Letters of Grace

 “Help lift others’ troubles and burdens.” ~ Galatians 6:2

She was barely 21 when she left her Oregon home to join the U.S. Army Nurse Corps in 1970. Claire wasn’t rugged, brash, or courageous. She sobbed when they chopped off her long auburn hair, each lock falling like a piece of the girl she once was.

But when her brother returned from Vietnam in a flag-draped coffin, grief rewired her heart. “I want to help other boys get back home,” she whispered through tears after telling her parents of her enlistment in 1969.

Vietnam welcomed her with the harsh realities of war. She reported for duty at the 71st Evac Hospital in Pleiku, which also served as the main terminal for U.S. military supplies. Hospitals were often located near supply depots and, thus, targets for enemy fire. Explosions punctured the nights, generators faltered, and surgeons worked with whatever tools they had left.

Combat nurses like Claire were scheduled for 6, 12-hour days, though their shifts might last a full day or longer. Despite the chaotic and arduous pace, Claire’s morale remained high due to the camaraderie and appreciation of the patients.

Too often, though, healing arrived too late. Some died within minutes. Others hung on just long enough to whisper their final words. Names. Confessions. One last “Tell her I love her” as hopes crumpled.

After each brutal shift, she’d sit on a cot, refusing to let their dying wishes perish. Pen trembling, Claire wrote letters to the deceased’s family. Not official reports. Not empty condolences. A bridge, however fragile, between a soldier’s last heartbeat and the people who would mourn it. Expecting no response, she signed them: “From someone who was there when they needed it most.”

During wartime, some become legends for charging into fire or leading battalions. Claire brought a small gesture of kindness. Throughout her 18-month deployment, she wrote 127 such letters. Each one a tender lifeline just warm enough to heal, not harm.

Decades later, Claire Bennett visited the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in the nation’s capital. Her fingertips drifted across the polished black marble when a silver-haired woman approached slowly, clutching a weathered envelope.

“My God! You must be Claire, right? I remember your picture from researching military records.”

Claire’s brain stuttered for a moment while her thoughts strained to catch up. She nodded.

From a badly worn envelope, the woman removed one of Claire’s letters. “My son died in 1970,” she said, voice trembling. “You didn’t know me, but you saved me. Your lovely letter brought me comfort and kept me breathing.” Claire felt the world soften.

There’s something about giving of ourselves that makes our hearts blaze brighter. We’ve all faced life, not on calm seas, but in storms that would have shattered us. But the kindness of others stitched us back together and reminds us that hope can be borrowed when our own empties out.

Loving God, teach me to love with Your courage and compassion every day. Let my life speak the truth louder than my speech. May kindness become my signature, written boldly across each day. Amen

Graciously Chosen

“God chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in His eyes. ~ Ephesians 1:4

They lined up like soldiers awaiting bullets instead of dodgeballs. Nine-year-old Kyle stared at his sneakers. They suddenly seemed more interesting than the looming humiliation. As captains began picking their teams, each name sliced off another piece of Kyle’s pride. Please, not last (again).

The proverbial benchwarmer, Kyle, excelled at math and science. His athletic skills were far less noteworthy. God didn’t work His magic today; the NBA wouldn’t be scouting Kyle anytime soon, unless they needed a human traffic cone.

Years spun by. His academic prowess led him into electrical engineering, where he designed circuits for NASA’s outer space endeavors. Kyle’s work helped send robotic spacecraft to the moon’s surface, stepping stones to Neil Armstrong’s famous leap.

The boy, once picked dead last, placed first in a race measured in moondust and megahertz.

One day, a neighbor invited him to join a pickup basketball game at the park. Kyle was skeptical. “You mean, I’d actually play?” he questioned.

Mark looked puzzled. “Of course,” he said. “Why else would I ask you to join us?”

Kyle considered the offer. Though he’d been jogging a little, he had no real idea how to play basketball. But curiosity sidelined fear. Why not give it a try, he thought.

Kyle spent the entire game running erratically around the court, never touching the ball. He didn’t care, and no one else seemed bothered either. Nobody laughed. Nobody pointed. His skills barely improved, but his self-confidence soared, and he made friends.

Yet, the old shame lingered, a bruise that never fully healed. He wished he could rewrite his early chapters for those athletically challenged, who stood sidelined, wishing and shrinking.

