Thoughts at week’s end

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You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you! Isaiah 26:3

There is a day set aside for all activity and clamor to cease. Sunday is a day to take a deep breath, look back on the week and breathe a prayer of thanks that God got you through it all. That’s what I did this morning. I think it’s important to have one day singled out where we: “Cease striving and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.”

We live in a loud brash world, and each day it crashes in on us. Yet throughout the workweek there are those moments of peace that come. One night on my way home I was sitting at a stop light waiting for the green, when overhead there came a flock of Canadian geese. I watched as the lead goose took his place at the front. I watched their perfect flight formation and I marveled at how God has created them to do that. What is it about nature that makes us stare in astonishment at times? It’s as if the whole world stops for a moment.

Or maybe that’s just me. Nature has always brought me a strong sense of wonder, but that wonder only creates in me a powerful sense of God Himself. Some people just marvel at nature and stop there. While that is possible, I believe we miss something huge when we don’t then turn that marveling into Worship and Praise to the God who created it all.

How hard is it to imagine eternity when you are standing at the edge of the ocean? I believe God gives us these moments in order to point the way to something even bigger, even more perfect. I can just hear Him say, “If you think there is beauty here, just wait until you see what I have prepared for you in Heaven!

Now, all the noise, all the rushing, all the driving, all the phones are silent.

Today, I receive God again here in the place of pausing. Once again, He has brought me through another challenging week as He always does.

Selah.

Today I fly out to California to see my family. I am looking forward to the moment I see those faces, and one very excited girl……..her “Aunt Nori” is coming.

The Miracle of Belief

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I live and move and believe in a state of Grace, each day. The fact that I believe is a testimony to God’s great mercy and each day I am awed and greatly humbled by that fact. What makes one person believe and strive to live out a faith and another not give it a thought? I have always thought that people usually die just the way they lived unless a miracle happens. We are all born under the same stars but under many different sets of circumstances. I have seen people make it out of unbearable conditions of life and come to belief in God and salvation in Jesus. And I have seen others with seemingly every opportunity crash right through life, leaving all kinds of destruction in their wake and not ever look up and the sky and wonder “who put all that there.”

It’s amazing really.

We went to visit Joyce at the Care Facility yesterday, and it’s always a grim reminder of mortality. Two ladies were sitting out in the patio in 100 hundred plus degrees puffing away on their cigarettes. Both their lips were moving, cigarettes bobbing up and down, spilling ash as they talked. There but for the grace go any of us……….I always find myself praying a lot when I go there and the prayer is just under my breath………”Oh dear Jesus don’t let me live this long.” What I really mean is, “Don’t let me end up in a place like this.” It’s tough to visit, and I can imagine it’s tough to work there too.

But Joyce is blessed, she has a good daughter, a Grace-filled light in the window to come bring her treats, to do things for her that otherwise don’t seem to get done. It’s hard to visit because there is not much conversation to be had anymore, but this is the tough part of a real and living faith.

Who is your light in the window today? We all need to recognize these gifts from God and look up awestruck and thank Him each and every day. His gifts come in all different forms. I pray that I will always be able to see what’s standing right in front of me as His grace…….His love……His mercy.

I have recently restarted Frederick Buechner’s “Listening to Your Life” again. It is a gem of a book……I don’t know how many times I have read through it, but each time I pick it up again I find I’m reading it with new eyes. He is one of the writers I reach for when my feelings are too deep for my own measly words.

Add to that list, Thomas Merton, Henry Nouwen and C.S. Lewis.

A final thought from today’s devotional:

“The idea of the immortality of the soul is based on the experience of man’s indomitable spirit. The idea of the resurrection of the body is based on the experience of God’s unspeakable love.” Frederich Buechner, Sept 2, Listening to Your Life

We are all hurtling toward either Heaven or hell. Jesus said that, not me. Each day there is a new chance to change your direction. “You must warn each other every day, while it is still “today,” so that none of you will be deceived by sin and hardened against God.” Hebrews 3:13

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The Wheat and the Tares

 

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It all started last March when I heard about the two suicides……two young people that couldn’t find any hope that things would get better. One of which was the neighbor of my Aunt, parents finding what was left of her. The beauty and the soul and the perfection that was her life. And then a week later, a phone call. My cousin’s son did the very same thing. In disbelief I almost dropped the phone. To me, there is no sadder horror than that for a parent.

