The Lines Upon My Face

I used to fight aging. Okay, I will always fight the signs of aging.

I look in the mirror and wonder where the young woman I once knew went.

I buy cremes and potions and examine the skin under my eyes ... I've considered buying crepe erase. (Ladies, don't you absolutely HATE the word crepe????)

Here lately, I've been rethinking this whole "getting old" thing. And I am beginning to embrace the positives of being fifty-something.

A few weeks ago, as one of my granddaughters played at the kitchen counter with her teapot, my daughter-in-law and soon to be daughter-in-law looked on with trepidation.

As water flowed freely over the sides of the small teacups, I tasted Lilley K's tea and told her it was delicious. I handed her a few paper towels to sop up the extra "tea."

The girls wondered why the "tea" mess didn't bother me.

Here's a positive of where I am today--I've lived through the real stuff that spills over the edges of my heart ... the messes that can't be cleaned up with a paper towel. With God's grace, I survived and gained a few lines on my face.

There are years of happiness carefully stored in my memory. I take them out from time to time and page through them. They are like vitamins for my soul. Special moments with Tommy, the joy of our babies, the pride in military graduations, peace that comes from seeing our kids grow into wonderful and kind adults, and the crown of grandchildren. Counting and recounting God's faithfulness in plenty and in need ... these are some of the lines upon my face.

Through weight gain and weight loss, grey hair and red hair (and lots of colors in between), the uncertainty of the future and the certainty of God's hand at work, and all that I have learned and have yet to learn ... well, these are the lines upon my face.

So, whether they are laugh lines or crows feet or worry lines etched across my forehead as I give my heartaches to God again and again ... whether they appear overnight or I watch them slowly grow over time ... they are beautiful. Beautiful because they tell a story only God and I know.

These lines. I hope I live long enough to multiply them. I hope most are marks of laughter and smiles.

Even so, my vanity will try to slow them down. So if you'll excuse me, it's time to wash off this mud mask. Surely there's a thirty-something face underneath it ...

And Then There Were Two!

Often times, dreams take the long road. 

We experience life while on the long road. Trials and joys, failures and successes.

People walk out of our lives and true friendships grow stronger.

Life.

And the long road.

God is present on the long road.

He teaches his child valuable lessons along the way.

Perseverance.

Loyalty.

Perspective.

Patience.

Hope.

Endurance.

The long road, with its bumps and turns and unexpected delays, is a daily reminder of God;'s faithfulness.

September, 2018. 

Book two.

Dream fulfilled.

Thank you, Jesus!

Battles Buddies, book 2 in The Crumberry Chronicles, is here! 

God is the giver of dreams. And God is the one who makes them reality!

Middle School, Friends, and Locker Woes

Many things change.

Many stay the same.

Middle school kids, especially those in 6th grade, still sweat over remembering where their classes are and one searing question keeps them awake at night:

"Will I be able to open my locker?"

Can you remember the worries you had the night before the first day of middle school (or Junior High, depending on your age)? 

Will I fit in?

Who will I eat with at lunch?

Will I have any friends in my classes?

Are my clothes good enough?

Emotions can get a guy in trouble in middle school ... if he can't control himself when he's angry ...

  Jase couldn’t see or hear clearly. The kids in the hall were a blur of faces and backpacks. None of the voices were familiar. They were just a mix of sounds that didn’t matter. He didn’t recognize anyone, and he didn’t care. Rounding the corner, he ran smack into Ashley.

  "Watch where you’re going, Ashley! Get out of my way!” 

  She stared, wide-eyed at the boy that looked like Jase Freeman but certainly didn’t act like him.

  Without apology, he stepped around her.

  All of these stupid kids. They think life is hard. They have no clue.

  He pushed his way into class. He grabbed his chair and slung it away from the desk. He sat but not still. He wanted to crawl out of his own skin. He felt his heart beating behind his eyes—boom, boom-boom, boom, boom-boom!

   Jase Freeman, from The Wish I Wished Last Night, has another story worth your time. Battle Buddies, book 2 in The Crumberry Chronicles series, will release September 4th. 

I think you should read both books before giving them to your kids to read. You should always know what your kids are putting into their impressionable brains. Words, spoken, sung, and written are powerful.

Jase Freeman knows what trouble comes around when a middle school kid doesn't control his anger.

Wouldn't you like to find out, too?

The Wish I Wished Last Night, available now. Look for Battle Buddies September 4th, 2018! 

Home is in My Heart

The kitchen was very much the same.

Her chair remained in its place, cozy blanket draped over the back.

Her purse sat in a corner. Her personal favorite style shoes--slip on flats--were nearby.

And it felt like she would come walking down the hall at any moment and tell us to get out of her kitchen.

If you've experienced this kind of empty familiarity, you understand the adjustment that follows. The one that steals your breath and burns your throat. The one that makes you want to scream but instead you close your eyes in silence. You don't want to cry, yet you wish you could cry it all out and be done.

Once I adjusted, her kitchen felt like an old friend.

I touched the things she loved, the stuff of life that we surround ourselves with. Pictures, books, earrings, nail polish, and a hymnal. I scratched her fur-baby,  "Molly, Molly," behind the ears and told her I knew it was hard.

Those of us who gathered there talked and laughed and worked.

And we accepted the fact that she would not ever walk down the hall again.

And as we reminisced, we reminded each other of her perfect existence with Jesus. The Hope of all who believe.

All the scriptures she read and the questions she asked about heaven are no longer mysteries. And if she could, she would not choose to walk this broken earth again.

She would say, "I'll see you when you get here!"

To all who loved her and all who never had the gift in life to know her--

I hope you know HIM. Jesus the Christ, the Savior of the world. The One who said "Let not your heart be troubled. You believe in God, believe also in Me..."

Believe and know, God is real.

People are born. People live. And people die.

And God made a way for us to know perfect peace and joy even as we long to be with those we love.

There is no longer an earthy home to "go home" to. That's okay. Buried in my heart are the memories of fudge and crocheted slippers, laughter and Judge Judy, bird feeders and fairy gardens.

Home is in my heart.

Thank you, Jesus, for saving my soul!

Generation After Generation

I remember Joey. Cutest four-year-old little boy I had ever met. Curly locks and heart-melting smile.