After retiring, Kyle wandered into the world of elementary recess. He watched tiny prodigies, the travel-team dynamos who ruled the blacktop. The quiet ones, who moved like he had done, hugged the fence, invisible.

So, he launched his own “Benchwarmers League.” The first week, eight kids showed up, wide-eyed and hopeful. Kyle split them into two teams. No pep talk. No drills. Just a ball, a court, and permission to play.

Each week for 12 weeks, the kids returned, drawn by acceptance rather than skill. Kyle noticed them standing taller, laughing more, and bonding closer. Their minor athletic improvements didn’t matter half as much as the joy he saw in their faces. He’d been chosen by His Creator for a role crafted perfectly for him.

Our God chooses us, too. Not for our glowing résumés or highlight reels. Not because, in His eyes, we shine brighter than others. His choice is rooted in His love, His reign, and His heart. Kinda like Kyle looked at his band of misfit round-ballers. God definitely wants us on His Team!

Almighty Father, we too often keep score in cruel ways. Thank You for choosing me. My salvation rests not on talent or achievement, but on Your unshakable grace. No matter the labels describing me, I know that I’m Yours, and that’s enough. Amen

Bulleye

 “When you did it to one of My flock, you did it to Me!” ~ Matthew 25:40

Howie carried two identities that should never coexist – one claimed him an inmate; the other now granted him passage as a chaplain. The Alger Correctional Facility, infamous for outbreaks of violence, had kept him inside its walls for twenty-two years of a thirty-year sentence.

He now walked those same corridors holding keys instead of shackles. His face bore the rough geography of past mistakes. His eyes held the kind of wisdom forged under pressure.

He led a ministry in that place of damaged souls, telling stories that cracked open even the coldest hearts. Ordinary objects became parables in his hands. When Brother Howie spoke of mercy, even men who claimed boredom leaned closer, wary of hope yet hungry for it.

Justin, #M185379, entered the session with a scowl clinging like a second skin. Raised in a church pew, lost to the streets. He had chased the wrong applause, traded innocence for self-indulgence, until violence penned the final sentence on his freedom. Jealousy and rage swarmed his heart like hornets trapped under glass.

When he entered the conference room, his gaze fixed on a large target hanging on the wall and a table scattered with darts. This could be interesting, he thought; a welcome outlet from the poison thrashing inside him.

Howie handed out blank paper and told the prisoners to draw a picture of someone who’d wronged and stoked anger in them. Then they could aim and fire.

One drew a guy’s face who stole his girl. Another drew an ex-friend with great detail, including scars and tattoos. Justin grinned at his own portrait: a guard whose smug smirk haunted him.

A line formed quickly. Darts flew. Paper shredded. Wrath found a transient target. #M185379’s anticipation festered before time betrayed him. Howie called everyone back to their seats before Justin could throw a single dart. He’d lost

Resentment flared as he clenched the useless darts. He missed the satisfaction of impact.

Howie walked to the target and tugged it free from its pins. The raucous men fell silent.

Hidden beneath was a portrait of Jesus. Torn. Punctured. Eyes mutilated.

No words necessary. No dramatic sermon. Howie only spoke the ancient words from Matthew 25:40 (above). “When you show kindness to the most vulnerable, you’re offering the same to Me.” Then he dismissed them.

The phrase "the darts of jealousy and hatred" evokes a powerful image of the destructive emotions hurled like sharp, painful projectiles. These emotions wound far more than their targets. They vandalize God’s reflection on others and bruise the spirit who launches the punch. They fracture connections, sabotage growth, and impede our spiritual growth for a lifetime.

A prayer lingered in the stillness when inmates returned to their cells:

Lord of mercy, lift the weight of bitterness from our chests. Heal the jealousy that distorts our vision. Teach us contentment in Your love and gratitude for Your gifts. Shape our hearts into instruments of peace. Amen.

The Narrow Gate

 “The gateway to God’s Kingdom is difficult; only a few will find it. ~ Matthew 7:13-14

More than 50 years later, the only test score that Booker remembered from middle school was 34. Like most 7^th graders, he had no idea what he wanted to do in life yet. His goal was simply getting through school and surviving the long walk home.

He waited nervously as Mr. Bales returned the graded final exams. The math test had been terribly difficult. There were questions he didn’t know; some he didn’t even understand. His heart pounded like the thundering hooves of a thousand feral mustangs.

