Because when voices escalate big and loud, fighting to be heard, the voice of God whispers small.
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Five years ago, on a tropical Maui day date with my husband, I picked out an obscure-for-me journal that would later prove to hold the written-worship response to my long-awaited miracle. I didn’t expound then on why I selected it – that was a private story I’m not even sure I shared with my husband...
My soul is sponge-heavy. It’s absorbed enough and soaked up enough and cleaned up enough that all it seem to do is some water dripping. It’s November, which is always more strenuous for my muscle memory (not just because of this, but also this). It’s also the November of a pandemic year. And the November...
I pulled my old quiet time binder out a couple of months ago – the one from those ten years of well-digging and Scripture-studying through my Search the Scriptures quiet time companion book. It’s certainly not the prettiest thing in the world – there’s a printer-paper copy of a photograph I took in college of some...
The beginning of 2016 happened to coincide with the beginning of a brand new prayer journal. I stood staring at shelves of journals in the bookstore one afternoon, taking in my array of options when one cover caught my eye. A design element that was bordered out on black that immediately brought three words to...
Because when voices escalate big and loud, fighting to be heard, the voice of God whispers small.
Five years ago, on a tropical Maui day date with my husband, I picked out an obscure-for-me journal that would later prove to hold the written-worship response to my long-awaited miracle. I didn’t expound then on why I selected it – that was a private story I’m not even sure I shared with my husband...
My soul is sponge-heavy. It’s absorbed enough and soaked up enough and cleaned up enough that all it seem to do is some water dripping. It’s November, which is always more strenuous for my muscle memory (not just because of this, but also this). It’s also the November of a pandemic year. And the November...
I pulled my old quiet time binder out a couple of months ago – the one from those ten years of well-digging and Scripture-studying through my Search the Scriptures quiet time companion book. It’s certainly not the prettiest thing in the world – there’s a printer-paper copy of a photograph I took in college of some...
The beginning of 2016 happened to coincide with the beginning of a brand new prayer journal. I stood staring at shelves of journals in the bookstore one afternoon, taking in my array of options when one cover caught my eye. A design element that was bordered out on black that immediately brought three words to...