The Gift of Pain!


The aftertaste of sorrow lingers. Still existent but no longer all consumed by its grip I manage to gasp for breath. Moments at a time, life begins its return. Coffee with a friend, here. Date with my husband, there. An unforced smile manages to break through on occasion. The thickness of grief prevented it before. But Light has broken and darkness is not so black as it was. Deep gashes and slashes in the soul begin to merge together again. Because this place is not foreign to me, I have confidence that time will heal. First one step, then another, each stronger than the one before. Though a sense of “why” may never be made, purpose will be found.  He promises it. I trust. It’s faint, but there. This pain will be a gift.

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When Surrender leads to Victory!


 Matthew 26:39 “Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.”

More times than I can count, I have asked God to “take this cup from me.” Change my path, decrease my burden, ease my suffering. No rest for the weary as the saying goes.

I find solace in the fact that, even Jesus, bowed before His father and begged him, not once, or even twice, but three times, to change the plan, redirect the path he was to tread. (Matt 26:44 “So he left them and went away once more and prayed the third time, saying the same thing.”)

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Lessons from my 15 Year Old Daughter!


Frayed edges, stained center (outdated by American standards,) the throw rug beneath displayed the wear of many feet that had paced before me. Arms crossed and tucked in close, not for the chill in the enclosed concrete room, but an effort to contain the emotions with in me. My third child, escorted by a dark haired woman in a floral smock, was delivered.

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Subtle Lies that Haunt Us!


The tone of the tall grass merges with the dirty yellow of his mane. No movement, no sound. None are aware of his presence. He observes.  A moment of weakness rises as one prey lets his guard down. Predator edges closer. No cracking of dry grass beneath his feet warns imminent danger lurks. The prey, oblivious to his surroundings, is hit as predator leaps to attack.  He never saw it coming.

I relate to the prey, often unaware that a beast hides in the shadows. He detects, more than I, my vulnerability and my doubt. He waits for it, then feeds on it.

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HIS Hand Reached Out for Me!


DAY 26 (Read Day 1 “OK, Honey. Challenge Accepted!” Post)

Air heavy with chill, weighted darkness, a child afraid

Naively innocent, need of love, was I to blame

How was I to know, how could I have seen

The pain that he would cause, when his hand reached out for me.


Years lapse by, tears uninterrupted, never I could find

Unadulterated love for my trust to hide behind

How could he not know, why could he not see

He would shred my soul when his hand reached out for me

Teens problems. Young woman alone at the city

Can I be made whole, Is there hope for me

Do you see me hiding here

Absent then, absent now,

Another turned eye is what I fear


Surging shame, disgrace unlimited, it’s all I have known

Till a prayerful plea, I unleash, “God, please save my soul”

How was I to know, How could I have seen

There’d be healing power when His hand reached out for me


I am healed

I am free

Cause HIS hand reached out for me



When Wounds Run Deep!


DAY 19 (Read Day 1 “OK, Honey. Challenge Accepted!” Post)

“He is definitely sucking his finger,” the dermatologist demanded as he rolled his eyes and wrote something in the chart.

“I am fully aware that you are the professional,” I begin.  Jaw tightened and eyes narrowed I continued, “however, for the 1000th time, I am telling you, my son has never…sucked…his fingers.”  A slammed door behind me, determination erupted to prove this quack wrong.

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