And the recent events in the news, coming one after the other, so much so that we can barely keep track of them all. Planes shot down over Ukraine……a bank robbery, a hostage situation and a highspeed chase on the very street I drove down when I was back home two weeks ago. Bullets flew, hundreds of them. And an innocent bystander coming in to do her banking was caught in the crossfire.

Her daughter waited in the car, then watched horrified as her Mom was used as a shield while they got away. She texted her Dad……”They have Mom.” She didn’t come back.

You would think all this would be reason enough to give up on this life. We live in a world where heaven and hell coexist like the wheat and the tares that thrive side by side. And yet…..

There is poetry and music and art and crowded sidewalks and family and friends, and the smile of a child. And it all adds up to an incredible relentless beauty that tugs at the soul and won’t let go.

I can’t ignore the drops of rain that fall quietly on the pond like a prayer, the relentless beauty that falls all around us on any given day. There is a peace that comes from sitting on a porch with a view that wraps around you.

I can’t account for the joy that beats like wild wings within my chest except that I recognize it as the Holy Spirits quickening because that’s how God is. He shows up.

He permeates the air with His presence especially when it seems all hope is lost forever. He says:

No, it’s not, because I am.

In troubled times we need to gather the ones we love close and get rid of everything else that weighs us down. We need to walk humbly in love and cradle carefully the gift we have from God, and never lose our sense of wonder at the world that was once perfect.

Be surprised each day at what God redeems out of the ashes. Never forget the moment you first believed. He is coming quickly, so my advice is be ready.

Raise your eyes to the Heavens and never lose hope. Remember that even thistles and artichokes yield spectacular blooms.

All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is by his great mercy that we have been born again, because God raised Jesus Christ from the dead. Now we live with great expectation, and we have a priceless inheritance—an inheritance that is kept in heaven for you, pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and decay. And through your faith, God is protecting you by his power until you receive this salvation, which is ready to be revealed on the last day for all to see.

The Me I See

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Sometimes, when I am outside of myself looking in, I see the real me not the one I have imagined or invented. And sometimes I don’t recognize that person talking, smiling, interacting with others. But there is someone else I see, just on the fringe of my consciousness, just outside the ring.

Sometimes she hides in the shadows waiting for me to find her, but sometimes she dances into the light just long enough for me to get a glimpse, then she jumps back, ripples of laughter in her wake.

She beckons me with a wave of her hand and when I finally join her, that other me, the one that happens when I am still, or creating, or caught up in catching the stream of life, or praying, that’s when I get in touch with who I really am. I guess when I lose myself is when I find myself. Jesus said something along the same lines. He said, whoever tries to save His life will lose it and whoever loses His life for His sake will find it.

The real me is the one I find without trying. That’s the me I want to be all the time. The me that’s not afraid to bloom, right there in the open.

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I most like myself when I stop thinking about how others perceive me and just be the me God created. In doing that, I enter into Creation with Him and  agree that His plan is good, and that I am good the way He made me, doing what He created me to do.

That’s when I can almost hear the stars sing.

Living starts to be authentic when we let our masks drop. From ourselves…….from each other……and from God. When we no longer have to be afraid to speak for fear of not being loved. Cradled in the circle of grace…..that’s where we all want to live.

When I stop trying so hard to be what this world wants me to be and be the me that God made, there’s a resurrection that happens. In finding the real me, I discover that I am fearfully and wonderfully made by a God who loves me. Running into myself, I can’t help but collide with God too.

