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Pilgrimage of Trust

A few nights ago, I found an old journal from the year 1991. My first entry included the details of a God orchestrated event that still leaves me in awe today. I, at eighteen years old, was a young Believer; and unlike the majority of my peers, I had no plans for the future. For months, I sought the Lord each night, asking Him to show me my next steps. His answer would come the day after I graduated from high school.

Early that morning, I received a phone call from my pastor, asking me if I would like to be a summer intern with a ministry based in Mexico. My job, he said, would be to help church groups coming from the states build houses for families in need in the heart of Mexico. If I were to agree to go, I would need to be ready to leave in three days. When I inquired about the financial aspect of the summer, I was dumbfounded when my pastor told me that our church was paying for everything. 

Without a doubt, I knew this opportunity was my long-awaited answer. Three days later, I was on my first plane ride donned in my blue jean overalls and a straw hat with a big floral bow attached to the side. And that right there was where the cuteness ended because the rest of the summer was one of the most exacting experiences I have ever faced.

From the beginning, I was in way over my head, and I knew it. On our first day of training at the job site, someone asked me to bring them a 2×4. I remember the look on their face when I wondered aloud how you could tell the difference between a 2×4 and say, a 6×8? Ha! I had no previous construction experience, and deciphering a blueprint was, at best, laughable. One of the natives, Felipe, who worked for the ministry, took pity on me and invited into his family’s home for the weekend and patiently taught me the basic principles of framing. Thanks to Felipe, I’ll never forget the carpentry term, “California Corner.” 

Throughout my ten-week long internship, I cried many tears, and I was exhausted. But I learned what it meant to be in a constant posture of dependence upon God. I was indeed “pressed on every side, but not crushed…” (2 Corinthians 4:8) No matter how badly I wanted to pack up and go home, the Lord faithfully gave me the strength to face another day. In hindsight, my lack of experience and knowledge mattered little. Ultimately, God did not send me to Mexico to teach grown men how to build houses. He sent me to Mexico to teach me how to trust Him.

One night after we lost Justin, I stole away in my bedroom to gather my thoughts. My eyes were full of tears, and my mind was going in circles as I tried to understand God’s plan. At that moment, God reminded me of my Mexico experience and how I learned to trust Him on that long and hard road. In the same way, I knew I could trust Him at that moment, even though I would likely never understand. 

Today, I am lifting my shield of faith and drawing upon my experiences of the Lord’s tender care. I don’t know what our future holds, but I know that I can trust Him to see us through.  

Until tomorrow,


“Trust in him at all times, oh people, pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us.” Psalm 62:8

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Forget Not, Even When It Hurts CV Lay-Off Day:35

My heart has been in my throat most of the day, and it took me until dinner to pinpoint my angst. I miss Justin. I still find it nearly impossible to understand that he is gone fully. This morning as I walked, I was grateful for the empty sidewalks that gave me the freedom to allow fresh tears to drop without inhibition.
I guess in hindsight, that should have clued me that this might be a tough day. But, the thing about grief is that, sometimes, it’s sneaky. It clouds your mind with countless unintelligible thoughts while stealthy depleting your energy reserve. And, grief, coupled with the added stress of Tim’s now extended lay-off, has me feeling a smidge undone.
One of the most impactful lessons I am learning since losing Justin is how to lament and simultaneously remember God’s character. In my “before,” I did not want to sit in my heavy emotions and wait for God to comfort me. Instead, I skipped the lament and eased my ache on my own terms. But, after losing my boy, the previous coping practices that I honed so well were inadequate in the face of such anguish.
Today, I am learning how to express my guttural moanings with my eyes fixed on the Lord. It’s like practicing Psalm 62:8, “Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts before him; God is a refuge for us.” while remembering who God is as described in Psalm 103:1-5

Bless the LORD, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name! Bless the LORD, O my soul and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagles.

