Tag: Devotionals

Spinning My Tires

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Around and Around

It should have been a banner year. How many people get to be authors? And have an article published in a print magazine? And get to work at a job they love? How many parents see their children and grandchildren living solid lives of faith and hope?

  • This year I had the honor of working with my daughter Grace, who, by the way, is the best office assistant/publicist ever.
  • I had the joy of seeing our youngest son get his own place and grow in a job he loves.
  • I celebrated when our eldest granddaughter was accepted into the college of her choice.
  • I joined my beloved family for a nine-day trip to my favorite Pacific beach and attended my first Hot August Nights car show in my hometown.
  • My precious husband and I celebrated forty-two years of marriage with a two-day trip to the Big Town, where we got our Cabela’s fix and my husband finally bought a buffalo picture. He’s maintained for years that a log home needs a buffalo pic. I maintained otherwise. We finally agreed on one that would nicely grace the upstairs hall at the top of the stairs. At a vintage lamp shop downtown, I bought my first Quoizel Tiffany lamp, something I’d been coveting  for several years.
  • The ancient mint and green carpet in our house is giving way to a handsome porcelain slate tile that will hold up better to country living, wheels, and our son’s German Shepherd/cross dog.
  • I’ve been able to share our story and God’s comfort with others through my writing and speaking. My first book, Song in the Night, recently was re-released in e-book form. I’ve met and re-connected with many wonderful people and heard inspiring stories of faith across this country.
  • I even learned how to use Google+ Hangouts to make a video presentation at a virtual caregiving conference, no small feat for a sixty-year-old woman who still struggles with the t.v. remote.

Yes, 2014 should have been a great year. In fact, it has been. And for that I’m eternally grateful to my Savior.

So why did I lose steam mid-summer? Why did I feel like I was spinning my wheels?

Mostly, I think, it was because in the midst of everything else, I am, first, a caregiver. Everything that I do comes after and along with my caregiving duties. Simple things like a trip to town involve a a lot of work and planning.

Every step is hard work. Every victory comes with much warfare. The joys have been interwoven with sorrow.

We lost Aaron’s beloved mother in January; my dear uncle in July. Kevin had an infection and sternum injury in May. He received emergency care during our coastal trip and again back at home. My father endured a hard winter of medical struggles. Then I suffered a severe lumbar strain and was completely out of commission for a few weeks. The family had to take up the slack in the daily chores.

It was during that time down in bed that I finally could stop. The enforced rest gave me a chance to re-think what I’ve been doing and what I want to achieve. One thing I know for sure:

I never want to be spinning my wheels on this journey. I want to listen carefully to God and only go where He guides. That may not mean a smoother ride. In fact, that may only increase the warfare in my soul and on the home front.  The road to Zion is narrow and often filled with detours. I’m thankful to be on this trip, though. My destination is assured; a room in God’s mansion is already reserved for me heaven. It’s just a matter of staying on course, listening for God’s guidance, and remembering to enjoy the view along the way.

I will not spin my tires.
I will not spin my tires.
I will not spin my tires.

Photo courtesy Kevin Thorson/copyright 2014

An Idaho Christmas

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Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body; and be thankful.
-Colossians 3:15

Hello, Christmas…

Another Idaho winter has descended upon us.

In my neck of the woods, that means a little snow and a lot of gray days. But leave the river valley in any direction, and you’ll soon be skating on icy roads and snow. On the weekends it also means the occasional pop of birdshot as a Duck Dynasty wannabe wanders around the river road below us looking for an easy dinner.

It’s unnerving to look out the window and see a gun pointed my way.

Ah.

Christmas in Idaho.

It’s five days after Thanksgiving, and I’m feeling inadequate as my exuberant Facebook friends display their freshly decorated trees and trade Christmas recipes online.  In our log cabin, the only hints that Christmas is coming are a lovely poinsettia from my daughter-law, one Christmas card, and the meager pile of unwrapped presents I’ve bought for the annual family celebration.

My husband has hopefully set the decorations out in his shop in what may be a hint. I have yet to even venture out to take a look at them. I usually love Christmas, but this one has been dampened by the suffering of someone I love.

I worry. I fret. I give in to the  gloom.

Then I remember.

This is why He came.

