Digging Through the Promise Box: The Third Grace

Digging Through the Promise Box: The Third Grace

It was just a cheap little plastic box, maybe you’ve seen one like it or have one, filled with business-card-sized Scripture cards. Each card held a “promise” from Scripture. I vividly remember, as a young girl, climbing up on my mom’s bed and taking the box from her bedside table into my lap so that I could pull out one card at a time and read those promises. The difference between Scripture’s promises and any other “promise” is the source of the promise. The unfailing God delivers what He promises.

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Why I Love Living in Providence: The Second Grace

Why I Love Living in Providence: The Second Grace

“Can you pray . . . ?” Almost daily, that question flows between my dear friend and me. God providentially knit our hearts together through a series of circumstances that He obviously arranged. I’m in a different season of life, quite a few years ahead of her, but we have more important things in common than age: our love for Christ, our commitment to His Word, and our care for our husbands who both suffer with debilitating nerve pain.

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Whispering This Constantly – the First “Grace”

Whispering This Constantly – the First “Grace”

“It makes no sense” is one of the most frequent statements I hear when people ask about how LeRoy is doing and if there is any improvement in his condition. No, we’ve seen no improvement. Yes, he still suffers with excruciating pain from nerve damage and muscle spasms. Yes, he still needs a great deal of assistance; he’s partially paralyzed due to spinal cord damage. His vision is blurry when he tries to read, his voice and body are weak, and his day revolves around medicine doses and difficult trips from his reclining chair to the bathroom. His life has taken a drastic turn.

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Four Graces That Have Carried Me

Four Graces That Have Carried Me

The sweet smell of pine surrounds me all the way down the lane to the mailbox. The fresh scent is heavier than usual. We had an early morning shower that cooled things down a bit and the clouds are just now giving way to a beaming sun that is baking the pine-needle-carpet, running along both sides of the lane, into an even darker golden brown. I stop to take a deep breath and to worship the Father who is kind enough to provide this moment—this quiet bit of respite and beauty.

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Having a Meltdown with God

Having a Meltdown with God

There are days when it happens. When I just drop to my knees, beside my bed, and let the tears flow—silently. I cry quietly because I don’t want my messy meltdown to disturb my precious husband. But if I’m able to get outside, that meltdown is a bit louder. I don’t yell at God, but pour out the hurt to Him with buckets of tears with blunt statements and appeals. I let Him know how hard it is, how much I long to see healing come, and how very weary my mind and body are.

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The Reward of a Long History With Your Church

The Reward of a Long History With Your Church

This is the post I’ve wanted to write for months. There is so much I want to tell you, but it could not fit in this small space. Instead, I’m going to share only a small bit of what’s on my heart. I want you to know what a privilege it is to be part of a healthy and biblical body, and how grateful we are for our precious church. But what I really want you to know is that longevity matters.

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God’s Invitation to Meet in Sacred Intimacy

God’s Invitation to Meet in Sacred Intimacy

Last week, Revive Our Hearts aired a conversation that I had with Nancy DeMoss Wolgemuth about prayer. This was originally recorded awhile back, before LeRoy’s debilitating illness, but the truths she and I talked about then are even sweeter (and more of a tested reality) today than the day we recorded this program.

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When One Thing Leads to Another

When One Thing Leads to Another

It all started because of my love and concern for my man. It was only the first week in March and I knew something had to be done. Love for my man, and the desire to protect him from a serious threat led me on an adventure I never would’ve chosen. (You’ll need a little background for this story to make sense. Well, even with the background info, this story will probably sound a bit crazy.) We live in the South. And in the South, we have a treacherous enemy every spring, summer, lasting even into the fall. They can be relentless, only hiding out for a few months during the coldest season. I’m talking about a real enemy. Spoiler Alert: If you have a weak stomach, are disgusted by the rigors of rural life, or have a fear of insects . . . you may want to skip this post; it’s definitely a bit off the beaten path for this blog.

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Out of Love for Jesus

Out of Love for Jesus

This is the refrain that answers me when I’m weary and standing in the kitchen again to prepare another meal. Or getting up earlier than my weary body feels it can. Or staring another stack of paperwork in the eye and telling it, “I will conquer you, today!” I love my husband, yes, and I desire to serve him well. But, when the daily grind seems impossible, this refrain reorients my thinking and rebukes my grumbling heart: “Out of love for Jesus . . .” Pressing into a long, hard road requires a love that is greater than earthly love. It is love for Christ that provides the grace to plunge into the hard things.

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The Biggest Challenges of Long-Term Illness

The Biggest Challenges of Long-Term Illness

Someone asked me the other day to summarize some of the challenges of this past year. It’s hard to put that in a blog post. It’s hard to even verbalize, and just the task of writing those things down feels a little daunting, but if I can, I think it might be helpful for others who are walking a similar road to know they are not alone in their painful journey.

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Moving Beyond Number Three

Moving Beyond Number Three

We’ve moved into what seems a new chapter in this journey. For those of you who are new to the blog, let me summarize the past ten months by explaining that much of our life has been consumed by my husband’s physical condition and medical needs. He spent August of 2017 on the neurology floor of an excellent hospital. That wasn’t in our plans, we were actually in the middle of a conference in Prince Edward Isle when he suddenly lost his ability to walk.

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Learning a New Rhythm

Learning a New Rhythm

April slipped by without a word from me here; the blog was silent and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to send you an update. Thank you precious readers who continue to carry us, to pray and intercede for our needs, even when you don’t hear from us. Will you ask the Lord to open a space in my daily schedule for writing (if He still desires for me to minister in that way)? I’m needing to find a new...

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It’s Definitely Not Karma

It’s Definitely Not Karma

It’s understandable that we all want to fit suffering into that little box, that pagan system of “Karma” that explains all illness or tragedy as a result of some wicked or sinful past. The problem with that way of thinking is that it isn’t biblical. At all.

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Experiencing Joy in Sorrow

Experiencing Joy in Sorrow

Joy has a special spot in my bedroom. She sits on the small love seat, looking completely out of her element as the lone “toy” in the room. But I proudly display her because she’s special to me. I doubt I would’ve ever purchased her myself, but a couple of my precious girls (both friends in their teens—one is my niece) brought her back for me from a trip they took to Chicago. They say that I remind them of Joy. Joy sits there and reminds me of them.

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The Peace that Rescues a Fear-Filled Heart

The Peace that Rescues a Fear-Filled Heart

In the first few days after we came home from the three-week hospital stay, I’d be standing in the kitchen (something I do a LOT of these days), either at the stove cooking or at the sink washing away the remains of another meal, and I’d subconsciously feel LeRoy coming up behind me. At least that’s what it seemed like, that I heard, or maybe just “felt” him moving up behind me to give me a hug, or put his hand around my waist, like he’s done a million times. It was just a natural movement in the rhythm of our lives. But then, I’d realize no one was there. I only thought he was walking into the room, like so many times before. But no one was there.

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