This is what Jesus said about that:

I am the door; if anyone enters through Me, he will be saved, and will go in and out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly. John 10: 9

For he who finds me finds life And obtains favor from the LORD. Proverbs 8:35

Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through Me. John 14:6

When we find Jesus, my friends, we find life the way it was meant to be lived. We find life, hope, truth; everything that has ever or will ever be good. We find it all when we find Him.

Prayer today: Thank you Lord, for loving me, the real me. Help me to see myself the way you see me. Help me to fall in love with me each and every day, for it’s only when I love and accept myself that I can love others the right way. Help me to forgive myself fully every day for failing myself…..You…..others. Help me to love more. Thank you for the joy I find in creating, for it’s where I can find You. Cover everyone in my circle with Your peace and grace today. Bind us together in love, Lord. Amen.

Forty lashes (plus or minus one)

 

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I headed out to my car on break after barely being able to keep my eyes open at my station. I intended to pray a bit, and read a bit, and then hopefully catch 40 winks plus or minus one. The weather for once was cooperating. It had clouded up and I was happy with that. I never like it when it’s bright and sunny on Good Friday. It just doesn’t seem right.

I cranked the seat back and opened the sunroof and to my delight, a few drops of rain, teeny cold and precious drops hit me. I listened as it lightly pelted the car. As I lay there I thought of what I had read earlier……what Jesus went through on the day He died for me. Before He was even crucified.

He got 40 lashes minus one. This was the traditional number, and yet professional killers don’t always use much discretion.There would have been not one, but two Roman legionaries, one on either side, according to my historical sources, who were specially trained to inflict extreme physical suffering without actually causing death. These weren’t just any lashes.

After Jesus was made to kneel, His wrists were bound to the “scourging post.” The wood handled “whip” had three leather straps around 3 feet long, The whipping was so painful that many times people had seizures, threw up or lost consciousness due to blood loss. The bits of bone and metal attached tore through flesh and exposed muscle and inner organs.

There was no pause between blows, and after this Jesus would have been in physical shock.

And yet even that wasn’t enough for them. A crude purple robe was laid over His open wounds which probably reached down to His calves, and a crown of thorns dug into His already bruised and battered face. Normally He would have had to carry the 50-70 pound cross beam to His own crucifixion but He was too badly beaten for that.

As the soldiers led him away, they seized Simon from Cyrene, who was on his way in from the country, and put the cross on him and made him carry it behind Jesus. Luke 23:26

Those who saw “The Passion of the Christ” might have thought that Mel Gibson was laying on the gore a bit thick, but those who have researched the subject know that it was bad, so bad that people could barely look on Jesus as He was led down to Golgotha.

Just as there were many who were appalled at him — his appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any human being and his form marred beyond human likeness–Isaiah 52:14

As I lay there in the car with my eyes wide open, thinking about all Jesus went through for us, I wondered if maybe it isn’t necessary or healthy to dwell on this part. After all, it happened, it’s done. Jesus is glorified, resurrected and in His rightful place back home with His Father in glory.

And yet, I can’t not think about it. And each year, I am aghast and apalled all over again at how terrible and how wonderful it is. I marvel at a God who would go to such lengths to save me.

I marvel at a God who loves me so much it kills Him.

 

Something about a garden

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Now the LORD God had planted a garden in the east, in Eden; and there he put the man he had formed……Genesis 2:8

There is something about a garden whether big or small, intricate or humble that infuses us with hope. Even the birds seem to know it. Yesterday after E. had restructured the watering system and dug up all the old dirt she sowed the seed that will produce fresh tomatoes and watermelon and fresh spinach and okra. Yes okra. This Yankee girl has fallen in love with the slimy vegetable that seems to be the red-headed stepchild of the vegetable world to hear others talk. I believe it’s all how you cook it. Douse it with a bit of flour and cornmeal and fry it up hot and summer comes to life.

After the bubblers were turned on and everything was in good working order, the dove promptly hopped down between the furrows and started drinking from the fresh drips. It was almost like a confirmation that yes, this is a very good thing.