Let heaven and nature sing!

Two thousand years ago, the world was much the same. Except it was a world without hope. This Christmas, we can be ruled by the Christ of peace, the Lord who delivered us from the futility of a life without Him.

In Jesus, Christmas dissolves into Thanks Giving and every day is a celebration. Our hearts are no longer controlled by either minor daily irritations or devastating loss. Until the day we see the magnitude of His victory, we ride out the highs and lows and choose to rejoice.

He rules the earth. Let heaven and nature sing: Joy to the world.

Maybe I should take a look at those decorations.

Breath of God

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The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it,

but do not know where it comes from and where it is going;

so is everyone who is born of the Spirit.

– John 3:8

This is the air I breathe,
This is the air I breathe,
Your Holy Presence, living in me.
-Marie Barnett

Sunday morning arrives in fine form. I’m in fine form, too. Dressed in my best Sunday clothes, I negotiate the thirty-minute drive to church with my favorite Christian band belting out “I’m awake, I’m alive” over the car speakers.

I slip into my usual spot near the back of the church and am soon joined by dear friends. The worship team begins to play and my heart leaps to the music. Joy infuses me as I give myself to join the voices raised to our Creator. Soon, the pastor challenges the congregation with a message from the Bible. I can feel God moving my heart in renewal. I know the Holy Spirit is there.

It wasn’t long ago I was in a different place as events beyond my control sucked the life out of me. I was frustrated and took it out on those around me. I wasn’t feeling holy or calm or civil. I longed for the comfort of the Spirit, but I couldn’t feel Him near.

Had I angered Him and made Him leave me? Was He powerless, busy, or uninterested? Or had He just deserted me?

Who Is the Holy Stranger Who Lives in Us?

The Holy Spirit is probably the least understood of that Godhead we call the Trinity.  Sometimes He is referred to as a force, a fad, or an “it.” And yet the Scriptures reveal a wealth of information about Him.

The Greek term for the Spirit of God is pneuma, or “breath.” He is, however, anything but a mere stirring of air. The Bible describes Him as a powerful and pure personality. Within these verses, we discover this about Him:

  • He is a real person, referred to by such pronouns as “He,” “Whom,” and “Who.”

Luke 4:18; John 7:39; 15:26; 16:7-14; Acts 5:3; Ephesians 1:13-14

  • He is the vital third Person of the Triune God.

Matthew 12:31-32; 28:19; Mark 3:29; Acts 5:3,4; 1 Corinthians 2:11

  • He is eternal and glorious.

Hebrews 9:14; 1 Peter 4:14

  • He speaks to and through mankind.

Matthew 10:20; Mark 13:11; John 16:13; Acts 4:25; 13:2; 20:23; 21:11; 28:25; Hebrews 3:7; 10:15; Revelation 2:7

  • He is the Lifegiver.

Matthew 1:18; John 3:8; Romans 8:11

  • He is our helper and teacher.

John 14:26; 15:26; Hebrews 9:8

  • He can be grieved.

Ephesians 4:30

The Holy Spirit is not a thing. He is someone who can speak, be lied to, is grieved. He feels deep pain, great joy, and intense concern for us. He loves us enough to live with our mercurial human emotions. He cares enough to stay with us through the hopeless nights. He is sealed in His believers – for better or for worse.

What kind of a God leaves a throne to live in a clay house? What does He hope to accomplish by being here on earth?

Next Tuesday: What’s He Here For?

photo courtesy Erik Thorson/copyright 2013

What’s in YOUR Heart?

 

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And I will give them one heart, and put a new spirit within them.
And I will take the heart of stone out of their flesh and give them a heart of flesh.
-Ezekiel 11:19

Our Heart, the Deepest Place

Anyone who’s taken even freshman biology can probably remember what’s in our hearts: mostly blood, muscle, chambers, and valves. But the heart is also a euphemism for the place where our innermost man lives. It’s the seat of our emotions and the chamber of our most secret desires. The Hebrew word for heart in the Old Testament also denotes the deepest place inside us, the room we rarely reveal to others.

It’s the place we rarely unveil even to ourselves.