As Bales dramatically dropped each student’s test on their desks, Booker heard groans and even a few tears. The grades weren’t looking good. As he picked up the stapled pages on his desk, he glanced with horror at the large score circled in red for emphasis. His grade – 34. 68%. FAIL!

He flipped the test over. It wasn’t something he wanted his classmates to see. Please God, let the grading scale be merciful.

Bales stood behind the well-worn desk and addressed his deflated students. “Your grades were awful, no one passed! I’ll be forced to grade on a curve since the highest score was only 34.”

Those were the final words Booker remembered. A 34 - he had the highest grade in the class. Suddenly, his abysmal test score didn’t look so bad. There were at least 30 kids in the class with lower scores than his.

He walked home that day, five decades ago, with the failing test score but passing grade safely tucked away in his bookbag. Booker’s Mom immediately asked: “How’d you do on the test, son?”

“I made a 34,” he replied cautiously.

Her expression changed from an inviting smile to one of disappointment. Booker knew he had to explain fast. “But Mom, I got the best grade in the class,” he stated boastfully.

His Mom replied emphatically: “34/50 is not a passing grade. I don’t care how everyone else did. It doesn’t matter that you were the best failure in the class! What matters is your lack of preparation,” she scolded.

That harsh judgment had remained with him ever since. As a father of two small boys himself, he now understood why. Hope is not a strategy, success only comes from intentional hard work.

We often don’t understand the wisdom of good parenting until we stand in their shoes. His Mom’s values carried him to great success throughout life.

The crowd often goes the wrong way. That path is wide and crowded. Victory’s road is narrow and barely occupied. For Christians, the way to eternal life is restricted to just one avenue – Christ. There’s no other way because He alone is “the way, the truth, and the life.” (John 14:6)

Almighty Father, thank You that Your grace can save us and have the promise of eternal life with You in Heaven. Help me choose to follow the narrow path of disciplined, faithful discipleship, which leads to abundant life here on earth. Amen

Strangers No More

 “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none.” ~ Luke 3:11

Thanks to their medical team, a calling from God, and an answered prayer, two strangers are now forever linked – both physically and spiritually.

Elaine’s husband, Daniel, had chronic kidney disease. He spent a year on peritoneal dialysis followed by 3 years on hemodialysis. When his kidney function dropped below 20 percent, the couple began researching transplant facilities.

Elaine was willing to donate, but sadly, she wasn’t a match. Luckily, a well-matched kidney became available from a deceased donor. Daniel’s health improved dramatically after receiving the kidney.

Grateful for their good fortune, Elaine attended a revival at the local Baptist Church in Roanoke. A nurse with almost 32 years of experience, Elaine recognized the signs of dialysis instantly as Evangelist Bryan Janes rose from his wheelchair and preached fervently about trusting God’s plan.

Weak and jaundiced,  Janes was still preaching and traveling. Humbled to tears, Elaine recalled the toll dialysis had taken on her husband and their livelihood.

She’d never met this man. “I remember thinking, hmm, should I? What are the chances? What have I got to lose? Somebody else will do it.” Little did she know then that the Lord was already working on her in that pivotal moment.

She’d once been mentally prepared to donate a kidney and decided she still wanted to. The Lord whom she admired was calling her. She trusted Him and knew He’d care for her. Hesitation never crossed her mind.

After intense screening, her prayers were answered. This time, she was a match.

Things moved quickly. Both surgeries went perfectly. Surprised by how exhausted she was over the next few weeks, Elaine experienced very little pain.

Both Bryan and Elaine credit the Heavenly Father for a connection that profoundly changed each of their lives.

“When people tell me that what I did was amazing or heroic, I don’t know what to say. As a palliative nurse, I’ve always been deeply invested in improving my patients’ quality of life,” Elaine said. “To be able to so directly impact Bryan’s life was an amazing gift for me.”

As for Bryan, “When Christ died for my sins, He gave me eternal life. That’s the greatest gift of all. But second to that has to be another chance at physical life, especially from a living donor that I’d never met. That’s a huge ask! I’m going to use it for what God has called me to do!”

Many think that an organ transplant is only an end-of-life decision, but it’s not. Research shows that recipients of organs from living donors have better outcomes than those who receive organs from deceased donors. Nearly 90,000 people in the U.S. are currently waiting for a kidney transplant (11 will die each day waiting for one). Getting a kidney from a living donor eliminates that wait.