Gardening in the desert is a particular challenge which makes the victory all that much sweeter when you start to see those shoots pushing up through the ground that you’ve so carefully cultivated. The artichoke plants on the side of the house are flourishing. As of yet, no artichokes…….but if last year is any indication there will be more than we can eat.

This morning I went out and opened up the umbrella and had my coffee at the table. I arranged the gnome in his corner of the garden where he will keep watch….with his surfboard. He has a long wait for waves here in the desert. But he still hopes. A bit of my Aunt Esther also rests there in the form of a garden angel, a duplicate which E. made of the one she always had in her garden, which she loved. When I look at that angel, I think of her coming in after picking tomatoes, sweat rolling down her face which was easily as red as the tomatoes themselves.

When you think about it, gardens are our heritage, handed down to us by God himself, the Master Gardener. Sitting by the garden I feel my roots, it’s a bit like coming home again.  I think about my Grandma and Grandpa who could grow anything……I wonder if they ever imagined me as they sowed those seeds. My Grandpa’s favorite hymn was “In the Garden.” I think of him strolling along in the early morning hours, He and Jesus. I like to think he prayed for me.  I can see him now, sitting in God’s own garden, surrounded by eternal light.

As I sit here in this place, I feel his prayers. The earth waits in anticipation, now all we need is time. Someday I’ll join him, but until then I will visualize him here in this little place. He, and everyone who has ever planted a seed in hope of a harvest.

A garden is the hope of salvation, a resting place and a promise of better things to come.

The Lord will surely comfort Zion and will look with compassion on all her ruins; he will make her deserts like Eden, her wastelands like the garden of the Lord. Joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the sound of singing. Isaiah 51:3

 

Hope with a big “H”

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We sat there, all of us potential jurors. There were about 100 of us who drew the short straws, whose group was not ticked off the list. I sat with my Kleenex and stuffy nose and heard others hack and cough. There was one loud talker, as it seems there always is. He sat in the front row and we heard his whole life story told to the hapless man next to him. Maybe it started with a comment, and that was all it took to throw open the gateway of conversation, albeit one-sided. But that was okay, he gave us all something to listen to as the minutes ticked by.

The clerk came in and we all watched a video about what an honor it is to serve on a jury. And really, it is. And yes, I do take it for granted. We all do. I complained about going, I got up early on my day off. I put makeup on, selected a nice outfit and drove the 30 minutes to a small town east of me. A depressing town, really. The main source of work are the several prisons there. Yet on the perimeter of my heart the question taunted me, haunted me really. What if it was someone I loved on trail? What if it was me? What if there were no one to stand for you? What if you were innocent? What if you weren’t?

When we finally got up to the courtroom they began the selection process. One by one names were called. Down to the last 26. I wasn’t among them. The rest of us sighed almost collectively when the last name was called. Now began the questions. We weren’t off the hook yet. We all sat through several rounds of questions given to the 26 selected. A few were eliminated, so three more names were called from our group to replace them. Still wasn’t me.

Then came questions from prosecution……then defense.

We heard stories, lots of them from the prospective jurors. Things came out. One woman found it hard to talk when she was asked if she had ever known anyone personally who had been arrested. She had to put a restraining order out on her abusive husband. And he came for her and held her at gunpoint. The SWAT team had to be called. I could tell it all came back to her…….all that heartache.

What I came away with was this:

All this procedure for a theft. And yes, it is right. It is just. It is how we do things in our country. It’s how we do justice.

But for many in other countries, and this one too, there is no justice at all. I am thinking about the African Bloggers today. I am thinking of the things they have seen over there. The people they have met. Where is the justice for all those children who have no parents. Who stood for them when their parents were mercilessly killed? Who stands for them now? Where is the justice for the 1,000,000 who were murdered? Who will stand up for them? Well, I can tell you there are people who stand for them now, who want to make a difference, who are making a difference. Read about one such group right here. Read all their updates, I know you will be moved.

Someone has given these precious children in Africa Hope. Hope with a big “H.” For the first time in their lives, they have a heritage. They have a family.They know that someone cares very much what happened to their parents, for He was watching, and He will never forget. And when He hands out justice, it will be swift. It will be right. It will be final.