The things that proceed out of the mouth come from the heart, and those defile the man.
For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornications, thefts, false witness, slanders.
-Matthew 15:18-19

The heart is the real us. That can be frightening if we’re honest enough to take a good look inside. It’s so scary we often craft a careful wall of excuses and religious piety to cover our real motives. We may fool ourselves and others, but there is One from whom we can never hide.

The heart is more deceitful than all else
And is desperately sick;
Who can understand it?
I, the LORD, search the heart.
-Jeremiah 17:9-10

It’s a sobering thing to know God searches my heart. I know what’s in there. I don’t even like me when I look inside. It is beyond me that God, knowing what my heart clutches within its walls, still pursues me to gain that fickle devil for His own. He knows the state of my inner man, and He wants me anyway.

For God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance,
but the LORD looks at the heart.
– 1 Samuel 16:7

Throughout history, God has always reached for the heart of His creation. The Bible tells us:

For God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.
– 1 Samuel 16:7

God wants our whole hearts – dirt, pain, and all. He loves us, not for what we give or do, but for what we are to Him. When we respond to this love and surrender to Him, He goes to work. He alone can cleanse, purify, and restore us.

It’s this work that changes from the inside out. It’s not about reforming ourselves. That will never happen. It it were about doing everything right, none of us could stand.

Even God’s beloved King David committed two terrible sins: adultery and murder. Although he was severely disciplined for his actions, God later called him a man after His own heart.

How could that be?

With All Your Heart

David was flawed, to be sure. But he ran after God with all that within him. When he fell, he cried out for forgiveness. He sought to be reconciled to God. He surrendered his life to his King.

Jesus told humanity:

YOU SHALL LOVE THE LORD GOD WITH ALL YOUR
HEART,
AND WITH ALL YOUR
SOUL,
AND WITH ALL YOUR
MIND.
This is the great and foremost commandment.
-Matthew 22:37-38

This is the great commandment. If we love Him with all that is within us, He will do the rest.

Although David couldn’t trust his own heart, he could entrust it to a faithful Father. David came to understand this one thing: It’s about what’s in our hearts.

It’s about what’s in His.

What They Didn’t Tell Us

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Until our nineteen-year-old son broke his neck in a fall in the summer of 1997, we knew little about spinal cord injuries. His break was very high, and the chance of his survival was bleak. Since he was injured during a trip to Canada and we live in the United States, it was a difficult journey to join him at the hospital. When we were able to get to his bedside, we found him totally paralyzed from the neck down and attached to life support.

Grim-faced doctors told us the many challenges Kevin faced:

  • He would never breathe or move again below his neck or possibly his shoulders.
  • He would need round-the-clock care.
  • He would certainly suffer from a host of complications such as pneumonia, blood clots, and urinary tract infections.
  • He could never live at home again. He couldn’t even return to the United States because no airline would accept him in his condition, no doctor would sign to receive him, no medical team would accompany him on the flight, and the cost to fly him home would be prohibitive.
  • He could not stay in Canada.

For our son, and for us, the situation seemed hopeless. One doctor was angry when we resisted a push for euthanasia.

What most of the doctors didn’t tell us was that their predictions weren’t written in stone. Yes, Kevin did suffer from pneumonia in the beginning weeks. Urinary tract infections have been a continuing challenge for Kevin. And yes, he needs round-the-clock care.

But none of the rest of it happened.

People, churches, and organizations in Canada soon learned of his injuries and rallied to his cause. Within a week, Kevin was flown back to the United States in a chartered Lear jet, accompanied by a volunteer medical team – the entire cost paid by donations.

He was received into a hospital close to home and later released to a rehabilitation hospital.

As his body came out of spinal shock, he began to regain function and feeling, stunning the doctors and therapists. This healing would continue for several years.

What no one told us was that one day Kevin would breathe again on his own, walk with help, and return home to rebuild his life. Although he remains mostly disabled, he has movement and feeling in most of his body. He only uses the ventilator at night to sleep.

In the years since his injury, he has built a computer 3-D graphics studio with his brother and founded a popular Christian music website. He lives each day with faith and trust and without complaint.

No one told us that caring for him would bring us such joy. No one explained how much his life would enrich us, or how much we would learn about courage in the process. Certainly these years have been hard. But when I see Kevin laughing and chasing his nieces around in his wheelchair, or taking his dog for a walk, or working with press agents and music companies and complicated animation software, I am reminded of all the beauty they never told me to expect.