Someone trusted my friend and me to teach Vacation Bible School.

We were young teens.

We loved Jesus.

We loved children.

And we taught them.


I remember being third trimester pregnant, twice, teaching 5th and 6th graders Vacation Bible School. I had cankles … and you know what cankles are …

I remember the first time I stood back and watched a couple of teens teaching Vacation Bible School … teens I had the privilege of  leading as children … teens our church family poured into and trusted to serve.

What joy it is to see Bible teaching come full circle!

I remember my children enjoying Vacation Bible School as attenders and growing up within  the church family to lead others.

And as I look around my disaster of an office, I am overwhelmed with gratitude that the Lord God would allow me and others the honor and privilege of being a part of this amazing ministry called Vacation Bible School.

God works through this ministry because it belongs to Him.

He works and touches generation after generation.

Lives change.

Friendships begin.

The heart of servanthood bursts into full bloom.

God has put together an amazing team for our VBS next week. Won't you please pray for us? Pray for God's presence and will and pleasure.

I think of Joey and wonder … perhaps he's somewhere teaching 4-year-old children about God's love. Or maybe preteens … or teens …

Teaching children makes a difference.

And my prayer is that God will light a fire in the hearts of His people to choose to teach children.

Because lives change.

The Right is Not the Enemy and Neither is the Left

I know there are others out there who are super-tired of what we hear and read when we try to get caught up on the news.

It's frustrating.

Here's my personal opinion on it all.

When it comes down to what matters most, all the bickering doesn't matter.

The Right is not the Enemy.

The Left is not the Enemy.

And the Enemy doesn't care if we are prolife or prochoice.

The Enemy doesn't care if we are #MAGA or #Impeach45.

The Enemy has no horse in the race of liberal or conservative.

You know what? The Enemy doesn't really care whether you go to church or the barroom. You can stay home and become the next episode of Hoarders or travel the world, for all the Enemy cares.

And we can fight or make peace and it won't matter an ounce to the Enemy.

As long as we are not asking Jesus to be Lord of our lives or telling others about the gift of eternal life … the Enemy is quite content to be a spectator of our destruction.

For me, it comes down to the fact the Enemy doesn't care if we feed the children or save the children or shoe the children as long as we don't TELL the children …

And for me, I take the Great Commission personally and apply it to the next generation.

And you should know how I pray. I do pray for  my country. I love America. And I pray for the children. And I pray for families and churches and my president and friends who are hurting.

My prayer is for you. That first you will know God's redeeming love. And once you do, my prayer is you will TELL the children. Teach the children. Befriend the children. Be a mentor to the children.

Don't wait until you feel ready or knowledgeable enough or your life settles down enough …

Don't give the Enemy credit for all that's wrong with America and the rest of the world.

Do something the Enemy hates. TELL the children and make a difference.

#Childrensministries #VacationBibleSchool

Do it.

SIT DOWN AND BE QUIET

   Having never been in trouble in his school career, Jase had no clue what in-school suspension meant.

   The office assistant smiled her way-too-cheerful smile and asked him to follow her. She took him to room 122. It was full of old desks, stacks of resource books, and a box of newspapers. A broom was propped in a corner. The windows had streaky brown paint on them, lest any sun sneak in and cheer the room. SIT DOWN AND BE QUIET was printed on the whiteboard.

   Jase rubbed his nose hoping to delete the musty odor emanating from the stacks of books.

   Three kids sat among the books. Their eyes were dull and sunken, at least that’s what Jase thought. He wondered how long they had been here. He imagined they were healthy looking kids long ago, before their banishment to in-school suspension. 

   “Have a nice day,” insisted Joy as she turned to go back to her sun-filled office.

   The adult in the room was enormous. He stood in the back, beefy hands on mammoth hips. His immensely round cheeks pushed his eyes upward, into his protruding brow. He sneered at Jase, showing his larger than huge teeth.

   “Boy! Sit!”

   Jase sat.

   “Don’t just sit there, boy! Get out a book and get busy.”

   It was at this moment Jase decided he would never tell a teacher “no” ever again. Not ever again. He watched the clock and counted down the time to lunch. He never thought he would look forward to the cafeteria, but a morning spent in gloom with Mr. Doom was enough to make mystery meat taste like steak.

Excerpt from Battles Buddies, book 2 in The Chronicles of Crumberry. Coming soon!

Follow Jase Freeman, from The Wish I Wished Last Night (Elk Lake Publishing), just a kid trying to figure it all out and stay out of trouble at the same time. Can that even be done?

Special thank you to all my reader friends who have enjoyed this project and have shared it with others! God bless!

Where Birthdays Are No More

June 22.

Mom's birthday. The one she wanted to live to see.

She tried. She really tried. What an amazing woman she was.

For those of us left behind, this day is strange.

Relief that she is no longer hurting, no longer striving, no longer trying.

Sorrow because we long to be near her.

Gratitude for what she gave us.

As one of my sisters said, the world is "off" now. Not right. Different. Nothing matters and yet everything matters very much.

As my brother and I discussed--our mother's love continues through us. Each time we love on a little one--oh, how she loved babies. Each time we bake something she was known for or sing a song or plant or pick a flower. Even in our anger, her love lives on.

She will never be 75. And what an amazing blessing that is, because now she lives outside of time. We mark our days by birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, promotions, celebrations …

But the celebration in heaven isn't marked by time. An eternal celebration of the Blood of The Lamb is going strong. The eternal celebration of life in paradise without end. The eternal celebration of the love of God.

My mom praised Jesus for giving her strength. In her last days, when words were few, she praised Him for strength. What an amazing remembrance. He is the Giver of all strength.

I think on that often.

Are you longing for someone?

It's okay to cry, but don't cry too long. Instead, try to imagine the celebration. Try to imagine eternity outside of time.

I gave all I understood of myself to all I understood of God when I was young. My dad told me of his prayer asking Jesus into his heart at the age of 18. I don't know how old my mom was when she invited Jesus into her heart. I hope you have done so as well.

When I step outside of time and into forever, I'll thank Jesus for saving my soul. I'll find my dad. He's been gone ten years.  And I'll find my mom. And we will recognize each other.

And we will celebrate Jesus forever and ever and ever and ever …

And birthdays will be no more.

Wishing for Rules

Monopoly.

