A Tree of Memories

 "Those who trust the Lord will find new strength and soar high like eagles." – Isaiah 40:31

Dale knelt in the soft spring soil, small hands caked with mud, his heart pounding with the kind of excitement only a child knows. That Arbor Day, he’d planted a fragile sapling in the park, whispering a prayer over the baby leaves: “Grow strong and live long,” hoping its life would outlast his own footsteps.

Decades later, Dale returned to the park with his great-grandson, Brian. The little boy skipped ahead, pointing out squirrels and flowers, his laughter echoing through  the trees. Dale scanned the landscape for a familiar trunk, but its memory had been swallowed by time.

Nothing looked familiar. Around him, immense oaks rose like ancient sentinels, their gnarled roots twisting into the earth, branches forming a cathedral of emerald shadows.  

Dale rubbed his eyes, sadness softening him. “How could these trees be so old? Where’s my tree?”

His legs felt heavy. He peered at every trunk, searching for a sign, a scar, or a bend in a branch he might recognize. But everything felt foreign. The disappointment wasn't just about a tree; it was the fear that the seeds he’d planted—his work, his prayers, his love—had simply been buried by the decades.

Then, a burst of laughter shattered the gloom.

Dale spun around. There, above him, perched on a sturdy, sun-drenched limb, Brian sat grinning. “Is this your tree?” Brian called down, as if daring Dale to hope.

The old man approached the tree. It wasn't one of the ancient, somber giants. It was a tree in its prime—vibrant, its leaves shimmering in sunlight. As Dale pressed his weathered palms against the bark, a strange warmth surged through him. The texture felt right. "Well," Dale whispered, a smile finally breaking across his face, “maybe it is."

The boy climbed down, and together they circled the trunk.  "It’s awesome," Brian said excitedly.

Dale knelt, his knees creaking, and pulled the boy close. "You know, Brian... God and I planted this tree together."

Brian tilted his head, eyes wide. "God helped you? Like, with a shovel?"

Dale chuckled. "In a way. Every seed we plant, every act of love or faith… He makes it grow. Even when we forget, or the years pass, or the world changes… He remembers. He tends to them. And when the time is right, He gives the shade of that tree to someone else."

As they walked back to the car, Dale glanced back at the tree glowing in the afternoon sun. It stood as a living bridge between his childhood and Brian’s future. Their blessed  tree—his and God’s together— was more than bark and leaves; it was faith, hope, and love made visible, living on far beyond him, in the hearts of those who would follow.

Heavenly Father, thank You for the seeds You plant in our hearts. When the world feels overgrown and we lose our way, remind us that nothing grown in Your name is ever lost. Help me to nurture my life with love. Amen

Sacred Gift

 “I chose you before you formed in the womb; I set you apart for special work.” ~ Jerimiah 1:5

A brilliant late-summer day welcomed Olivia into this world. Her smile was as sweet as a summer strawberry and filled her Mom, Jules, with sunshine she never knew existed. The first time she held her sacred gift, she burst with joy and gratitude, anxious to begin her new life as a mother.

From conception, Jule’s body instinctively shifted, providing essential care to the fetus. Now her nausea, pain, and the plethora of body changes seem almost a distant memory. From this moment, she would do everything in her power to protect and care for her baby, no matter the cost.

Olivia was perfect in every way. It’s the greatest gift God can bestow, a Divine blessing of love to be nurtured. The joy of a firstborn child is universe-altering, bringing a transformative blend of overwhelming bliss, intense love, and a deep sense of purpose.

Although birth isn’t technically considered a miracle, there was one birth in the history of the world that was truly miraculous. Mary, a virgin, conceived Him through the supernatural power of the Holy Spirit.

We imagine Mary clasping her beloved infant and pondering, as all new mothers do, what would become of Him. That tightly swaddled babe must have nuzzled and cooed at His mother’s touch as she gazed into the angelic face and thanked God for Him.

Think too, how Joseph must have assumed his paternal role, loving that tiny tot as his own, taking on the mantle of protector and provider. Jesus would go on to sacrifice His own life for us, wanting nothing more than to have a relationship with us.

Still, it’s an awe-inspiring process as new life comes into existence. The moment Jules and her husband Derek held their newborn created a powerful, unbreakable bond, forever changing their perspective on the world and their priorities.

In a world that can sometimes seem uncertain and chaotic, the birth of a child is a source of hope: hope in the blessings of life and the joys of a new family member. A hope that she reaches her full potential and that her life is lived fully and prolifically. And a hope for the future and how the next generation shapes it.