The term “forget not” in verse two means- to forget, ignore, wither, to cease to care.
Oh, friend, this is a good word for the pilgrim walking through the trials and hardship. When the weightiness of grief rests upon our hearts, and despondency whispers our name, and let us resist the urge to stop caring. Instead, let us run to our Savior and yield to the perfect Comforter. His tender balm reaches down to the deepest crevices of our hearts, heals another layer of our broken hearts.
Even when it hurts, let us not forget not His benefits; He is always faithful.
Grieving with hope,

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When We Don’t Understand CV Lay-Off Day:30

About a year ago, as I was scrolling through Facebook, I read a headline from a social news site about someone’s child dying. I made the mistake of reading through the comments, and I’ll never forget the woman who wrote, “Well, I pray for God’s protection over my children every day.” I thought about writing back, “Well, so do I, but sometimes God has a different plan.”

The day we lost Justin, I prayed for him and his safety. I asked the Lord to protect him. When the sheriff’s deputies arrived at our door early Sunday morning, I was dumbfounded. When the shock wore off, I was hurt and confused. 

I accused God, saying, “Lord, I asked you to protect Justin, and you didn’t. Why didn’t you protect him?” His response is the most gentle rebuke I have ever received. He reminded me of Job 38:4-5,

“Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell me if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements-surely, you know! Or who stretched the line upon it?”

The Lord so kindly put me in my rightful place. He is the Creator, and I am His created one. God does not answer to me; I answer to Him. I would have never chosen to lose my son, and I doubt I’ll ever understand why his allotted days were only twenty years. But, I trust that God is who He says He is, and ways are higher and thoughts are higher than mine. (Isaiah 55:8-9)

On the night of the accident, as I lay waiting and praying for Justin to get home, I began quoting Scripture to soothe my anxious thoughts. As I recited Proverbs 3:5, “Trust in the LORD with all of your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.” the Lord caused a pause in my spirit. I immediately knew something was terribly wrong. It would be a good while down the road before I understood what that pause was all about.

I simply could not wrap my mind around the “why” of losing Justin. I would cry, “Why, Lord, why did he have to die?” One night, as I asked yet again, “Why?” the Lord brought to mind the night of the accident as I lay in bed praying. I remembered how He impressed Proverbs 3:5 upon my heart, and then, I finally got it. It was like He was saying, “Missy, trust in me with all of your heart. Don’t try to understand why; trust Me.” That settled it for me and gave me rest in my soul.  

Today, I have more questions, but I also have hindsight. Now, I know that I don’t have to have to understand God’s plan to trust Him. He is who He says He is, and He is always faithful. 

Until tomorrow,


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His Abiding Faithfulness CV Lay-Off Day: 11

When I was eighteen years old, and one-day post-graduation, I heard from God. A few months earlier, I had attended a retreat with my church youth group. I don’t remember all of the details of that weekend except that the speaker’s testimony mirrored my life.

When I returned home, I began kneeling by my bedside and seeking the Lord each night. I felt an enormous amount of stress; the majority of my friends had already selected their colleges. I, on the other hand, wasn’t sure if my grades would allow me to cross the stage and receive my diploma. I’d lost track of how many times we’d moved, but it was my fourth high school in four years. Therefore, I had no plan at all and only a part-time job at the local Fish N Chips.

But, by the skin of my teeth and a horrific GPA, I did indeed graduate.

The morning after my graduation, I was sitting on my bed when the phone rang; it was my pastor. Shane told me that he’d had the urge to clean out his closet that morning and tucked away on a shelf, he’d found a packet detailing a summer internship in Mexico. He thought of me, he said. I asked him how much it cost because I didn’t have a cent to my name. Shane told me that he’d already spoken with the elders, and they agreed that the church would sponsor me, including my airfare.

“Well, when would I leave?” I asked.
“In three days.”

I told him I’d talk to my parents and let him know the answer as soon as possible. To say my Dad and Mom were less than thrilled is an understatement. They didn’t know Shane well and weren’t familiar with the way mission trips run. They saw the whole thing as slave labor, and my dad may have threatened to go to Mexico himself and “take care of business” if something happened to me.

Ultimately, my parents said that because I was eighteen years old, I could make the decision to go, but I would not have their blessing. I knew with all of my heart that it was a direct answer from the Lord. Three days later, my sister and her boyfriend dropped me off at the airport, and I was alone for the first time in my life. I spent the next ten weeks teaching youth groups how to build houses in impoverished cities in the heart of Mexico.