Buy more property and houses than the other players and you win.

Baseball.

Hold your opponent's team to a score lower than your team's score and, you win.

Cookies.

Bake in a 375 oven for ten minutes and you'll have the perfect bite of soft-cookie-goodness.

Driving.

Maintain the speed limit on your next trip, and you won't get a speeding ticket.

I've stumbled into something that has no rules. And, while everyone will experience this sooner or later, there is no one to tell me to "place tab A into slot B" and everything will fall into place.

Wading through grief that changed the world is like walking in familiar surroundings while covered in a dense fog.

Anger. Despair. Joy. Peace. Hope. They all live in the fog.

I keep looking for some sort of timepiece, something that will announce a date and time the fog will lift.

While searching for a way out, I've stumbled over something amazing.

Truth.

Truth in the form of kept promises. Promises such as:

"I will be with you wherever you go."

"The Lord is my rock and my shelter."

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart … "

"He is faithful to complete that which he started."

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

I'm not alone in the fog. Whether an emotion catches me off guard or I feel it coming, I am not alone. God has kept His promise to be near and to provide. All I have to do is trust Him on purpose.

I trust Him. On purpose.

If I Could Speak Freely ...

There's a shift in ministry at the local church.

Not just my church.

Churches across the country.

People, especially young Dad's and Mom's, are very interested in reaching out to our communities.

This is a wonderful thing. Impacting people where they are. Reaching them with the Gospel of Christ.

If I could speak freely.

I'd say …

Please don't forget us.

As you build ramps, distribute food, mow lawns, and offer a cool drink of water … please don't forget us.

Us.

The people who faithfully teach the children and students every time people gather in the building.

We are a band of volunteers who give of our time and our hearts to reach the children and youth.

And as the church is going out into the communities--which is a very good and biblical thing--we are in a sort of crises inside the walls.

Those of us who have the calling of equipping, mentoring, and praying for the volunteers who teach, are struggling.

We are longing and praying for God to place a burning deep in the hearts of His people. A burning to make a difference. We ask God to send us people who love kids and students. We, at times, beg God for leadership that is sold out. No drop in, drop out.

We recognize the power of God through relationships built between leaders and learners.

If you attend my church, know that I am praying for YOU. I am praying you will set fear aside and trust God to do what only God can do.

If you attend another church, know that I am praying for YOU. I am praying you will set fear aside and trust God to do what only God can do.

Your children's pastors (ministry directors) and student ministers need you. We need a team of people who recognize the value of reaching and teaching within the church walls.

The children and students need you.

Yes, go out into the communities and show them Jesus. And when you come to worship or your small group study … you can know … there are young people in the building who need to see Jesus too.

We have a lot of kingdom work to do. Let's do this together, for the glory of God and the good of the people.

Dear God

Dear God,

Rain hangs in the air. It isn't here yet, but it is so close I can smell it.

Rain.

Rain reminds me of being a child. Playing outside, feeling the breeze become wind, watching the gray clouds approaching.

Rain.

Even before I knew You, I knew You were there. The rain. It announced Your existence.  It still shouts Your name.

Momma would let us play in the rain if it wasn't storming. When lightening warned and thunder rolled, she called us in. We could play near the screen door. The brisk wind drove tiny droplets of water in and misted us.

Just as I listened to my momma's warning about the coming storm, I want to listen to You. I'm so sorry--I often run ahead of You. Sometimes I lag behind. When I don't like what's going on in life, I stand still.

God? These past few weeks … I know I've been standing still. Even as You bless me more than I could ever deserve. I have stood still.

My desire is to be in step with You. Every step of every day.

Wrap me in Your love. Take my heart and fill it up with You. Fill me up with so much You there is no room for self.

Rain.

It's nature's comfort food. And I love it. I enjoy the childlike wonder it brings.

I love that is reminds me of my momma.

I love that it shouts Your name.

Blessings and More Blessings

The assaulting sound of a blaring alarm broke through the quiet. She awoke with a jerk but remained still. She looked around at the comforts surrounding her. Ruffled curtains that matched the bedspread, a warm robe to softly wrap herself up in, and the perfume in the air of fresh coffee as her automatic maker was set to begin brewing just minutes before the alarm sounded. 

   The kids were already awake, settled in front of the television. "Turn it down! And move back, you're way too close to the TV. You're going to ruin your eyes, ya know!"

   She stopped at the large window at the breakfast nook and gazed out at the artistry of spring. Bright yellow daffodils lined the drive, the grass was a brilliant green, and the sound of birds announcing God's glory seemed to take up every inch of sunshine.

   Gazing at her home -- her perfect, southern-living home-- filled her mind with countless reasons to say thank you. God had been so good. Having been loved as a little girl should be loved carved a trail in her heart. She knew how to love. Looking over her shoulder at the kids intently watching cartoons, she felt rich, so very rich.

    Today would be filled with video games and hair bows, dandelion chains and driveway basketball. The sound of little hands touching black and white keys will fill the house with the elementary sounds of workbook three.

   She reached for her favorite coffee cup, delicately adorned by pansies and miniature roses. The sight of her hand startled her. She placed the cup near the coffee pot and touched her wedding band. She closed her eyes and turned the band around and around.

Oh give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, for His steadfast love endures forever! Psalm 107:1

The Hands of Home

          The wind was brisk as she hurried to the shed. Her boots crunched in the snow and her toes screamed in protest to the missing lining. She wrapped her thin scarf around her face, covering her nose. Maybe this would keep the sub-zero temperature from burning in her throat and nostrils. 
          

          Rushing around the corner, the shed shielded her from the angry gust that seemed to utter "not to worry, I will be here when you return!"

       
          She grasped the handle and pulled as if her life depended on getting that old door to relent. Perhaps her life did depend on it. Hers and her sweet, young children waiting in the rented house a few yards away. They would wake soon.
          
          She stood still for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the darkness. The shed smelled of old grass and gasoline. It smelled like love to her. She inhaled and sensed the arms of her daddy holding her close.
         
          The wind whistled her back to reality. She reached down and began piling wood in her outstretched arm. Soon she would have a happy, cozy fire singing as it snapped and danced a show of white, yellow, and orange flames. Just the thought warmed her soul.
       