Father God, we pray that the Holy Spirit would lead just the right person(s) to further explore live kidney donation as service to You. And be blessed way beyond what they could ever imagine! Amen

The Piano Lesson

 “Don’t look back, lengthen your stride, and press toward the goal." ~ Philippians 3:13-14

By the time Ignacy Paderewski began his first American concert tour, he was already a European celebrity. Audiences in Vienna, Paris, and London had witnessed his virtuosic piano recitals, which often extended to hour-long encores, as he interpreted works by Chopin, Liszt, and Bach.

It seemed only natural that the red carpet would be rolled out for him in America. As the story unfolded that evening in a New York City concert hall, a mother and young son took their seats near the stage to witness Paderewski’s first U.S. tour event.

She hoped the live concert would encourage her son to continue the piano lessons with which he’d been struggling. Once situated, the mother spotted a close friend in the crowd and walked back up the aisle to greet her.

Kurt, a shy, very polite 7-year-old, was awestruck at the sight of the glimmering Steinway grand piano standing alone in a single spotlight on the stage. He’d never seen anything more beautiful.

Seizing the opportunity to explore the wonders of the concert hall without supervision, the curious boy rose and wandered past an unlocked door until he found himself backstage. The kid was awestruck by the beautiful instrument standing before him.

The house lights dimmed as the concert was about to begin. The mother returned to her seat and discovered that her son was missing just as the curtains parted.

Everyone turned their attention to the impressive Steinway… and the unknown child pianist, plunking keys to a simple tune with one finger, seated on its bench.

The horrified Mom rushed toward the platform just as Paderewski himself appeared on stage.

The Grand Master sat beside the boy and whispered in his ear, "Don't quit; keep playing!" As the little boy continued to play, Paderewski began to fill in the bass part with his left hand.

With his right arm around the boy, he added a running obbligato. The unlikely duet instantly captivated the audience. Paderewski had transformed a frightening situation into a wonderfully creative experience.

I wasn’t able to confirm this story’s authenticity, but so what! There’s a lesson in it for all of us.

That’s the way God works.

What we accomplish by ourselves is barely noteworthy. We try our best, but the results don’t flood the chamber with melodious, joyful sounds. With help from the Master’s hand, however, our life’s work truly can be magical, a soulful blessing to others.

Our willingness to become more intimate with God will enable us to sense His presence above the chaos of our lives. So, the next time you attempt great feats, listen carefully until the Heavenly Master whispers in your ear: “Don’t give up. Keep trying.” Feel His loving arms around you. Know with certainty that comforting hands are delicately playing the concerto of your life.

Teacher Lord, Lord, I’m so grateful to be a part of Your divine symphony. And though it may be an insignificant part, I’ll take it, use it, and perfect it so that we might make beautiful music together. Amen

Hope Givers

 “With faith as small as a mustard seed, you can move a mountain.” ~ Matthew 17:20

He entered the world in a home so poor, they didn’t have the 10 rupees (10 cents) customarily given to the midwife who delivered him. The oldest of 5 siblings gave Matthew a unique empathy for other children’s pain, never noticing his own disadvantaged circumstances.

In 1960, at age 24, he launched a missionary career in northwestern India with just a single $25 donation. The donor, co-founder of Campus Crusade for Christ, said of Matthew Thomas: “He possessed a deep and abiding compassion for India’s poor and abandoned kids.”

Affectionately known as "Papa," Thomas founded Hopegivers International, determined to fulfill his vision of helping the poor, the orphans, and the widows with the love of Christ. Today, over 40,000 churches and nearly 100 bible colleges have opened. The ministry also includes 61 orphanages, a hospital, several medical clinics, and it prints literature in five Indian languages.

None of that came easy, though.

Papa and his colleagues regularly suffered threats, beatings, torture, and unlawful imprisonment from Hindu and Muslim extremists. Anti-Christian groups offered large bounties for the capture and beheading of Thomas and his son. Cruel radicals even cut off water and electricity to orphanages run by Hopegivers.

Tertullian (160 AD - 240 AD) once said, “The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.”

Dr. Thomas, admired for his personal compassion for those considered "the least of these," died from natural causes in 2010. The Hopegivers' mission continues under his son Samuel’s leadership.

History has recorded many martyrs who didn’t die preaching from hillsides to the masses, yet who committed their lives because their faith compelled them to engage others for Christ’s sake. The word martyr rightly applies to Dr. Thomas, who was targeted because his Christian convictions encouraged followers to speak publicly, prophetically, and fearlessly.