The Lord used the last semester of my senior year to lay foundational building blocks of my faith. Because when we lost Justin, and my life turned upside down, I remembered His faithfulness to an eighteen-year-old girl crying each night by her bedside.

Today, when we are tempted to fret about tomorrow, let us put into practice King David’s words in Psalm 62:8, “Trust in the Lord at all times O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us.”

Until tomorrow,


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This Vaporless Life CV Lay-OFF Day:8

If you are at all familiar with Dave Ramsey, you’ll understand my next statement with ease. Tim and I have “done stupid” more times than we can count. Financially speaking, it’s been a long road of learning how to steward our resources wisely.

We’ve put ourselves on many budget freezes, made oaths to each other that we wouldn’t eat out, and for a while, I even ventured into the craziness of price matching. Everyone in our family jokingly uses the phrase in our best Texas accent, “beans and rice, and rice and beans,” but we’ve never actually eaten only rice and beans for dinner.

When the news began trickling in about the COVID-19 from China, I was mildly alarmed. My heart went out to the Chinese people who were unable to receive life-saving medical care. And then, I heard that two cases were reported here in the United States. My concern increased, and I began paying closer attention to the news. Still, I had no idea that we’d be facing a complete pandemic.

Two Saturdays ago, I was still pretty calm about the whole situation until I read a post in a local Facebook group. It said that people were in a line, wrapped around Costco waiting to buy their supplies. Around the same post, I read there was a run on toilet paper; I had to read that post twice. So, instead of my typical calm Saturday morning routine, I put some on clothes some and headed to the grocery store just in case all of the hype was real.

When I pulled into our Fry’s parking lot, I was shocked. I could hardly find a spot, and I scarcely got a shopping cart. When I walked into the store, the panic on people’s faces unnerved me. The store was completely picked over. Interestingly, the fruit and vegetables were still well-stocked, but almost all the other shelves were bare.

I had the whole beans and rice mantra going through my head, but rice and beans had left the building. There was no pasta, and 90% of the canned goods were gone. I am pretty sure I saw SPAM there, but, no thank you. I was in such a daze that I forgot to even check for toilet paper, but I am quite sure it, too, was gone. It was then, as I checked out at the counter that I realized that this thing is real.

Getting Back to the Basics

Tim and I talked about it in length and immediately began implementing changes. Again, another spending freeze, limiting fast-food, and no new projects. Thankfully, our canned goods and beans were well stocked, because well, we never eat them.

We, for the most part, are staying at home. For the next few days, we are purposing not to make a quick run to the grocery store or any other errand. We’ve decided that we’ll make do with what we have and as much as it depends on us, try to stay healthy.

Our family needed a reset. We needed to get back to the basics with things like our grocery budget, our time, and even the kind of food we serve at home. More importantly, it’s been a good time to pull back the curtain and reexamine our priorities.

The greatest travesty, second to death, would be arriving at the other side of this pandemic unchanged. Much like Edmund, in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, was lured in to eat the enchanted Turkish delight, so are we captivated with comfort and ease. They slowly lull us to sleep, our affections for the Lord diminish, and complacency reigns.

When we lost Justin, I learned that life indeed is like a vapor. Justin had no idea that his life would end on July 15, 2017, at 20-years-old. Moses wrote,

“Whether we have another 50 days or another 50 years on this earth, let us not waste this life. In the blink of an eye, the Scripture tells us that “we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may receive what is due for what he has done in the body, whether good or evil.” ( 2 Corinthians 5:10)

In this sobering time, let us draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Until tomorrow,


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Peace in the Storm CV Lay-Off Day:7

When I was a new mom, I met an Irish woman at church named Rosie. She had flaming red hair kept in a pixie cut. Her sense of humor was razor-sharp, and she held a wealth of wisdom in her petite frame.

At the time, Tim was taking a full load of classes at seminary and working fulltime at the hospital. Most of my days consisted of just Justin and me. I noticed that Justin started to misbehave in the late afternoon, making the home stretch to bedtime feel like an eternity. One day, I shared my concern with Rosie. She looked me in the eyes, and with empathy, she said something to the effect of, “Missy, no wonder. the hours from 5:00-7:00 pm are known as the arsenic hour.”