          She took one more deep breath of comfort before heading toward the house. Glancing east she was overwhelmed by the wonder of the sun, peaking up over the horizon like a gigantic, beautifully shy flower. Only God could create such splendor in the dead of winter.
       
          The light above the door beckoned her to hurry, promising the refuge of home. She knew it was borrowed along with almost everything inside. Yet it was truly home. The screen door softly whispered the message of spring, assuring one day fragrant breezes would blow through its tiny, square windows.
   
            Moments later a fire sent its invisible arms rolling outward like an octopus reaching for company. She poured oatmeal into boiling water. Soon her children would be warmed inside and out.
   
           She heard the shuffling of little slippered feet moving down the hall. She turned to see sweet faces wrapped in hair askew, little pink cheeks wearing good morning smiles  and eyes that sparkled with the happiness of a new day. 
            
          "Good morning, Sunshine!" Momma smiled.
         
           This is home. Little ones gathered, snuggled up to the fire and bathed in its warmth while the aroma of oatmeal, cinnamon, and coffee filled the air. Home is right here, wrapped in a blanket framed in tattered satin trim.
       
           "It's shivery," squeaked the younger.
     
           "Is shivery a word?" asked the older as she held mommas hand and played with her ring, turning it around and around.
   
            Momma's voice laughed, "Yes, shivery is a word."
 
            "Well, your hands are warmery!" giggled the older, "and they are the prettiest hands ever in the whole wide world!" Using her own chubby little hand, she traced mommas fingers, "Someday, I hope my hands look just like yours!"
   
             With growling tummies the girls reached for their bowls, now full of steaming hot home. 

    

             Today will be filled with Golden books, homemade paste, a shared pair of scissors and catalogues that have arrived in the mail. There will be songs of the Muffin Man and tea pots followed by games of pat-a- cake and eye spy.

     

         This is the beginning of a story of fiction, sprinkled with truth from my childhood. And I am happy to say, there are many days my hands look just like hers.

Above all, put on love--the perfect bond of unity. Colossians 3:14

America

I voted yesterday.

And as I found my parking spot, I drove past lots and lots of people holding signs and waving.

America.

I walked right in. Showed my ID and signed my name.

America.

I voted.

America.

No one tried to stop me.

America.

No one threatened me.

America.

I drove away and gave thumbs up to 2 young people. They held signs and waved.

America.

Some I voted for won, some did not.

But I voted and I'm glad.

I live in a free country. Lives were lost and lives changed forever to give me the right to cast my vote.

America.

Will the people who won keep their promises? I don't know.

Will anything change because I voted? I don't know.

But I voted.

And I will again.

And I will praise God for America.

America.

Coffee Break (Simply for your entertainment)

“ … and there I was, listening to his advice. Advice I never asked to hear. I haven’t appreciated Stuart’s opinion since I was four years old. In fact, he gets on my last nerve. I mean, seriously? He’s going to tell me how to repair the barn door? Why, he sits all day at a computer. And it’s a good thing, too. He’s just not too bright.”

She blinked her eyes and forced them to focus. How many conversations begin this way? Uh, yeah. Every. Single. One.

“I don’t know, Paul,” Sarah’s voice was warm and sweet. “Maybe he googles all day or watches YouTube tutorials.”

“Then there’s yesterday. He called to tell me I’m not using the right kind of grain for the chickens. When I told him there ain’t no better than what I use, he had the gall to correct me. He knows me well enough to know I said it that way on purpose.”

She nodded in an I-totally-agree-with-you sort of way.

“I told him if he would just come out to the ranch, I’d be happy to show him why I’ve got this under control. I know this place like the back of my hand. I told him I’d be happy to teach him all I know about what it takes to succeed as a cowhand or pig farmer or growing the best crop of wheat. Do you know what he said?”

“I can only gue …”

“I’ll tell you what he said. He said he knows what to do. He said I don’t need to explain a thing to him. You know what? I think he would have told God how to create the universe. I’m sure he would have had a better way.”

He paced and pushed his hand through his hair, tugging on it as if he could pull the frustration right out of his head.

“I’ve done all I can, Sarah. I even invited him to the house for supper. Told him I’d cook up steak—medium rare. Just the way he likes it. No one can grill a steak better than I can. He said he would pass on that unless I’d let him come over early and assist in the grilling. Assist. Yeah, right. We know what that means.”

 She sat down and paged through a magazine as he spoke. He didn’t seem to notice.

“That means he will tell me how it’s done. Last time he came over, he started up the tractor. I asked him, I said, ‘What are you doing?’ He told me he just wanted to listen to the engine. Wanted to be sure it’s running right.”

She sipped her coffee. It had grown cold, so she stepped into the kitchen to heat it up. “Want some coffee while I’m pouring?”

“I told him to get off that tractor. I told him I’ve been working on tractors since I was ten years old while he sat under a tree with one of his books.”

She noticed fresh cake on the counter and sliced a sliver off. Listening made her hungry … or bored. Cake was good for either one.

“I think next time he comes over here I’m going to let him know he isn’t king of the hill. I have done all I can to help him. From the moment we started kindergarten, he’s always had to have the last word. Do you have any idea how maddening that is?”

“Well, maybe …”

“I have noticed he’s that way on the phone, too. I called him the other day to let him know I stopped by the local farmer’s market and noticed they had mislabeled their produce. That manager tried to tell me the difference between beefsteak tomatoes and creole. I shut him down fast. Told him I’ve been growing tomatoes since I was knee high to a grasshopper. That manager just turned and walked away. But guess who knows more about tomatoes than I?”

Sarah scooted til her back rested against the couch cushion. Her feet dangled, so she crossed her ankles and tried to appear comfortable. She tilted her head to one side and set her gaze on Paul. She was great at the appearance of listening while going through a mental checklist of things to do.

“I ended the phone call by telling him thank you but no thank you. I didn’t need to hear which tomato is more acidic. Did I tell you I ran into him at the co-op store last week?”

“Actually, you said …”

“I was there to pick up dogfood. They have the best price in town, have I told you that already? Anyhow, he was standing there looking at coveralls. I tried to slip past him but he saw me. He called me over and proceeded to show me the double stitching. He tried telling me which coverall brand is superior. I told him I happen to know the guy whose great-great-great-grandfather came up with the idea of coveralls in the first place. I asked if he knew where the first pair of coveralls was made. Do you know where the first pair was made?”

