust Christ, we are instantly forgiven and welcomed into God’s family. But the process of becoming more like Him takes time. It’s a renovation project of the soul.

Loose translation? Our hearts are under construction.

The good news is we’re not managing the job site alone. God has given us the Holy Spirit as our divine Project Manager.

“Walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.”
(Galatians 5:16)

He directs the work. He moves the cones. He keeps us heading the right way.

So if your life feels like a construction zone right now, don’t lose heart.

Progress is happening.

And one day, when we finally see our Father face to face, the cones will disappear… the road will be smooth… and the project will be complete.

Until then, drive slowly.

God is still working. 🚧💛

When Heaven Whispers

We’re back home in Austin after a few glorious days at Epiphany Ranch in Alto, Texas — 62 acres of lush East Texas beauty. Tall trees. Rolling fields. A sparkling lake. Tiny homes tucked like little jewels across the land. A place where people come for counseling, training, encouragement, and sometimes just to catch their breath.

Carl and I had the joy of helping get things ready for a couples’ retreat. Boots on the ground, hands to the work — the kind of effort that leaves you tired but grateful.

But one of my favorite moments happened on the porch of the lodge during a podcast with my daughter, Staci.

Larry was busy elsewhere, so I slipped into the guest chair. We sat on that porch talking about life, faith, and — of all things — Sago Palms.

They had planned to plant these beautiful palms in large pots around the property. Lovely plants, really. Tropical. Elegant.



But that night Staci couldn’t stop thinking about them. She even woke up in the middle of the night with the thought circling her mind.

Then came that gentle nudge we learn to recognize over time — the quiet voice of the Holy Spirit. Sago Palms are highly toxic to humans and animals.

And suddenly the picture changed. Those spiky palms would grow right at the height of little children playing nearby.

Beautiful plant? Yes.
Good idea? No.
So the plan came to a screeching halt!

The Holy Spirit had whispered wisdom.

Later Staci asked me, “Mom, what do you think about that?”

My answer came quickly: “Goodness gracious — I don’t want my future great-grandbabies running into a plant that could hurt them!”

Sometimes God speaks through thunder. But most of the time He speaks through whispers.

“Seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” (Matthew 7:7)

That’s the way I try to write each day — listening for heaven’s download. A story. A lesson. A moment God might use to encourage someone taking their next step.

If we slow down…
If we listen…
If we surrender…

God will guide us — even about something as simple as a plant on a porch.

And I’ve learned something very important.

When Heaven whispers -- it's always worth listening. 💛

Just a Little Tweak to Welcome Spring

March 20th, is the official first day of Spring, BUT.......

Tonight before we crawl into bed, let's remember the simple tradition that comes every spring — moving our clocks forward one hour.

Yes, we may lose an hour of sleep (I know… I felt that groan too), but we gain longer days, brighter evenings, and a wonderful reminder that God loves fresh beginnings.I

AND, we’re reminded that God is always moving us toward new seasons and fresh light.

Just like that — time jumps ahead. One small turn of the dial and suddenly tomorrow arrives sooner than expected.

“Spring Forward.”

It’s funny how one tiny adjustment can change the rhythm of the whole day.

But maybe that’s not such a bad idea for our hearts too.

God is always inviting us into new seasons. Fresh starts. Brighter mornings. Longer days filled with His light.

“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19)

Spring has a way of whispering hope. Trees bud again. Fields stretch awake. The earth reminds us that God specializes in fresh beginnings.

And right now, as we journey toward Easter, we’re walking closer to the greatest “spring forward” in history.

Jesus moving toward the cross.
Love moving toward sacrifice.
Death moving toward resurrection.

What looked like the darkest Friday the world had ever known turned into the brightest Sunday imaginable.

That’s the way God works. Winter never gets the last word.

So tonight when you move your clock forward, think about the quiet invitation behind it.

Maybe it’s time to spring forward in forgiveness.
Spring forward in faith.
Spring forward in that prayer we’ve been meaning to pray.
Spring forward in our walk with Christ.

A new season is waiting.
New reasons to hope.
New friendships to treasure.
New mercies to discover.

“His mercies are new every morning.” (Lamentations 3:23)

Yes, we may lose an hour of sleep.
But we gain something better — a little more light.

And if you ask me, light has always been God’s favorite way of saying, "I’m not finished yet."

So let's set our clocks tonight.
And let our hearts spring forward too.

I love you all -- my dear faith-filled, joy-filled and peace-filled friend. Happy Spring!

God’s Goodness in Big Sky Country

We’re still here at Epiphany Ranch — 62 acres of big Texas skies and what feels like a little slice of heaven.

And heaven, I’m learning, isn’t always quiet. Sometimes it sounds like hammers tapping, laughter echoing across the porch, and someone asking, “Where do these screws go?”

The newlyweds — Alexia and Winston, fresh from Nashville — along with Carl and me, are here helping Larry and Staci prepare for several couples arriving from near and far this weekend.

Each couple will settle into one of four tiny homes scattered around the ranch. Small spaces, big comfort. Places designed for respite, encouragement, and power-packed teaching.

Meanwhile, inside the newly finished Peace Cabin, there’s a whole lot of joyful chaos.

Staci, Alexia, and I have been working like a cheerful decorating brigade. Curtains up. Cabinets filled. Furniture assembled. Alexia tackled the new sofa and nightstands like a seasoned professional while we transformed the cabin into what feels like a cozy French cottage.

Who knew sanctification sometimes includes hammers, screws, curtain rods, and a furniture assembly?

The guys were finishing the well house while Carl — my ever-patient chauffeur and unofficial ranch overseer — keeps an eye on it all. New roads. Fresh concrete drives. Newly planted trees stretching toward the Texas sky.

It feels like watching faith take root.

“The righteous will flourish like a palm tree -- planted in the house of the Lord.” (Psalm 92:12–13)

That’s what Epiphany Ranch feels like — planting and flourishing.

What was once simply trees, land, a lake, and big Texas skies is now a haven called Joy, Love, Peace, and Miracle Mountain — the names of the cozy homes built here. Carl and I are staying in Miracle Mountain, the very first one built, and the peace here truly lives up to its name.

Sometimes God’s goodness looks like miracles.

Sometimes it looks like family gathered around a table, hands working side by side, hearts grateful for the chance to serve.

“We love because He first loved us.” (1 John 4:19)

And here under these big, wide Texas skies, that’s exactly what we’re doing — loving, serving, building, and celebrating God's goodness together.

Oh, the joy of loving -- shoulder to shoulder -- while celebrating God's creation that comes with His peace, joy and love for Him and each other!

#epiphanyranch #cabins #family #shouldertoshoulder

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