Memories of Me


I walked into my mother’s old home and, amid the smell of must and dust, I boarded a time machine that would transport me back decades in a matter of moments. childhood-memories

First stop, my childhood bedroom. I reached deep into the closet and right back into history. My memory has always been sketchy at best, but laying my hands on fragments of my past brought a flood of memories of a happy and hopeful little girl that loved to make people laugh and smile. One that loved to play music, to draw and, yes, write.  It was nice to see her again.  

Not that I’ve changed that much in the past five decades. Sure, I’m older and–I hope–wiser, but I still have the same overall traits and passions. It is definitely the way God wired me and it was nice to be reminded that nothing, not even the tragedies and hardships that my family endured, could change that.

Yes, the man who took my father’s life when I was just 8 years old is responsible for turning what should have been colorful, beautiful childhood memories into a haze of black and gray; but today God saw to it that I got reintroduced to the good memories created by that happy-go-lucky, tree-climbing, music loving, creative little girl once again. Thank You, God, for giving me this gift. I will never know what might have been had my father been allowed to stay on this earth with us, but I do know that You have always and continue to have my best interest at heart and this little girl of Yours is very thankful.

Thank You for the bright memories and Your promise to always help me live my life in full, living color. I shall never stop pursuing You, Lord, and the purpose for which You created me. That’s my gift to you. I hope you like it.

Amen and Ehmen.

A Bittersweet Love Story


amen and ehmen!

Dear God, as I continue to reflect on this Easter season, I ask that you help the words flow dear godfrom the deepest recesses of my soul, the inner places where You dwell in all Your holiness and righteousness. Thank you for sending Your son and for Him taking on human suffering and death just so that we could live with You forever. I am overwhelmed by Your grace and love for me and, though I am eternally sorry for my sins and shortcomings, I am eternally grateful for Your grace and forgiveness and, most especially, your gift of salvation, wrapped in the arms of Jesus and presented to us freely. All we have to do is believe and accept, both of which I do, wholeheartedly. Thank you, Jesus, for what You endured; for Your obedience to the Father, no matter what; and for making a way for me. May I…

View original post 449 more words

His Call, My Heartbeat


The blank page beckons.blank computer screen

Visual silence.

A blank slate interrupted only by the blink of the cursor.

Blink. Blink. Blink. It’s slow and rhythmic and, for me, thought-provoking.  It’s like the heartbeat of a new creation just waiting to be born.  

No wonder I have such an affinity for the blank page, for it is the platform on which thoughts and words come alive and, if I am lucky, become helpful and provide a positive impact to those who read them. Better yet, they become a tool for the Lord, our God.

Words are my calling. I’ve always had a predisposition for them, but, several years ago, it became evident that writing is a big part of the reason I was put on this earth. Still—though the calling is undeniable and has become almost as important to me as breathing—I still wrestle with it at times as, more often than not, I find myself fighting to find the time and energy to commit to it.

Time or no time, however, it is absolutely impossible to describe the feeling I get when I know that there is something I need to write. It bubbles up from the inside and I am miserable until I finally put it onto paper. And the very, very best part is when someone reaches out to me out of the blue to tell me how something I wrote touched them or inspired and helped them in some way.

This week—a week when I was particularly needing encouragement to find a way to continue, despite my crazy work schedule and other demands of life—three people reached out to me to tell me how God had used something I wrote to speak to them and encourage them in a profound way. What I want them to know is that God also used them to reassure me that I cannot give up on this mantle He himself has placed upon me.

Somehow, some way, I will continue to answer His call. His call, my heartbeat; the blank page, my canvas. Thank you, Jesus, for giving me encouragement through Your Word and through other people. Keep reminding me that what I view as waiting is all part of the process. Write on…

Amen and Ehmen.