It compels us to think more deeply about things that matter to us as individuals, as families, and as communities.

A new life doesn't open as a present, with pretty ribbons and comfortable assurances, but more as an adventurous journey with a degree of fog and chill. It takes a brave heart to embrace it, strong feet to travel it, and bold eyes to remain open to its curves and fluctuations. Mothers often get a glimpse of that better than the rest of us do.

Lord, bless this tiny bundle of pure joy. Guard and shield her as she grows. Help this child of Yours know that she is deeply, wholly, and forever loved – by You, and by all of us. Amen

Hands That Give

 “He took the children in His arms, placed His hands on them, and blessed them. ~ Mark 10:

Hands that have prayed, played, worked, and given possess profound beauty. Often, they speak louder than words.

They wipe away tears, soothe sore muscles, and show loving affection. We use them to cook a meal, pick flowers, and repair things. The distal appendages at the ends of our arms, which grasp, manipulate, and communicate, are key to our passion and fulfillment.

They reflect our age, lifestyle, and experiences. Hands tend to age faster than other parts of our bodies. Wrinkles, calluses, and scars, while viewed by some as flaws, can also serve as badges of honor, telling stories of a treasured life.

Angie (52) loved her hands. They taught her children to count: 1, 2, 3, ... on their fingers and thumbs, and also helped them grip the monkey bars at the elementary school playground. Later, she would teach them how to catch a ball properly and give a firm handshake.

As a midwife, Angie’s are the first human hands to touch an unborn child as she guides the baby out of the birth canal during delivery. It’s a special, sacred job.

When labor begins, mothers often require support, prayer, encouragement, and physical presence to endure each contraction. A midwife’s job is to keep the energy in the room positive. She places her hand on the mother’s shoulder and whispers that everything is going perfectly; that she’s safe, respected, and supported.

Then she places her hand on Mom’s chest and begins to breathe and pray with her until her anxiety dissipates, grounding herself through each contraction with intention. In just a few minutes more, a healthy baby is safely born into Angie’s loving hands.

The midwife sees a purity to the infant’s love, given and received. Her eyes are drawn to the baby’s tiny hands, like jellyfish, opening and closing. She knows in that moment, without a word said, that she’s witnessing first-hand God’s precious gift and immediately loves this child like every other.

Despite our hands’ variety and complexity of movements, we usually take them for granted, accepting them as simple mechanical aids. Jesus’ hands were no different, likely rough and calloused from carpentry and stone work.

But His touch was gentle; the Holy Spirit’s power flowed through each finger. He used His hands to heal the sick and marginalized and to multiply food for the hungry masses. They washed the Disciples' feet, illustrating humility and service. Even His nail-pierced hands represent sacrifice for our sins and His unconditional love for us.

Which begs to question: How will I use my hands? Will I use them to write notes of inspiration, to embrace those who are hurting, to provide for my family and church? How will I honor our Father with the work of my hands?

Holy Father, "Use my hands, use my feet, to make Your kingdom come. To the corners of the earth, until Your work is done." (Lyrics of the song "Follow You" by Leeland, sung by Brandon Heath)

Daddy's Hands

 “People’s hands tell much about His work. Jesus’ hands reveal His redemptive work." ~ Zach. 13:6

Incredibly complex and versatile, each human hand features 29 joints, 123 ligaments, 35 muscles, and 27 bones, including an opposable thumb that allows manipulation and grasping. They carry more sensory receptors than any other part of the body.

Emerson put down her Human Physiology textbook for the night, poured herself a glass of wine, and relaxed for the first time in probably a week. Preparing for med school midterms was brutal.

She sat in her father’s decades-old recliner, not even noticing the stained and faded fabric. She caught herself thinking of Ray, who worked two jobs to help pay for her tuition after Mom passed away during her sophomore year. She pictured his hands folded silently in prayer.

Ray wasn’t a big man, but his hands were enormous, like two sledgehammers. They were strong, powerful hands; toughened and heavily calloused from years of construction work. Deeply tanned, they bore the noticeable imprint of hard work. And yet, when she thought of his hands, it wasn’t simply about their size and might that brought grateful tears.

As a kid, Emerson marveled that he could do things that required delicate skills with such large fingers, like fixing small toys, removing slivers, and tugging out baby teeth. Yet, when those massive hands carried her into the ER a few times, she appreciated their strength.

In a way, he showed emotion through his hands. They were welcoming and kind, yet also protective. His were not angry, hurtful hands, but hands that valued, guided, and deeply loved her. They were soft and kind when she cried but firm when she’d done wrong… always with love.