They never told us to have hope.

When the Path Gets Rocky

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We all stumble in many ways. – James 3:2

It was another hot August day. I was working outside and feeling increasingly irritated in the oppression of the afternoon heat. A hint of smoke from some distant wildfire loitered menacingly in the breeze. Alarmed, I paused to scan the sky for the dreaded pillar that signaled another threat to our home – a yearly occurrence. I saw none. But the brown hills looked the way I felt: tinder dry; brittle; apt to erupt in spontaneous combustion.

The project I was working on with my husband hit a snag. Instantly, we were at odds. It seemed to be happening a lot lately. I stormed away from the argument and grabbed the car keys, using the excuse of needing to pick up the mail as an opportunity to cool off. I cranked the car air conditioner up along with some of my favorite Christian music and headed to the post office.

There was only one letter in the box. The envelope was addressed to “The Wonderful Kevin Thorson and Family.” A pang of guilt shot through me. Kevin was fine, but the “Family” wasn’t feeling too wonderful that day.

My drive did cool me off, but I had to face the fact that I couldn’t blame my attitude on external factors. Why was I stumbling so often lately? What was I missing?

This moment happened several years ago, and now I can identify some of the factors leading up to my meltdown. Some are changeable; some aren’t. But I’m convinced it is less about external factors and more about internal pressures that afflict us all.

So how can we keep on our feet when our path is strewn with unavoidable pitfalls? How do we respond when we find ourselves face down in the dirt? As my daily scrapes and bumps have revealed to me, there are some vital strategies for staying sane:

*Don’t ignore the warning signs. When I’m feeling irritable, it might be lack of sleep, illness, or just the fact I’m letting things get to me. When the red flags pop up, it’s time for a little openness and brokenness with God.

*Make Bible reading as important as eating that next meal. Don’t lean on past knowledge or a set of principles to guide us through the minefield. It’s like using an outdated map to find a new city. God’s Word is active, living, and a well-worn Scripture can jump out at the precise moment it’s needed to save the day. We have to allow God to speak to us if we’re going to avoid the pits.

*Keep alert. Our enemy, Satan, is constantly on the prowl. Don’t get complacent.

*Know our limits. And don’t stray beyond them.

*Think beyond the event to its source. What causes us to lose our cool? Why do we react to certain pressures and how can we defuse those situations?

*Pray actively and constantly. It doesn’t take a “quiet time” to talk to God. Stay on the line with Him all day long. Pray on the fly, in the car, in the bathroom if you must. Be honest and be sure to listen.

*Remember we are just dust encasing a soul. We’re going to fail. We need to forgive ourselves and learn from our mistakes.

Yes, we’re going to fall along the way on our journey. We can, however, learn from our mistakes. God knows we’re prone to failure, but He does’t want us to fail. He wants to give us light for our path and bring us safely to the destination He has planned for us.

In fact, He’s just waiting for us on the path, if we choose to let Him lead the way.

 

The Yoke in My Head

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Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me,
for I am gentle and humble in heart,
and YOU WILL FIND REST FOR YOUR SOULS.
For my yoke is easy and My burden is light.
-Matthew 11:29-30

The sun was a fiery ball in the bay sky. A splendid dinner of  barbecued steaks, prawns, and all the good things that go with such a meal sat contentedly in our  stomachs as we gathered on the deck. A friendly wager rested on the exact moment the sun would slip behind the ocean’s vast horizon.

We were enjoying the last hours of an awesome family vacation, our first since our son was injured sixteen years ago. It was a gift from a cherished cousin and her husband, and one that was more needed than I could ever truly express.

My cousin couldn’t know just how raw my soul was.

I have long struggled with Jesus’ words in Matthew 11:29-30. I always understood He was speaking of allowing Him to carry our burdens for us. I just never could reconcile that with the reality of my life. We raised five children, with all its attending joys and cares. I educated all five of them at home, a daunting task at any time, but especially so after our son was injured.

After his spinal cord injury in 1997, we were told caring for him at home would be “impossible.” I had to add “accomplishing the impossible” to my to-do list for each day.

Then circumstances required I return to school and become a licensed practical nurse. In my spare time, after I’ve done the impossible for the day.

