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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