Sarah resituated herself on the couch.

“Texas, of course. I thought everybody knew that. He tried to tell me it was Colorado. Whatever. Colorado.” He laughed at the very idea.

He paused. She raised one eyebrow, looked up at him, and waited.

He stepped to the window and eyed the dogs chasing each other across the field.

“Sometimes I wonder what dogs are thinking when they’re running around like that.”

“Where’s that bone?”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Dog’s never forget where they bury a bone. It’s in their DNA.”

He placed his cowboy hat squarely in place, rubbed his chin and turned to look at her.

“Oh, something else about my trip to the co-op. I took a quick look at the winter seed catalogue. Mr. Johnson was at the counter. You remember him?”

“He must be 90 years old by now!”

“Yeah, that’s him. He was looking at the seed catalogues too. I told him what I know to be the best buys.”

“But, Paul, Mr. Johnson has been farming longer than you’ve been alive.”

“I know it, quite the shame that he needed me to tell him what to plant. You know, if Stuart had been there I’m sure he would have argued with me. As sure as the day is long, he would have argued.”

Sarah returned to her magazine article, Choosing the Best Apples for Your Pie.

“What are you reading, there?” He looked over her shoulder. “Oh, I read that article. I don’t know who the author is, but she clearly has never made an apple pie. She says buy Granny Smith. Nope. Incorrect. Everyone knows its Fuji. Be careful what you read, there, sis.”

She closed the magazine and thought about another slice of cake. She looked down at her thighs and decided to skip it.

  “Back to Stuart. He’s coming by tomorrow to pick up his shovel. Do you know where the first shovel was used?”

She didn’t bother to answer. Instead, she drank the last of her now lukewarm coffee and shuddered at the bitter sip.

“It isn’t written down anywhere, but the first shovel was an invention of cavemen.”

“And you know this … how?”

He shook his head in disgust. “Are you really my sister or did Mom bring the wrong baby home?”

She pursed her lips then clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. She learned these tricks long ago. It bought her time to find the self-control to keep quiet. It never did any good to argue with either of the boys. She was the baby sister, after all.

To her relief, his cell phone rang.

“Hello? No, no, I don’t think so. That can’t be right.”

She bit the corner of her lip and wondered who the caller might be.

“Statistics show most Americans are severely lacking vitamin D, not B. That’s because they spend so much time indoors. Not me. I get plenty of sun and fresh air. You’ll have to check your facts on that. Have a good day and hey, take a walk outside before you make your next sales call. Good luck.”

“Sales call?”

“Yeah. A rep from Healthy Harvest supplement company. He tried to tell me I need more vitamin B. Even if I did, Healthy Harvest isn’t the premier place to buy it. No, I happen to know Mother Earth has the purest vitamins. Well, unless you’re talking therapeutic oils. That’s another story. I diffuse only the best, Super Pure Oils for Life. I know my oils.”

“I’m sure.”

“What’s that?”

“I said I’m sure.”

“That sounds a bit condescending, don’t you think?”

She sat her coffee cup on the end table and gave her brother a half hug.

“Paul, you know me better than that. I’ll see ya later.”

He followed her to her car. “Do want to take any eggs with you? Not to brag or anything, but I’ve got plenty and they are even better than Egglands Best!”

Her back was to him, so she rolled her eyes. “No, thanks. I’ll pass.”

“They are better for your brain than any other egg. Rich in omega 3’s and healthy protein. You know, some doctors say eating egg yolks will raise your cholesterol, but that’s just not true. Especially if you choose whole grain toast to go along with your eggs … well, not just any eggs. My eggs.”

She rested her hand on the car door. “Thank you, Paul, but no thanks. I’ve plenty of eggs from when I stopped by a few days ago.”

“Sounds to me like you’re not eating enough. You need at least 1,200 calories a day. Be sure you’re getting your protein.”

“I’ll head home and make an egg sandwich on rye as soon as I get there.”

“You be careful now. Your car is in need of a tune up. I could hear it when you drove up. And these tires … looking a bit low on air.”

Sarah buckled up and waved farewell.

He watched her car maneuver the long, gravel driveway. He remembered the day he had the rock delivered. He sure was glad he was there to tell the driver the best way to unload his order. Had he been late, he was sure his driveway would have been ruined.

The dogs ran up with tails wagging. Each stood waiting his turn for an ear scratching. They sat and looked at him with adoration and loyalty.

“Pay attention, boys. I expect Sheriff Crum might come by later this afternoon. I saw him yesterday at the Donut Hut. After I bought him the best donut flavor in the house, I told him to be careful out there on the road. I told him the latest string of burglaries were taking place on the west side of town. He sure was glad I let him in on the info, he just looked at me and grinned. I guess I left him speechless.”

His thought’s took him back to the beginning of his conversation with Sarah.

I don’t know what I’ll do the next time Stu tries to tell me the right time of year to plant zucchini or how many hours of sleep I need each night.

Seriously, who does he think he is? I’ve spent time with him in hopes of helping him understand the inner workings of running a farm. Offered to take him under my wing. He doesn’t think there’s anything to learn.

I called him the last time I picked the perfect watermelon so I could tell him how it’s done. He had the nerve to tell me to check the color of the bottom of the melon. Crazy. I knocked until I found a hollow sounding melon. That’s how it’s done.

He walked to the barn to begin the roof repair.

Seriously though, I hate it when people think they know it all.

Seasons of Life

Last week my siblings and I joined a group of people no one connects with joyfully.

We said "see you later" to our mom.

Now we find ourselves without the glue that held the family together, or so it feels.

We are blessed to have so many friends reach out with prayer and words of encouragement. Friends, who know the feeling whether one month or twenty years past, shed tears with us.

Even as I already forget she's no longer here and begin to push "Momma" on my cell, I am drawn to remember her in a way that pushes me forward. She wouldn't want me to stall out now.

 I remember:

Her beautiful hands and pretty painted nails.
Her garden and flower beds that grew whatever she chose to plant.
What remained of her left pinky finger from an accident as a child.
Her laughter.
Her stubborn will that never quit.
The meals she cooked with love, sometimes making something out of almost nothing.
The way she disliked having someone care for her because she was always the one taking care.
Her beautiful handwriting.
Molly, her furbaby.
Her gratitude.
Her love.
Her pride in her kids, grandkids, and great grandkids.