At the time, that sounded a little sinister to me, but now, five kids and twenty-some years later, I get it. By dinner time, I come in limping, and tonight was no exception. Tim was making chicken on the grill, and I was at the kitchen counter, cutting up vegetables for our salad. Sarah was trying to tell me a story, two of the boys were chasing each in and out of the house, and our youngest was crying because he got hurt in the middle of the chaos.

Tim called Sarah and me outback and said we had to see the sunset, my favorite. As I stepped outside, I caught a glimpse of the sky filled with glowing pink clouds. I breathed in deeply, unclinched my jaw, and drank in the beauty. And in a single moment, I heard, “Peace! Be still.” At that point, I walked back into the house, out the front door, and crossed the street to the cotton field to get a better look. I repeated to myself, “Peace! Be still!” And when I did, I thought of the story in Mark 4:35-41.

Jesus and the disciples were winding down after a long day of their own. Jesus had just spent the day speaking to massive crowds. He said to his disciples, “Let us go across to the other side.” The Scripture goes on to tell the rest of the story:

“Upon leaving the crowd, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. And other boats were with him. And a great windstorm arose, and the waves were breaking into the boat so that the boat was already filling. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion. And they woke him and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still.: And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. He said to them, “Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?” And they were filled with great fear and said to one another, “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

As I gazed at the sky, now almost twilight, I knew that the Spirit reminded me of Jesus’ words not only because of the chaos happening in our home, but the storm that we are facing with Tim’s lay-off. There are no guarantees that Tim will have his job back in eight weeks. We don’t know how long it with take the travel industry to bounce back.

The truth is, my security is challenged, and it is frightening. But just like the disciples, I must take Jesus’ words to heart, “Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?”

As I began walking back to our house, fragments of Colossian 1:15-17 played through my mind,

“He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him, all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities-all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him, all things hold together.”

Nothing is a surprise to God. He created heaven and earth, and all things visible and invisible. The One who calms the storm holds us with his right hand. 

Are you facing a storm in your life?  How can I pray for you? Please leave a comment or send me a message. I would love to pray for you.

Until tomorrow,


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From Shame to Freedom

ON THE LEFT: I was overwhelmed and filled with shame. Getting healthy felt unattainable. One morning, alone in my bathroom, I cried out to God, “Please help me, this feels hopeless!”. I was in the pit of despair and couldn’t see a way out.

A few days later, our Justin sat me down for what would be a life-changing conversation asking me to get healthy. I agreed and wholeheartedly set out on my pilgrimage.

ON THE RIGHT: F R E E I am learning what walking in freedom looks like on a daily basis. I am more broken than I have ever been, but God, in his steadfast love, is teaching me to run to him with my hurt, angst, and sorrow instead of food. In his loving kindness, God is giving me a deep abiding joy that no other temporary ‘thing’ could ever produce.

Oh friend, wherever you are on your journey today, cry out to Jesus! (Psalm 103)

Are you discouraged? Pour out your heart to Him. (Psalm 62:8)

Are you weary? Run to Jesus, he will give you rest! ( Matthew 11:28-30)

Are you overwhelmed? Cast your cares upon the Lord, He cares about you! (1 Peter 5:7)

Do you long to know this Jesus I speak of?
Cry out to Him! The Bible says, “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.” Romans 10: 9

Wherever you are, I pray you are encouraged in your faith and refreshed for this new day. ~ Missy

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Walking Through Grief

Our bedroom has a revolving door most mornings; today was no exception. Joshua, our youngest, climbed into bed with us after a middle of the night potty accident. He gives the sweetest wake-up calls, usually greeting me with a hug around the neck and multiple kisses; first my cheeks and then two more, one for each closed eye. He finally makes his way out of our bed, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I hear his little feet padding down the stairs to see his Daddy.

Moments later, again the door opens, and I spy our sleepy-eyed Sammy boy, he’s nine-years-old, and a notorious cuddler. He melts into my arms, and I kiss his little cheeks say, “Good morning, Buddy.”

While he lies next to me a moment longer, seven-year-old Luke makes his effervescent appearance, throwing on the light while simultaneously releasing a newly captured butterfly into our bedroom, where I am sure it still hiding. After yelling, I mean telling Luke to turn off the light, I call him to me and greet him with his morning hugs. He melts and breathes an audible sigh of relief as I rub his hair and say, “Good morning, Lukie-bug.”