She followed his instructions for the best way to grasp a softball when pitching a ‘riser’ or ‘curve ball.’ She learned how to change a tire, fix a door handle, and rewire a light switch thanks to his hands. They were practical skills but also an opportunity to connect and bond with her Dad as they worked on projects together.

Now that he too had passed, she recalled how he grasped the responsibilities of raising a family and clutched his Christian obligations. Emerson longed for those embracing hands that could drain away the worries of the day and yet simultaneously set her free. His hands were never meant to be avoided but ones to be cherished, like those of Jesus – also a carpenter.

Jesus’ hands broke bread and fed multitudes. They once applied clay to a blind man’s eyes, touched lepers, healed the sick, washed the disciple’s feet, and held children in His arms. These were hands capable of reversing death’s grip. Most importantly, the hands of our Heavenly Father have reached out across time and space to embrace us with the love that only God can give.

Almighty Father, Your hands serve many purposes. Thank you for instructing, commanding, guiding, and warning us. We appreciate all You’ve given freely to us if we simply come by faith to the foot of the cross. Amen

Ridin' the Storm Out

 “Trust God always, pour out your hearts to Him, for He is our refuge." ~ Psalm 62:8

Imagine falling into the middle of Lake Michigan in November wearing a full-length alpine parka. Unless rescued immediately, you might not survive the frigid water and extra weight.

Now, imagine a delicate monarch butterfly searching for nectar in a meadow on a humid July afternoon. Unexpectedly, a fast-moving thunderstorm brings damaging winds, large raindrops, and damaging hail, which presents a severe risk of their demise.

According to Scientific American, the average monarch weighs less than one gram. A raindrop striking a monarch at high speed would be equivalent to humans being pelted by water balloons with twice the weight of bowling balls.

Additionally, overcast skies limit their ability to gather the solar radiation needed to fly. Butterflies can’t fly when temperatures are under 55 degrees, which is why monarch butterflies migrate to southern locations in the winter and others hibernate until warmer weather.

Knocked from the air by raindrops, butterflies face the dual threat of crashing with broken wings and an inability to warm their body enough to take flight.

Butterflies’ wings, while extremely delicate, boast a natural armor of micro-bumps and a wax layer that scatters and minimizes the damage caused by rain. But, when the skies darken, its primary defense favors sheltering to ride out the storm.

Their feet have remarkable grip strength. They cling to the undersides of leaves or inanimate objects like hanging baskets. Tall grasses, rock crevices, hollow trees, caves, and other nocturnal homes also make suitable shelters.

There they ride out the storm by huddling with folded wings until sunlight returns; another of Mother Nature’s brilliant lessons.

Constant battering during the storms in our lives can damage or destroy us, too. A wide range of emotions can leave us soaking in the rain: bitter, angry, confused, vulnerable, hopeless. If you can relate, you might even feel guilty for having them. Life’s turbulent times may cause us to run toward God, but they can cause us to withdraw from Him just as easily.

Like butterflies, we have two choices: get drenched in the rain or seek shelter. We must find ways to rest during our storms, even when rest feels impossible. We need the type of rest that simply lets us relax and feel our emotions. We need rest that rejuvenates us, rest that allows us to let go for just a while. We need the kind of rest only He can consistently provide.

So, lean in and rest in His shelter. Tell Him in prayer how you feel and leave your emotions with Him. As you do, you'll start to feel His nearness, His promise, and His comfort. He loves you and will consistently and constantly be your shelter from all storms.

Lord, hear my prayer; my heart is faint. When there‘s chaos all around me, I know I can depend on You to remain beside me. Thank You for Your loving presence and for sheltering me in every storm. Amen

Diving Faith First

 “We are not of this world because your identity is rooted in Christ." ~ Hebrews 13:14-15

Free diving is similar to scuba but without a tank or gear. You float at the surface, breathe deeply, then hold your breath as you kick downward. It’s deep meditation: trusting your lungs to carry you 30 or 50 meters below. It's also one of the deadliest extreme sports on earth.

Full disclosure – I’ve never been freediving, but after watching a documentary on the subject, it got me thinking about how freediving is deeply woven into my Christian faith.

Without the hiss of a regulator, divers descend among fish close enough to brush fins. Divers observe schooling patterns, predatory chases, and the way sea fans bend with the gentle surge.

Mostly, they listen. The ocean has its own sound: a hum, a subtle vibration. It’s the sound of millions of gallons of water sliding over the ocean floor like a heartbeat.