And her love for Jesus. Even when she didn't understand or like what was going on in life, she trusted God and wasn't afraid to say it.

I'll admit, I hate this season of life. I want to dig my heals in and say, "I'm not gonna do it!"

But this season comes to all of us. So, I suppose I will have my moments when I am reduced to a puddle, and then I will get up and do the day.

I will choose to let my granddaughter paint my nails.
I will laugh at silly things and cook memorable meals for my family.
I will draw on the "never quit" DNA.

And I will love my Jesus.

When You Face a Bully

Her  normally pink cheeks were colorless. She was biting her bottom lip.

"Stop it, Haley. He's not gonna kill me. He'll probably just black my eyes or knock out my teeth ... or paralyze me or something."

"That's not funny. Don't go. You'll end up in trouble. He's just a jerk, and it's not worth it."

"If I don't go this will never end. And besides, I don't want people sayin' I'm chicken."

"Why do boys have to be so stupid? Who cares if they call you chicken if you can keep your teeth?"

"Chicken have teeth?"

"Jase Freeman, you make me so mad!" And she turned and walked away. She didn't even look back over her shoulder at him. She just walked away.

Jase stuck his chin out and pulled his shoulders back. He took a deep breath and stepped towards the concessions stand.

On the way, he couldn't help but think Here lies Jase Freeman...

The Wish I Wished Last Night is the first book in the middle grade fiction series The Chronicles of Crumberry.

Grab it up and read it with your kids over Spring Break! It might just open up conversation about the bully walking the halls at school.

Reminders All Around

They are everywhere.

You can see them if you are looking.

When you're having a wonderful day ...

and when you are in sorrow ...

they are there.

They don't wax and wane according to what's going on in your life.

Reminders.

Reminders of God's faithfulness.

I have an old nativity from my childhood. It used to play Silent Night. I reminds me before I knew Him, He knew me.

I listened to "When We All Get to Heaven" this morning. It took me back 38 years, when my faith was young and fresh. God was faithful to me during the frail years of growing.

There is a tiny crosstitched Christmas stocking hanging in my office nook. I started the project for our first child. When I miscarried, I tucked it away. The pain of losing our child was too great. I didn't get it out when I became pregnant with our second child. Our second joined our first in heaven, and the sorrow was deep. Today, that stocking bears John's name. God gave us James, Hannah, John, and Abigail. I wasn't ready to get the stocking out until John's birth. Today, it reminds me--I will see and know the two children in heaven, and God has blessed us greatly with 4 children.

My last name is Pierce. When I sign my name, I see God's faithfulness to give me my completer. My best friend. A godly, kind, and wise husband.

God takes a broken heart and puts it back together. It doesn't resemble the heart it used to be. It's a heart that knows He is real. He is faithful. And should sorrows come around again, He will put it back together again. And He will make it even more beautiful than it was the day before, because He is LORD.

His faithfulness whispers through the unexplainable. It sings through the confusing. It shouts in the sunrise. It wraps it's arms around us in the sunset.

God promised those who believe that He will supply for our every need.

He is faithful.

Evidence is everywhere.

I can see it.

Can you?

He Thought He Had All Authority

I can almost picture it...

He stood, in the finest of clothing. I imagine he stood with arrogant confidence.

And he demanded an answer.

"Where are you from?"

He had authority. Power to reduce people to begging. Power to do and say whatever he chose.

He didn't get an answer to his question.

His arrogance spilled out, "You're not talking to me? Don't you know that I have the authority to let you go and the authority to have you  killed?"

I'm sure he raised his voice.

We think we have authority too. We live like we get to choose our last day.

You do; I do too.

"Tomorrow I will ... "

"This summer we will ..."

"I plan to ... "

Such an unpopular subject--the truth.

It doesn't matter what your last name is, how much money you have, how many people bow to you, how confident you are ... you don't get to choose. Neither do I.

Whether you live another day, or die.

It's okay though, because there is a choice we've been given.

Many years ago, I saw myself as I am. I prayed and asked Jesus to be my Lord forever.

I chose forgiveness.

I chose a relationship.

I chose Jesus.

Pilate looked down at Jesus, bloodied and beaten, and demanded an answer. When no answer was given, he wielded his authority over Jesus ... well, he tried.

I wonder what cold chills ran through him when Jesus spoke? Did he go weak in the knees? Did he feel the impulse to bow?

"You would have no authority over Me at all, if it had not been given you from above."

John tells us from that moment, Pilate made every effort to release Him. His conflict must have been great--the wrestling between good and evil, the struggle to want Jesus and want to keep control over self. Arrogant refusal to admit sin.

He chose self that day.

Jesus chose His death that day ... so you and I could chose life.

Jesus' last earthly instructions, "All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth. Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe everything I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age"

I have to wonder if the words traveled back to Pilate's ivory tower ... Jesus has all authority. Did he feel the need to wash his hands once more?

I do not have the authority to choose the day I die, and neither do you.

It's okay though. I choose Jesus.

How about you?

Complete Joy

Sometimes we think joy is the laughter of a baby or the sight of spring's first bloom.

Perhaps you believe joy is making the final payment on that credit card or losing those last ten pounds (or the first ten pounds).

Maybe we imagine the joy of life without mental anguish, physical pain, and emotional scars.

The joy of the absence of betrayal. The joy of friendship. The joy of truth.

Friend, we want the joys of heaven. For those who love the Lord, that joy will be made sight one day.

But for now, where is the complete joy?

Jesus spoke with his disciples before his arrest to prepare them for the days ahead. He said "I am the vine and you are  the branches--abide in Me." He said, "If you keep My commandments you will remain in My love, just as I have kept My Father's commandments and remain in His love."

And then He said it ...

"I have spoken these things so My joy may be in you and your joy may be complete."

Oh, for complete joy.

Isn't it wonderful that we don't have to search for it? We don't have to wonder if joy is real.

The joy of Jesus is real. It isn't a buried treasure. He told us how we can have complete joy.

Keep His commandments. He said the two greatest commandments are to love God with all that we are and to love each other.