Now I am an author, with its attending responsibilities.

Most of these things I have made peace with and even found joy in their midst. Then, lately, a crisis in my extended family descended upon us. The pressure has been nearly unbearable for me. It has been a crushing yoke, permeating my thought life and consuming my days.

The vacation came just in time. At the beach, I was not available to solve a single problem. It wasn’t that trouble wasn’t happening; I simply could not solve anything until I returned home.

The freedom in my brain was exhilarating. In this rarefied air I made a startling discovery:

The yoke Jesus wants me to give up is the one in my head.

He never told us life wouldn’t be hard. In fact, He promised us a life of trial as His disciples. But that wasn’t the yoke He was talking about. He wants to relieve the burdens my soul is carrying.

I thought I already knew this. In principle I understood He wanted me to give Him my life and my problems. And I have always tried to trust God.  What I didn’t realize was how much I worry-think about things all day long. I have been yoked to my thought life, mentally pulling a heavy cart of burdens. It was only when I was unstrapped from them that I realized how much life they stole from me.

We returned after our vacation to new and intimidating challenges here at home. But I am determined to live at the beach. I left that heavy, old yoke in the foaming tide at sunset. I am actively learning to stop whenever I catch myself falling back into old thought patterns of worry and analyzing and trying to sort out the complexities assaulting us. I still have to work, but I don’t have to turn over my soul to it.

If you want to reach me, I will be here.

But my heart is at the beach.

To Kill the Longing

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We inched down the winding mountain pass toward the ocean, smothered in a thick fog. After ten hours on the road through a fierce thunderstorm, our nerves were frayed. We rounded a curve and our headlights caught a raccoon in the middle of our lane.

The light dissolved his eyes into a watery green glow. He reared up in hapless defiance and raised his little paws as if to fend us off.

My husband swerved, barely missing.

So far, it was the most positive thing that had happened on the trip.

It was our first real family vacation in sixteen years. A generous cousin offered us the use of their beachfront rental for a week on the Oregon coast. Knowing a trip of that length would test our ability to travel with Kevin’s extensive medical needs, we planned as carefully as we could.

Then the week before the trip, The Resistance began. Aaron’s mother had a medical emergency and was ordered by her doctor to go immediately into an assisted living center. The family was inundated with a myriad details to get her moved within a few days.

The day before we left, we were still taking care of her issues while trying to pack. That night, there was a thunderstorm, taking out the power for two hours. Since Kevin sleeps on a ventilator at night, we had to switch his equipment over to emergency power and watch to make sure he was okay.

We left the next day after a few hours of sleep. Immediately out of the driveway, our nearly new van flashed a warning light. We spent an hour in town getting it checked out.

Back on the road again, we watched an ominous storm gather around us. It descended in earnest over the Columbia Gorge. A gale slammed us sidelong and threatened to blow us off the road. Lightning hit so close we actually had to try to keep from touching anything metal inside the van. Thunder boomed above our heads.

We hit Portland during rush hour. “Margie,” our little GPS guide, taunted us by commanding us to crisscross between lanes of heavy traffic. We turned her off and found our own way.

We finally made it to the coastal highway, only to be hit with a heavy rain. As we inched down the winding mountain pass, we were wrapped in a heavy fog.

We arrived at our lovely beach house shaken but unhurt. Our son and daughter-in-law arrived a few hours later, telling much the same story.

“It felt like something out of ‘This Present Darkness,’ ” my daughter-in-law mentioned.

Bingo.

All the time I thought it was just me. The warfare was so intense, it was insane. It didn’t make sense.

My first thought was, “It’s not like it was a Billy Graham Crusade. Why should the devil care that we’re going on vacation?”

Before the week was over, however, I realized why the battle to get there was so fierce. It was a truly blessed time. We played together and prayed together. God spoke to us in the Christian music, the fellowship, the laughter, and the peace. We stood on the beach and listened to the sea. We watched the sun set the water on fire every evening and gloried in the blaze as it sank into the horizon.

I got to see my beloved extended family again. We swapped family stories and laughed and cried until it hurt so good.

