I think everyone would agree this version of 2020 was not the year we signed up for when we turned the calendar page on January first.
First, a pandemic shut down our country and tried to erase hope and joy. As we’ve become a little more comfortable living in the “new different”, we are confronted with where our hearts and thoughts really stand when it comes to racism.
***For the first three weeks in May, I want to introduce you to three author friends. They have books that have just released, and each of them has wisdom they’ll share in their posts that guided their stories. I am including links to their books, should you want to learn more. And no, I’m not earning anything from sharing them. I just want you to get to know these authors. Enjoy!***
Some friendships are for a season, and some last a lifetime. Beth Vogt is a life-friend. We’ve walked many seasons together. She was the first person I shared with that God had given me a story. Instead of telling me to wait until my sons were older, she encouraged me to write it. And, she directed me to helpful resources to learn how to write a novel. She’s an encourager, a truth-speaker, an amazing author, and one of the most authentic people I know. I am so pleased to share her words here today. Please help me welcome Beth Vogt!
Last week’s winner of The Joy of Falling is: Anita Ojeda! Please contact me within the next week to receive your book.
I was 21 years old when I embraced living by faith, instead of living by the familiar structure of my religious upbringing.
I’m thankful my parents taught me to believe in God. But I’m even more grateful my then-future husband told me how important his faith was to him. I’ll admit that, at the time, I wondered why he talked so much about Jesus and the Bible. Both topics are a bit extreme for me—especially since we were on our second date.
Understanding that faith was more relationship than rituals altered my life. Hope began to seep into the parched corners of my soul and expanded who I thought I could be.
First of all, I am so, so excited to share a free ebook I’ve created for newsletter subscribers. Want to learn more? Click this link.
Have I mentioned that I. Don’t. Like. Change?
Life as we know it . . .
Church activities and services
School (my kids’ spring break was extended to two weeks due to the virus)
And many other activities . . .
Have come to a jarring halt.
With the concerns about the latest virus, I’ve vacillated between fear, frustration, and resignation. I know there are fewer cases and deaths from the coronavirus than we normally see from Influenza. But, this virus has made national headlines for weeks. The numbers sound so ominous.
Many years ago, our oldest wouldn’t wake up one morning. It wasn’t stubbornness on his part. He was feverish, lethargic, and simply couldn’t stay awake. I let him sleep. But as the clock ticked toward noon and I couldn’t rouse him even for a drink of water, my mama’s heart revved as worry dug in deep.
God allowed us to get a same-day appointment with our doctor. I hefted my unconscious boy into his office. Long story short, he thought it would be best to take Peter to the ER.
Not long ago, my wound got stomped on by people close to me. Things were said. The message conveyed felt like a snub, and it stung. My first response was to leave the situation.
I moved on from the incident, but that re-opened wound festered, leaving me stinking on the inside, insecure in my thinking, and holding onto a grudge. My first thought was to ignore the pain caused by words.
Oh sure, I tell people to pray for their children, their husbands, and the heart needs they each have. I tell them God hears, and He answers each and every prayer. Sometimes, it’s with a “Yes.” Other times, the answer is, “No.” And then there’s the “Not yet,” answer.
I believe these truths with all my heart. I know that I know I am a daughter of the King . . . that He loves me completely, passionately, and perfectly. I know we must choose faith.