Likewise, Charlie Kirk should be remembered as a martyr. His activism was a direct outpouring of his devotion to Christ and the Scriptures. His blood bears testimony.

Free speech is under siege. For some, following Christ with boldness carries a cost, even in America. Christian enemies despise biblical values. Our greatest adversaries aren’t merely foreign nations, but poisonous philosophies - secularism, moral relativism, and radical leftism.

Charlie Kirk was, at his core, a Christian disciple whose faith shaped everything he said and did. He consistently reminded audiences that America’s future depends on returning to biblical truth. He insisted that freedom comes not from government, but from God’s grace and declared that a culture without Christ cannot endure.

For those reasons, he drew vile political opposition and hatred from those who loathe Christianity.

If Charlie Kirk’s death means anything, it reminds us that, from his spilled blood, God will raise thousands more like him. Over time, even small acts of faith become the witness that sustains families, communities, and even churches.

Lord Almighty, help me trust You to exercise the faith I already have. Because You live in me, You can do more with a mustard seed than I can imagine. Amen

Quiet After the Storm

 “Jesus rebuked the winds and sea, and they became perfectly calm." ~ Matthew 8:26

Shari found her favorite viewing spot as the rising sun spread a golden blaze across the lake. The air felt oddly silent this morning, as if the entire universe were holding its breath. Even normally animated songbirds had stopped singing and returned to their nests.

When the temperature changed, a line of menacing clouds appeared behind the horizon. The cool breeze quickened, a subtle reminder that the stillness would soon give way to frenzy. Reflective waters rippled into energetic waves.

Shari quickly dashed back into the cabin and narrowly avoided the first plump raindrops. She couldn’t help but wonder at the contradictory peace that signaled looming weather havoc.

Gazing through the picture window, the storm presented an opportunity to reflect on the life’s challenges she’d endured. They, too, snuck up on her without warning, leaving her bruised and desperate for relief.

In retrospect, she recognized that peaceful periods had often preceded the trying times. They served as anchors, providing the clarity and strength needed to confront the storms that followed.

The first raindrops that fell provided a subtle cue that change often begins with a single step, a single decision, and a purposeful direction. Meaning how we respond to obstacles, whether with resistance or acceptance, can influence the trajectory of our recovery.

After opening a grim letter from the bank, or the results of a medical test, or facing a conversation she’d been avoiding, Shari eventually faced the tempest in her mind with an intimidating battle cry, refusing to give up. If done courageously, something strange happens. Despite the fury, she detected a decisive rhythm, a feeling of purpose, a call for action.

Eventually, the rain ceased, and the sky began to clear. The air was clean, the ground well-fed. The storm was gone, leaving behind a sense of revitalization.

For Shari, all the horrible luck, stress, shame, and loss began a retreat, revealing a changed outlook and outcome. Her world survived the upheaval, and she’d risen stronger and more vibrant. The financial distress caused her to budget more frugally. The illness taught her to relax. The conversation she initiated helped her discover that she’s absolutely worthy of love.”

The storm came because it was exactly what she needed.

The calm before our storm reminds us that we can withstand disruptive challenges, find strength in the stillness, and welcome change with an open heart. It’s a metaphor for the pauses that occur in our lives, allowing us to think, refocus, and prepare. No storm is insurmountable. Each has the possibility for development, rebirth, and change.

The sun appeared from behind the clouds, casting its reassuring glow again. Shari took the wisdom gained from the calm after the storm with her, confidence that would lead her through life’s ever-changing landscape.

Lord Almighty, teach me to trust in You so that when the unexpected storms of life come, I will expect peace, knowing that You are near, You hear my cries, and You are with me and for me. Amen

Fostering Love

 “Jesus took the children in His arms and blessed them." ~ Mark 10:16

At thirty years old, divorce seemed the only way Lamont Thomas, from Buffalo, NY could be himself again, breathe again. He felt little remorse and was anxious to move on.  

With a poverty rate significantly higher than the national average, and nearly 40% of Buffalo’s children living in poverty, the custodial father of two watched many of his friends’ kids being taken from their parents and consigned to the public childcare system.

He asked his two biological children, Anthony and LaMonica, if they would mind sharing their home with other kids who desperately needed a place to live and a family. They readily agreed. Lamont got certified and became a foster parent.

His first foster kid was Michael Perez in 2001. Over the next 15 years, he fostered more than 30 additional children, all as a single parent, to make a difference in every life.