In Brazil they use the phrase “Matar saudades.” It literally means, “to kill the longing.” For sixteen years, we have lived in the valley of the shadow. Life has been hard. Many of the simple joys have gone by the wayside as we struggled to make it through each day. For the most part, we’ve adjusted to our new normal and submitted to the discipline it takes to keep Kevin healthy.

We’ve learned to accept hardship as our path. We didn’t expect to encounter something so extravagant, so rich, so abundant. To be blessed with such generosity. To be alive just for the fun of it. To kick sand in the face of loss.

Now I know why it was such a struggle to get here. This was more than a vacation. We came to kill the longing.

 

Photo courtesy Grace Thorson 

 

Recently I had the honor of being featured in an interview with author Aaron Gansky. Check out the interview at http://aarongansky.com/author-spotlight-pamela-thorson/.

Sight Unseen

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We walk by faith, not by sight.
2 Corinthians 5:7

One year our sons received an atomic clock for their office wall. They took it out of the box and showed us how it set itself to exactly the right time for our time zone. As they held the clock up, the hands moved around the face as if by magic, setting themselves to the command of a radio signal sent out from Colorado. 

I was suitably impressed. I didn’t know people could buy clocks that set themselves by radio signal.  

But it shouldn’t have seemed so bizarre. Every day I sit at the computer and take for granted that the images and sounds coming to me have been beamed down from a satellite in space. If I stand outside next to our satellite dish, however, I will see no pictures or sounds moving through the sky. They all exist on a bandwidth my senses can’t pick up until the signals are converted by machines. 

Though I can’t see the signals floating in space, I have no doubt they are there, because I see the images and sounds they produce on my television and computer.We all operate by this same principle daily, accepting what we don’t see, because we see its effects. 

Electricity, for example, can’t be seen by the human eye; yet it is powerful, even deadly. We have learned to respect its power and harness its energy for our use. The wind operates in much the same way -invisible, strong, and real. If I stand outside, I can feel its presence; if the wind blows down a tree, I can see its effects. 

Just try to tell someone electricity and wind don’t exist.

Yet we question the existence of God merely because we have never seen Him. As we accept wind, electricity, and radio waves because we know what they do, we can accept His existence because we can see His power at work all around us. We see His creation, we feel His presence, and we experience the effect He has on our lives as we operate in His Spirit.

We are finite beings, created with limits. There are dimensions we can’t discern with our physical senses because we were not created with that ability. But there is so much more that lies beyond our eyes. It is a world beyond our dreams, revealed through God’s Spirit.

We look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen;
for the things which are seen are temporal,
but the things which are not seen are eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:18

The world we can see is full of uncertainty. But we can walk through it with courage, knowing this world is not all there is. The Lord Jesus Christ left one dimension to enter ours. He purchased, with great cost, a secure future in a dimension more real than the one we call our home. One day it will be revealed to us in all its glory. 

For now, we accept it – sight unseen.  

You are Invited

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If you’re reading this today, you’re alive.

Maybe you don’t feel that way.  Instead, you’re barely holding on. You feel numb, unworthy of God’s love.

It’s especially easy to feel that way if you’re one of the thousands of people suffering from chronic disease or devastating injury. Perhaps you’re one of the millions of people who care for them. Either way, you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have what most would call a “normal” life.

Boy, have I been there.

Our son’s spinal cord injury in 1997 plunged him into the world of disability and dumped me into the world of caregiving. I quickly learned that the fight for life is as primal as it gets.

It’s a lonely trip. It’s an honor. It’s a tightrope walk between the two stretched over a chasm of uncertainty.

Today I’ve served more than two decades as a caregiver. Every step of the journey, God has held us, even when I didn’t know He was there. His comfort has been the golden oil sustaining me through every trial. He has taught me to relish each day I can breathe and think and worship my Creator.

Rejoicing in the Lord always.

Trusting in a faithful Father for tomorrow.

Life is a gift, an invitation to a very special party. Let’s treasure what we have this moment and believe God will keep eternity safe for us, for the day when the lame walk and God dries our tear-stained faces.

That day’s coming. Until then, we will conquer whatever comes, together. No matter what you’re going through right now, you can be assured you are never, ever alone. You’re important to God, and you’re important to me.

You’re alive. You’re safe. You’re precious in His sight. 

That’s worth singing about. Come on, join the celebration!

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