It’s 7:00 a.m., and it’s time for me to start the day. The big boys head downstairs, and I pick up my phone. My heart freezes as I read the devastating news, sweet friends lost their baby girl this morning. Tears pour down my cheeks, and I pray for them, pleading with God to comfort them and to be near. I feel entirely inadequate to write anything of worth that might be of help to this dear sister. It doesn’t matter that I am a Mom who lost their child, there are just no good words.

Heavy-hearted, I willed myself out of bed and went downstairs to help with breakfast preparation. I couldn’t help but think of the first hours we found out we’d lost Justin. I remember the peace within the chaos, the whirlwind of emotions, the disbelief that he was gone, and the dear people who surrounded us. I shared the news with Tim, and we took a moment and prayed for their sweet family, again, with fresh tears. Oh, God, please be near to them.

Breakfast prep was underway; two were having Malto-meal, one wanted cold cereal, and of course, everyone wanted eggs. One of our boys who has been having an issue with a quick tongue landed himself in time-out after making a snarky comment to one of his brothers. Said child has a sharper wit than I could ever dream of having; no doubt he inherited it from his Daddy.

Finally, we all sat down to breakfast and thanked the Lord for our food and a new day. It was a relatively peaceful meal, indeed a gift. The boys went out back to play, and Tim and I shared our morning cup of coffee together. Oh, how quickly the times passes once we sit down together. Before I knew it, it was time for him to begin his work day, He has a whole 10-second commute since he works from home. With a kiss and a hug, I am on my own.

I get the boys situated and do a rare thing; I started a movie for them at 9:00 a.m. We haven’t begun our school year yet since it’s only the end of July; when we still lived in Texas, I usually started after Labor Day. I am not sure when we will start-up again, most likely mid-August. Honestly, I can hardly remember our last school year; it’s all a fog. I limped through every single day, and by the grace of God, we survived. Throughout this last week, I made a little progress and started cleaning out our homeschool closet, have mercy! All of that to say, they watched a movie so that I could savor some time in the Word, in the end, this small act produces sanity for this Mama. Today, I am thinking on Isaiah 2:22, ‘Stop regarding man in whose nostrils is breath, for of what account is he?’ This truth speaks volumes for my desire for approval. It’s all vanity, for man is merely like me, we each require the same air to breathe, and we will all answer to our Maker one day. I write in my journal, ‘Self, keep your eyes on Jesus and off of man.’

Well, the boy with the quick tongue landed himself in time-out again. He cheered when his brother fell, because, in his words, he was angry with his him and he deserved it. Once his time was served, we talked. We talked about Jesus’ words, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Incidentally, this is the same child who asked me earlier this week if there was a “special pill” he could take so he could be kind to others. I tried hard not to laugh at that one. In the end, I told him Jesus is the answer, always Jesus. Afterward, he shared with me how he missed Justin and lamented how everything was more fun with Justin. Oh, how right he is. I told him I missed him too and agreed with him, yes, everything was more fun when Justin was with us. We ended our conversation with a hug and both of us determined we would figure out how to have fun without Justin. Because, well, there’s no other option.

As I sit here and write, I am aware that my to-do list is ever-increasing;

  • There’s an unpleasant odor wafting in from the garage; one our boys unplugged the extra freezer in the garage sometime earlier this week. Although my awesome husband emptied the contents of the freezer last night, the stench remains, and I need to find a remedy for that horrid smell.
  • Oh and earlier this week, Tim noticed our kitchen island is rotting at the bottom, most likely from past water damage. I can hardly wrap my mind around that one. That is a massive project, and we neither have the emotional or financial resources for such a thing right now. Help, Lord!
  • Not exactly abnormal for me, but this morning, I had to rewash a load of the boys’ clothes that sat in the washer one too many days, I must remember to transfer that load!
  • And, speaking of laundry, the basket of clean clothes needs to be put away today. It has been sitting there for days, at least they’re folded.
  • Our downstairs bathroom is a terrifying place to walk into right now because it’s frequented by three little boys with very poor aim; a hazmat suit might be in order.