Someone is also giving them Hope so they in turn can give that Hope to others. Now they know they have a Dad who is so big that He can swallow up all the sorrow they ever held. For good.

There are all kinds of unfair things that happen everyday. Maybe you are one to whom life has been very unfair. I can tell you one thing that will make a big difference if you accept it. There was one very unfair thing that happened around 2000 years ago. The King of Kings willingly died a criminal death. He was put on a trial that wasn’t even a real trial. There was no jury selection of His peers. You would have had to call down Angels for that. Yes, God Himself was there, and the Holy Spirit was uttering the few Words He would say then. But no words could have ever saved Him.

He died so that we might have the justice that we don’t deserve. He died and rose again so that we might receive new life and a new heritage. And life with Him forever for in a perfect world, a world very unlike this one. Read Romans 5:6-10

Amidst the turbulence and heartache everywhere, there is One who embodies Hope. That’s our story, that’s our message. Blogging and writing is our way of holding up the light of Jesus to a weary world who needs Him more than ever.

Bring Him into your daily mess. Nothing scares Him.

Photo source: http://worldhelp.net/missionaries-build-cathedrals-not-strip-malls/

Ushering in Advent

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It is December first and I wake early, in the dark. Still trying to shake off remnants of the work week, I get up for a couple of Advil and head back to bed, breathing a still prayer in the silence. The last three hours of work were stressful yesterday and the shadows of it still crouched in my mind, refusing to dislodge. And yet, I have three days off and I am aglow with the ushering in of Advent.

Be still my soul. Prepare ye the way of the Lord, for though He has already come, and gone and come again with the gift of His Spirit, (He never went away) I celebrate His coming all over again.

In these still hours, my mind feels close to You.

Heal it Lord, wrap it in Your balm of peace.

Erase the cares and worries of the week

with Your healing touch.

Prepare me for Your Advent…….

It’s God with us, still.

Always and forever.

Behold, I show you a mystery: We shall not all sleep; but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. 1 Corinthians 15:51

Today is a gift. Let the celebrations begin, for it’s time to light the house, play Handel’s Messiah, and do all the things we only do this time of year. For He is worthy of a party. And the miracle just never, ever gets old.

Just As I Am……

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“How then will they call on Him in whom they have not believed? How will they believe in Him whom they have not heard? And how will they hear without a preacher?” Romans 10:14

I felt like I was time-traveling as I sat and watched the recent Billy Graham telecast, My Hope. It was that voice that brought it all back. Suddenly it was the 1970’s again, and I was in my early teens. Somewhere out there were still hippies and leftover flower children. Nixon might have declared the war in Vietnam over, but it still went on, over there and over here. But I was young and times were simple, peaceful in the evangelical world I grew up in.

The seventies brought modern translations of the Bible like “The “Good News for Modern Man” and the revolutionary,”The Way.” The old guard at my Baptist church didn’t approve. According to them, only the King James version was acceptible to God. And Jesus wore pin-striped suits. Yeah.

Those were the years of “Campus Crusade for Christ” and “Up with People”

We read spellbound about how gang member Nicky Cruz was brought to Christ by David Wilkerson’s fearless witness.

The Hiding Place movie came out, the story of what happened to Corrie Ten Boom’s family during the Holocaust.

And I am sitting in my Grandma’s warm kitchen watching the ORU singing group, the World Action Singers on her black and white set. She had an open line to the Prayer Tower and she was fond of both Oral Roberts and Ronald Reagan. Their pictures were scotch-taped in strategic places on her walls. In her broken German accent she could never master Oral’s name, instead it came out something like “Earlen B. Robbins.”

We watched Billy Graham crusades every time they came on TV.

I remembered the line he always said right before he gave the invitation to do that something bold.

That something bold was to step out of your seat and make your way to the aisle to start that trembling, wobbly, floating on your feet walk down the aisle to make a public declaration of your faith.

