Joy In Surrender

  When I retired, I took on gardening as part of my household chores—a task I didn’t exactly volunteer for, but one that’s become a surprising joy. I now love being outdoors, trimming the bushes, mowing and edging the lawn, and admiring the results when everything looks neat and vibrant. What I didn’t expect, however, was how much that backyard—especially the grass—would teach me about my walk with Christ. Our backyard lawn was in rough shape when I inherited it. Years of neglect had allowed all sorts of weeds to take root—clover, stickers, and especially crabgrass. At first glance, it looked green, but up close, I realized much of what was growing wasn’t the original grass at all. I set out to restore it, using weed and feed, watering more intentionally, and even getting down on my hands and knees to pull out the invasive growth by hand. But here’s the thing about crabgrass—it’s sneaky. It sends out long shoots, far from the central plant, invading fresh ground before you even...

A devotional reflection on trust and peace. I was sitting quietly in my morning chair, enjoying my coffee and reading the Bible, when my dog’s ears suddenly went into telescope alert—meaning my peace was about to be interrupted. Sure enough, I heard cats fighting, and Lily began running from door to door, trying to see the commotion. Ironically, there’s a dog door right behind my chair, but she refused to go through it. Barking and pacing, she kept at it while I urged her to go outside. But I knew no amount of coaxing would tempt her to face those cats—the neighborhood bullies. She likes to act tough when she sees them, but in reality, she’s extremely afraid of them. After a few minutes of chaos, I clapped my hands to get her attention. She froze, then jumped into my lap, trembling like she feared for her life. I began to rub her belly and whisper, “Those cats can’t hurt you—you’re in my house. I will protect you.” As I stroked her belly, she began to calm down, her eyes slowly cl...

When Looking Up is the Only Way to Live In prayer this morning, the Holy Spirit brought John 12:32 to my mind: “When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself.” As I sat with that verse, I was reminded of Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus in John 3 — you know, the one about being born again. Jesus said something powerful in verses 14 and 15: “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up.” That got me curious. What did Jesus really mean by being “lifted up”? I traced it back to Numbers 21, where the Israelites — grumbling and discouraged in the wilderness — were met with poisonous snakes as a result of their sin. People were dying. It was chaos. Then came mercy. God told Moses to make a bronze serpent, lift it on a pole, and anyone who simply looked at it — would live. Just look. It seems too easy, right? But it wasn’t about the bronze snake. It was about trusting the One who provided it. It was about faith. Fast-forwa...

When God knows exactly what your heart needs—even at 30,000 feet. A couple of months ago, I had just spent two wonderful weeks with my son and his family. It was full of moments I’ll treasure forever—sweet talks with the older grandkids, silly playtime with the littles, and bonding with the 1 year old and newborn (who, of course, was as adorable as the rest). My heart was full. But goodbyes are hard. And travel days are even harder when your emotions are already tender. By the time I got to the airport, I felt off—just kind of emotionally raw. I was tired and stretched thin in that way that sneaks up after you’ve given your all. I prayed silently, asking God to help me leave the heaviness behind and not carry it with me on the flight home. Then, of course, the delays started. My first flight was late, and suddenly it looked like I might miss my connection in Dallas. That meant possibly staying overnight in an airport and not making it home to my husband—who I was so ready to see...

  Gossip is one of those sins that’s spoken about often in Scripture, and yet it seems to freely roam through churches—causing wounds that are hard to see, but deeply felt. I recently found myself preparing a training session for women leaders in our church, and the topic of gossip was one I knew needed to be addressed. What I didn’t expect was that it would hit so close to home—right in the middle of my preparation. Someone I love became the subject of gossip. The story passed from state to state, from person to person, and eventually reached me—tainted, twisted, and tied to someone in our church. My first reaction? Righteous anger. I wanted to expose the wrong. I wanted to protect the one I love. But I also knew I needed to pause. I prayed. I sought counsel. I prayed again. And in the quiet, the Holy Spirit spoke. He reminded me of a few truths: • I didn’t know the original source. • I didn’t know the heart behind the conversation. • I didn’t even know exactly what wa...