All of these things are typical for running a household; except when you are walking through grief. The most mundane task seems to take every ounce of energy I possess. It reminds me of the time I went to on a mission trip to Mexico for spring break my senior year of high school. We were camped out in tents in this big and beautiful open field. The first day was lovely until it started raining. Soon the vast expanse turned into one massive pit of mud; when we tried to walk anywhere, our shoes became one with the earth as they were promptly suctioned off of our feet. Walking through grief feels a lot like that spring break trip. I declared I would never go back to Mexico; God had other plans for me; a different story for another day.

It’s noon now, and I need to get lunch started. Which reminds me, I have no idea what we are having for dinner, but I better decide soon. We have had a reasonably peaceful morning. I only had to break up a few arguments, and I issued less than five time-outs; that’s a win and boy, do I need a win.

Before I forget, I am transferring that load of laundry, now!

Forever held in His grip,


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Trusting God with Our Pain in Grief

I wanted to run and hide to ease the pain somehow, I was weary and heavy-hearted. A fresh wave of grief came crashing in, and my mind was racing with a hundred different thoughts all at once. I pulled out my journal and wrote;

“O’ Lord, I spent 20-years nurturing, training, loving, and guiding Justin. Now, he’s just gone. Lord, I ask you, O’ God, to take this ache from me, I run into Your arms, and I lay the pain of this loss and my heavy heart at your feet. You are the bread of life, the living water. Please come and fill this grief-the hollowness in my heart, with you and your goodness.”

Within just a minute’s time of writing out my prayer, I was led to read Psalm 46:4, “There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High.” Upon reading those words, I knew with absolute confidence the Lord was meeting with me. You see, earlier that morning I was studying and camping out in the book of John, specifically John 4:10 and John 7:37, and eventually lingering in with Revelation 7:17 and Revelation 22:1-2. I was drawn to Jesus’ description of himself, ‘the living water.’ When my eyes rested on Psalm 46:4 and absorbed the words “there is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,” I was sure it was yet another layer of what the Spirit was impressing upon me earlier that morning. To my great delight, upon searching the Scripture reference, I was correct!

A snapshot of my heart was captured as I wrote in my journal in real-time. It took a while to understand what was happening in my heart, but it finally clicked for me. As I was writing, I could hear the inner chatter of my mind asking questions, “What if God doesn’t answer me? What if I write this out, bare my heart, and I am left feeling the weight of my grief alone?”. They were honest questions because acknowledging my pain WHILE I was walking through it was something new for me. My “aha” moment revealed an unhealthy and : pattern I created. Instead of immediately taking my pain to the Lord, I regularly attempted to comfort my wounded heart by using food to soothe the turmoil within. This pattern only compounded my problems, for soon, shame was quick to follow along with the physical consequences of misusing food. I preempted taking my concern or hurt to the Lord because I feared He would be silent. Unknowingly, I was not trusting the Lord to sustain me, while instead, I tried to sustain myself.

This week bookmarks one year since I made my promise to Justin to get healthy. With certainty, that life-changing conversation propelled me for such a time as this. With the excruciating pain of losing Justin, there is a stark contrast between my manufactured comfort (food) and true comfort which comes from the Good Shepherd and Overseer of my soul. I was gracefully forced to stop using food to treat my pain. Instead, an irresistible invitation was extended to me and to you from the One who faithfully cares for our souls, “The Spirit and the Bride say, “Come.” And let the one who hears say, “Come.” And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price.” Revelation 22:17

Forever held in His faithful grip,


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Beauty in Our Brokenness

Since the early days after the accident, I have sensed a certain sacredness in grief. With the most vulnerable part of my heart exposed, I could only cry out to the Lord in my brokenness. It was laughable to consider anything else being even remotely comforting. As the days and weeks have turned into months, the temptation for distraction is enticing.

I am learning that it is of utmost importance to allow myself to sit in the waves of grief as they come; avoiding and postponing the ache is futile. In my lament, my heart is drawn to the great Comforter enabling me to cling to the Gospel, my hope. There is a sacred exchange in the acknowledgment of my brokenness and from the ashes arises a beauty only God can ordain.

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.  Psalm 51:17

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