That's pretty daunting. I can't do that on my own. But if I abide in Jesus--pray, read my precious Bible, praise and worship Him alone, and listen to the nudge of the Holy Spirit when He says "Don't do that, do this. Don't say that, be quiet."

That's abiding and that's obedience. And when we are obedient His joy is complete in us.

There is certainly a fleeting joy in an innocent child's sweet smile and the twinkle in the eye's of a grandfather. There is joy in a pile of puppies and the embrace of a loyal friend.

But true joy. Complete joy. Joy that cannot be ripped from our hearts by anguish, betrayal, cancer, addiction, confusion ...

COMPLETE JOY that rests steadily and quietly---repeating the message "Everything will be okay, because our Father is in charge"--the joy that sustains us until the day our faith will be sight.

Oh, how He loves you and me.


Thank you, Haley White for lending me a pic of your #handletteringbyhaley.

My Mother's Moxie

Mom and I have enjoyed a few laughs and some great conversations recently.

I learned some great kitchen shortcuts this week while visiting with her. She showed me how to peel the perfect boiled egg and a fast, easy way to "chop" an egg. Did you know all you do is place a cooling rack above your bowl and push the egg through the metal squares? Genius, I tell you!

She thinks about her kids and grandkids a lot. She remembers things like teaching Abbie new crochet stitches and early morning phone calls from Dodie.

She smiles when hearing about the great grands--would love to cuddle Dolly and kiss the back of Micah's neck. Loves hearing Lilley and Sky shout "I love you, Granny!"

It seems the people she loves--Mike, her children and their spouses, grandkids, great grandkids, Trish, her sisters--they are all on her mind. Even as she appears to be sleeping, she is thinking of the people in her life.

I asked her if she is afraid to die. She is not. Because Jesus lives in her heart, she is secure in knowing when the time comes she'll close her eyes to this world and open them to see Jesus.

Her only concern is for the people she loves. She wants us to be okay. I reminded her, if God is powerful enough to save our souls, He is powerful enough to take care of each one of us until we are together again.

She added something to our talk the other day that is ringing in my heart. She said, "I just want to know I made a difference in this world."

Oh, yes, Mom, you have and continue to make a difference. From telling strangers in the Dollar Tree that God is faithful to crochet stitches that turn into gifts of love to kitchen shortcuts.

With a twinkle in her eyes, she listened as I reminded her of her moxie that lives on in her kids and their kids ... moxie that doesn't quit. Moxie that stands up and moves forward under difficult circumstances. Moxie that looks for a better way. Moxie that makes a difference.

I suppose she verbalized what we all really want in this life ... to make a difference.

While we have today, let's just do it. Be kind to strangers. Forgive those who hurt you. Leave a big tip.

Tell the people around you that God is faithful. Be bold and tell them He is powerful enough to redeem each soul that humbly bows and believes.

I'm so thankful for my mom. I'm thankful for great memories and wonderful talks. I treasure quiet moments.

And moxie. Yeah, I'm super happy about my mother's moxie.

These Things Were Allowed So ...

It's the biblical truth no one talks about.

Jesus gives us the answer to the why's of life in John chapter 9. But it's the answer we don't want to hear.

His disciples asked Jesus--Who sinned? This man who was born blind or his parents? Whose fault is it, Lord? Someone must be to blame.

And Jesus' answer? Neither. His blindness was allowed so that God's works might be displayed in him.

It was allowed--God didn't cause it.

The reason? So God's works might be displayed in him.

We want God to stop all the madness in the world. We pray for Him to intercede and make people do the right thing. Stop addictions, stand between people who fight with each other, say the word and remove what causes great pain.

We beg Him to keep the cells in our bodies from betraying us, turning into cancer that kills.

We pour our hearts out and even try to make deals, if He would just heal the ones we love.

We cry out to Him to help us understand.

What motivates us is right ... or is it? We just want peace and joy and happiness.

Do we want God to be glorified? Do we want His works to be displayed in us no matter the cost?

We don't want to hear that these things are allowed so God's works might be displayed in us.

I wrestle with this just like you do. I want God to display His works my way.

When your heart is broken, when you are lost in yourself, when you wish you could somehow run away from pain ... let it drive you to Jesus.

When you are sick and tired of sick and tired, when confusion has tied you up in knots, when your anger consumes you ... take it to Jesus.

We don't have to try to force the display of God's works in us. We don't have to figure out what that looks like or how it's done. No, that's all God.

All we have to do is turn to Him and not our own way of dealing with these things that cut the deepest.

But, how? It's a conversation. It's prayer. It's an open Bible and more prayer.

And it's praise. Praise? Who feels like praise when wounds are open and emotions are raw? Praise Him for what?

It can begin small--praise Him for the air you breathe, the sun, the trees, the moon and stars. Praise Him for the shoes on your feet, the milk in your fridge, the neighbors dog that wakes you up every morning.

Praise Him for the people in your life, your job, your home, and your favorite chair.

Praise Him because He keeps His promise to work in all things to bring good for those who love Him.

Praise Him and see how His works are displayed in you.

And never try to find the right words to say to those who hurt when there are no right words. Offer tears, prayers, hugs, and just be present.

One day, it will all be okay. This life that is a blip on the radar will move over for eternity. I believe in His saving grace. I believe everything the Bible says about heaven. I believe in His promises.

Oh, that God's works might be displayed in my life and yours.

My Prayer List Grows

This morning I sit and look at graduation pictures of my 4 amazing children.

A lifetime has passed, it seems, since high school days. 

And my prayer list grows.

I look at their pictures and I imagine the faces of the people they love, the people they have added to our family, and I often feel overwhelmed with gratitude for each one ... and my prayer list grows.

I learned from Tommy's parents how to love without lines. There is no defining line between my kids and the loves they have added to this family. We now have 4 sons and 4 daughters. And my prayer list grows.

I see more faces. I see the faces of 4 beautiful grandchildren. And my prayer list grows.

Sometimes, fear tries to creep into my prayers. The anxiety producing what ifs. Yes, even as I pray, worry tries to steal the joy brought into my life by these faces.

They are adults now. I don't know them as I once did. I used to know if they ate their vegetables, got enough sleep, said their prayers, and felt good about their day.

This morning, as I prayed for my children, those what if's tried once again to squelch my words.