His message has never varied, it was always and only the Cross. Billy saw no need to fancy it up, to change with the times because he knew its message is timeless.

It’s what was known as the Altar Call. Some churches still have them. I remember the line from every crusade I ever watched. What Billy always said was, “Everyone that Jesus called he called publicly.” He always said it with a grand sweep of his arm as only he could say it.

Once, Billy Graham’s team came to my hometown and held a crusade at our festival grounds. He wasn’t there but another speaker was. All these years later I can still see his face, Lane Adams was his name. I knew by the end of that crusade that I would make that walk down my own church aisle the next Sunday.

I was fourteen and It was the best decision I ever made.

Then there was the time we all went to an actual crusade. I will never forget it. It was a hot, sweltering night in California’s beautiful capital city of Sacramento. We had to walk for what seemed like miles.

And I saw him from far, far away, and heard him speak. And it was powerful. A singer sang that night and I remember thinking, who is that girl and why does she have two first names? The singer was a young Sandy Patti. She was unknown then, but she went on to win Grammy’s and Dove awards. And she still has one of the finest voices you will ever hear.

And then Billy’s closing statements, and there was a hush as people fidgeted in the heat, shifting positions. And then the opening bar of “Just As I Am……” I can still hear the rustling of all that movement. A sea of people rose from all directions and just kept coming. It seemed there might be more up front than out in the crowd. I’ll never forget it.

My last church had an altar call, but I haven’t been to a service where they had one in a long while. Now it’s the declaration of “eyes closed, and heads bowed and a wave of the hand.” Somehow that doesn’t work for me. It’s just not the same. To me, it’s the most Holy moment of church and it brings us all closer together.

For how can we celebrate as a church family if we don’t even know it happened?

How can we acknowledge it when it happens behind closed doors?

For everyone Jesus called, He called publicly.

And He said unto them, “Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.” Matthew 4:19

Church on the Mountain

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“And when He had taken a cup and given thanks, He gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you; for this is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for forgiveness of sins. But I say to you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in My Father’s kingdom.” Matthew 26:27-29

“I have an idea!” She said. “Let’s have church on the mountain tomorrow.”

“Excellent!” I said…….”Let’s do it, and we’ll have communion up there too!”

When you are between churches like we are right now, sometimes you have to be creative, leave a little room for the Spirit to work. So this morning, I packed it all together in my camera bag. Cranberry juice and oyster crackers stood in place of the bread and wine.

On the way up the trail, nestled in my bag, I heard them clink together softly and I smiled to myself.

Jesus and I had a secret.

I paused by a Joshua Tree, remembering the words I had read earlier that morning about how they pushed the cruel crown of thorns down on His brow until it bled in rivers down His face. God’s face.

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As we got to the top, I paused to let a family come down. Their two little boys were very loud and I was ready for the quiet, for the moment to pause and remember. I waited for E to join me. She had to backtrack because she was talking to a lady hiking with her dog and got side-tracked and missed the turn for Huff and Puff.

We scrambled over rocks and carefully picked our way to the top and I jostled around looking for a flat place to set up. As I presented the heart-shaped doily and stemmed glasses, she laughed. “I should have known!”

Nothing is too good for Jesus, after all.

It was a bit windy, so she held onto the glasses while I aimed for the shot. This was our view.

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While they were eating, Jesus took some bread, and after a blessing, He broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is My body.” Matthew 26:26

There on the mountain, we each settled with our elements in hand, having lost only a little a splash of juice and a few crackers that had rolled down the mountain. I didn’t even need to find the verses in my iPhone because the words were already in her heart, and they sprang free, flowing out like rivers of living water as she lifted her glass:

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The words come naturally to one whose life has truly been changed. No rehearsal is necessary.

“Do this,” He said. “As a remembrance.”

The lady on the trail had asked if we were sisters. E told her yes, sisters of the best possible kind.

Soul sisters. Kindred spirits. Sisters of the heart. Sisters in Christ.

“For where two or three gather together as my followers,I am there among them.” Matthew 18:20