HEART'S CRY

A family moved to our area bringing Operation Christmas Child to our church.  This practical ministry is a blast!  I love thinking of the boy and girl who will get my family and church boxes.  Will this small box give a small bit of hope and joy? Romans 8:24-25  For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. Items for my older boy and girl to go to Operation Christmas: Shoe box plastic container Bar of soap Toothpaste Toothbrush Washcloth Pillowcase Colorful duct tape Squeeze ball Pencils and Colored Pencils Sharpener Small notepad Pens Hammer and nails Screwdriver and screws Sewing kit (Thread, needles, safety pins, buttons, floss) Para-cord Flashlight and batteries Many people struggle this time of year.  Homeless men, women and children or domestic violence victims need a small light and spark of hope.  Let'...

Tell me a story.  Tell the time about...   My kids loved stories when they were little.  (Usually more at bedtime.) One of their favorites was when I would start with a story about the day and mix in a lot of nonsense!   Now, I crave their stories!! Stories.  Everyone has one. Stories are created from moments, experiences and memories of a life.   Stories are full of the spirit of someone else.  Perspective and culture and learning. When we tell or listen to stories, we experience another.  Stories are beautifully textured and complicated works of art created out of a wonderful life.   To me, it is a great honor when someone shares a story with me.  Whether the story teller is 2, 20 or 80.   The story is an open door.  A place. At first the stories open to the entry way.    Soon, stories invite us to the living room and the kitchen table.  Stories make us feel right at h...

Dear boys, I stood in the dark tonight in our place.  You know the one.  The one God carved out just for us. Nestled in a draw between two worlds.  Bringing together past and present and eventually future. While, it was not the land belonging to us we left behind in our coming.  Nor would it ever be ours in ownership.  It is our place. A small piece of land and memory suspended in time in your Mama's mind and heart. Our house and yard tended to be everyone's place.   The church is everyone's place. This...this was just our place.  A place for three boys and their mom. When I am here, on nights like tonight, I miss you more then you can imagine. This place of ours.  Contentment, belonging and longing fill my heart.  The girls' hooves pounding in the night to make their way to freshly thrown hay makes me smile.  I pause and find myself holding my breath.  Maybe time will stand still in this ...