And Psalm 139 sent peace and calm as I reminded myself of something you might need to be reminded of as well. 

God knows my children (and yours) from the smallest cell in their bodies to the number of hairs on their heads to the thoughts they share with no one.

He knows their fears, hopes, dreams.

He knows their faults, failures and shortcomings.

He knows what makes them laugh and what makes them cry.

He knows.

He knows.

He knows and He loves them. God's love for the people I love is greater and more complete and more powerful than I can even imagine.

What a wonderfully safe place for me to rest my heart! For even as my prayer list grows, He has already gone before me. 

While my knowledge is limited, for Him there is no what if.

I will praise Him for a long prayer list, for the precious faces of my 8 children and 4 grandchildren. I will praise Him for His grand love for each one. 

I will continue to pray for each one and trust the One who knows them best and loves them most.

And I will thank Him for a prayer list that grows.

This One Thing I Know

Running is the fountain of youth.

Running will kill you.

Eat peanut butter.

Never eat peanut butter.

Probiotics are good for you.

Probiotics are will harm you.

You need 8 hours of sleep each night.

5-6 hours of sleep is enough.

The earth is round.

The earth is ... well, okay, it's round.

I know I'm not alone in my frustration as I search for truth. Seems no matter what the latest study shows, tomorrow there will be a study to refute it. I mean seriously, did you know there's a "doctor" out there saying we should NEVER eat yogurt?

Sometimes I want to toss my computer into the front yard and run away screaming "This world has gone crazy!"

It's no secret we live in a super upside down place. It's no surprise we fight over which politician is telling the truth (which is becoming increasingly ridiculous every day). And God didn't glance over at us and wonder how we got where we are today.

When my children were little, I could watch them and know what toy they would reach for. James loved his books and his golf clubs by 2nd grade. Hannah was a Barbi fanatic and would play for hours. John chose his tractors and farm animals. Abigail had twin baby dolls she named Katie and Katie. These memories make me smile.

I knew what they would choose. I didn't cause them to choose it.

It's my feeble illustration of God's ability to know all things. He didn't make me get up this morning and pour my 3rd cup of coffee but He certainly knew I would.

Even as I make light of peanut butter and probiotics, my heart is so heavy with the greater things I don't understand. Why do young mothers leave this earth early? Why do children get hurt in car accidents? Why can't I learn I can't fix people? Why can't I learn I cannot fix myself?

When I am overwhelmed with what I do not know, I settle myself with what I do know. I know I can trust Jesus in moments of peace and joy and I can trust Him in the center of madness. When my chest is heavy and I cannot sleep--I can go to the One who created me and knows me. Time and time again He has met my deepest need and shown Himself faithful.

I love you, Jesus. And today, moment by moment, I trust You.

I trust You.

I trust You.

"My Father is still working, and I am working also." John 5:17

His eyes were on the waters.

He waited. For 38 years. With his eyes on the waters.

He wasn't alone. Many people--sick, blind, lame, paralyzed--all watching the waters.

They waited and watched for the waters to stir. The one who had help and made it into the water first was healed.

He had no one. Even so, he waited. And he kept his eyes on the waters.

This pool of water was in Bethesda. The Bible describes it as having 5 colonnades. It must have been beautiful in its day.

The man's eyes were on the waters. But Jesus' eyes were on the man.

"Do you want to get well?"

The Messiah is speaking. And the man is looking at the waters.

"I have no help. No one will take me to the waters."

"Get up! Pick up your bedroll and walk."

By the end of the day, this man had healing. Both physical and, vastly more important, spiritual.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if all illness and forms or torment could be healed and no longer present on earth? Well, it would be ... heavenly.

A few verses later, we read how angry the religious leaders were. Jesus healed the man at the pools on the Sabbath.

His response was simple. "My Father is still working, and I am working also."

His eyes were on the waters and he waited. Until the day he looked at Jesus instead of the waters.

The pools at Bethesda are no longer there. We still have our eyes on something other than Jesus.

Self.

Education.

Money.

A person.

A dream.

A goal.

Our healing--healing of the heart, healing of the mind, healing of our pain--comes when we keep our eyes on Jesus.

The removal of cancer, addictions, sorrows, and loss on earth isn't going to happen. I look forward to heaven. I look forward to these things gone from memory.

Until then, I will believe with all my heart "My Father is still working, and I am working also."

I love you, Jesus.

My Peace I Leave with You

Most people in the world long for peace.

Peace between nations.

Peace between family members.

Peace within their hearts.

My husband and a few friends recently spent time together in Israel. What a beautiful, confusing, deep, amazing land.

There's so much I long to understand about the past and the present of this complicated. special place.

Jesus walked that ground 2,000 years ago teaching, healing, and showing the world His Father. In fact, what got the people most angry with Him were the words "If you have seen Me, you have seen the Father."

Even then, people wanted peace.

Peace in their nation.

Peace in their hearts.

No different from today, they looked and listened but they could not see nor hear.

We want peace, but only on our own terms. Peace without cost. Peace without effort.

Hours before Jesus was arrested, He spoke to those closest to Him. He spoke from the heart. He spoke from the Father.

John chapter 14. We call it the Comfort Chapter. It has been a personal favorite chapter for many years.

"Let not your heart be troubled. You believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father's house are many mansions. If it were not so, I would have told you. I go and prepare a place for you and if I go and prepare a place I will come again and receive you unto myself so where I am, you will be also ... Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives ..."

Peace comes with a price.

The price is surrender. The price is laying down self-sufficiency and picking up Jesus. The price is not just admitting we need Him, the price is in acting on our need minute by minute of every broken and difficult day.

Our hearts are restless because we want to understand everything. We want answers to the why's of heartache and disappointment. We want relief. We think peace comes with having all our prayers answered.

Complete peace, like true joy, comes from giving up and giving in. It's the cry, that guttural cry, that admits I cannot continue to do this life this way. I cannot continue to use my own limited strength.

Jesus! I give in. I hand over to You my need to do it on my own, my desire to fix. My want to understand and my felt control.

I want Your peace. I accept Your peace in place of my pride.

I hope you'll read John chapter 14 today.

I will pray for the peace of Jerusalem.

I will pray for peace among people.

But more so, I pray for people to know the gift of salvation and the peace of total surrender.

Minute by minute of every broken and difficult day.