Over the years, his youngsters grew into adults, and for the first time, he was alone again in a quiet house. He tried filling his time with fishing and some traveling, but that didn't last for long.

When the retired caterer learned that five siblings, all under the age of 6, were about to be permanently split up, God’s call was too powerful to ignore.

They’d been temporarily separated in four different homes in four different cities for more than a year already.

Siblings in foster care often get placed in separate homes, which furthers their trauma by bringing on emotional anxiety, guilt, and grief. In many cases, siblings also lose contact with one another when separated. Lamont fought to ensure this sibling group would have a different story.

The adoption ceremony was a festive affair. Thomas and his new sons were clad in dapper suits, while his adorable daughters wore matching satin dresses and tiaras. The courtroom erupted in boisterous applause as the judge announced that Zendaya (5), Jamel (4) Nakia (3), Major (2), and Michaela (1) had been officially adopted.

Sometimes the most extraordinary heroes are hiding in ordinary homes on ordinary streets. They just have extraordinary hearts. Now this incredible man is father to 12 children – 10 adopted and 2 biological. And five siblings finally have what every child deserves: a chance to grow up together.

Over 400,000 children are currently in foster care across the country. Without people like Thomas in their lives, foster children are much more likely to struggle in life. A quarter will end up homeless. Twenty-seven (27) percent of males and 10 percent of females will spend time in prison at least once. Thank God for people like Lamont who make a difference in the lives of vulnerable children who need their love and help the most.

Gracious and loving Father, we pray for inspiration and strength for the foster parents within our communities. Give them understanding, patience, and grace as they offer a chance for children to live a better life than they were born into. Amen

Autumn's Serenade

 “Grasses wither and flowers fade, but God’s Word endures forever.” ~ Isaiah 40:8

Just a few days ago, the Earth experienced the Autumnal Equinox. On September 22^nd, the sun shone directly on the equator; both hemispheres experienced 12 hours of daylight.

Autumn has always been my favorite season - a strange mixture of nostalgia, blessings, and potential. My thoughts turn to scarlet and gold, cooler nights, and flannel shirts. They evoke fond memories of fall sports, raking leaves, and picking apples.

I close my eyes and allow a gentle breeze to tousle my hair, breathing in God’s autumn fragrance, as if our Divine Editor had taken a shift change. It’s a season filled with so much to be grateful for: autumn festivals, seasonal flavors, and outdoor adventures. The joy of snuggling up with a good book on the sofa with a hot cup of coffee and my sweet puppy is hard to beat.

Autumn is an excellent time to reflect on the year's accomplishments and plan for new beginnings. Bears enter a deep, inactive state to survive winter. Squirrels stockpile acorns, and trees shed their leaves, giving them a healthy start in the spring.

It's the perfect time for me to do some of the same!

We marvel at the magic of autumn’s vivid canvas of color and applaud nature’s wardrobe change. Yet we humans tend to resist change.

While some changes invite desired new beginnings, other changes may overwhelm, even bring sadness. Yet as I ponder both desired and unwanted changes in my life, the transformation of stale, uninspired routines often inspire positive behavioral outcomes.

When I watch leaves drift gently from their branches, I marvel at how easily they let go. At just the right time, they release and float to the ground. Trees' sacrifice of their leaves in the Fall reveals more of God’s wisdom. Shedding their leaves conserves energy and water, making room for new growth in the Spring.

Clinging to old ways of doing things and refusing to remove poor habits keeps us from embracing life fully. Autumn reminds us to trust God while releasing past bad behaviors and expectations, allowing God to nourish new growth in us.

Autumn reminds us that God is always near. Seasons come and go, but God remains consistent. During times waiting for something extraordinary in our lives, let’s spend time preparing our hearts and renewing our spirits. It’s in our longing that we encounter God.

Let’s also claim autumn’s hues in our lives. Brown holds for us stability, protection, and simplicity. Red excites passion, love, and adventure. Orange offers balance, warmth, and freedom. Finally, magenta brings harmony and purple prompts imagination, deep spirituality, and transformation.

Autumn’s rich hues offer but a glimpse into the richness and diversity God has planned for us. So stay alert for all that matters most.

Father God, as the leaves begin to fall, we’re reminded of all that’s impermanent in our lives. No matter what tomorrow brings, You remain close and constant. Help me to cling to You for all seasons. Amen