Diving deeper into Christian faith requires the silence that comes when we’re in prayer with God, disconnected from the internet, TV, and people. By breathing in heaven’s lifeline through reflection, worship, scripture, and other spiritual disciplines, we maintain a connection with a God who’s guiding, sustaining, and embracing us.

The key to freediving is to conserve oxygen by remaining calm amidst intense stress and pressure. Every second underwater without a breath reminds us of the innate discomfort humans feel when a basic necessity is withheld. It’s a powerful metaphor for stepping out of our comfort zones.

Throughout my walk with Christ, I’ve noticed a persistent nudge not only to ditch my “safe place”, but to proceed in new, more challenging ways.

Free diving requires strong swimming skills, cardiovascular endurance, proper relaxation, and a keen understanding of safety protocols. Humans don’t belong underwater; it's not our natural habitat. Neither is this world the real home for followers of Jesus. The Bible verse above says that we are physically present in the world, but not of it, not part of its values.

Freediving is a communion affair. Though most descend into the deep alone, without trusted safety divers, freedivers would be splashing at death’s door. Dangers include blackouts, equipment failures, and entanglement. Divers rely on the buddy system as a safeguard while underwater.

Our spiritual life is no different. Christ came into the world to guide us on our spiritual ascent. When we’re at life’s toughest points, Christ reminds us that we aren’t designed to go it alone. God wired us to live and function in the company of other believers who can encourage us, hold us accountable, and spot dangers before we do.

As Christians, we put our hope and trust in Jesus, realizing that whatever happens in this world, our faith should not be moved, God is ALWAYS in control. Further exploring our faith and the Word of God will keep our hearts and minds focused on The One who sustains us daily.

Our Father, through Christ the living water, we thank you for the lessons learned from freediving, the magnificent ocean, and all who dwell and rely on it. Amen

Restored

 “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion." ~ Philippians 1:6

No one could see what Jackson saw in that old, dilapidated house. It mirrored his own life’s shambles – unemployed, divorced, PTSD.

He saw potential, they couldn’t see past its fractured appearance. They saw rotted siding, chipped paint, falling gutters, and a leaky roof. He envisioned the builder’s original intent – and what that house could be one day with a little work.

Jackson stepped into the run-down home that’d once been a stunning place for a family to live safely. Over time, through neglect and the city’s systemic downfall, it’d fallen into disrepair: filthy, repulsive, and dangerous.

She had some issues but was entitled to them given her decades of decay.

Passerby couldn’t fathom why Jackson worked so hard replacing the roof, windows, and doors. Or why he bothered to sand down the chipped paint.

Despite splinters and muscle strains, he couldn’t stop. The house constantly asked for more – more of his time, money, and energy. He sacrificed hundreds of weekends at the altar of restoration, with endless to-do lists and a love-hate relationship that was addictively alluring.

But he labored on. Jackson knew something others didn’t. He knew how the house had been built and what it was meant to be… because he’d built it.

Restoring it to its original glory reversed the mirror back at him, reflecting new perspectives that he hadn’t considered before: the value of time and money, the importance placed on things new and “improved,” and finally how humble it made him feel.

During its tenure, six families had called it home, filling closets and drawers with their heirlooms, beliefs, and sentiments. Many of those treasures were tender, motivating, and joyful. But there was also clutter metaphorically accrued in their hearts’ darkest spaces - disappointments, regrets, and self-doubt, that robbed them of happiness and purpose in their lives.

It took years, one could even say a lifetime, but eventually, others saw it too. No one recognized the elegant mansion that now replaced the abandoned house. There’s something about being human that longs for, and delights in, seeing something restored.

In the process, he’d learned more about himself and life than he had about replacing gutters.

Upon reflection, Jackson marveled at the comparison between the process of restoring an old house to God's work in his own life. One of the most important considerations in restoration is that as much as possible of the original material must be preserved.

The story reveals how the chaos of rebuilding can result in a beautiful masterpiece, similar to how God can restore a broken person with joy and peace. This points to the redeeming miracles of God’s work as only He can make a broken, ugly world beautiful and whole again.

Lord Almighty, as we navigate the uncertainty of our country’s future, renew our trust that You have a plan for us that brings restoration and renewal in ways that exceed our imagination. Remind us that You are the God of restoration. Amen

Slapstick On Ice

“God said, let the waters teem with life and let birds soar above the earth.” ~ Genesis 1:20

At a little over three feet tall, penguins are slapstick on ice. If you’ve ever seen them in their natural habitat, it’s impossible not to smile. They conjure up an idea of what Buster Keaton, the King of Pratfall, must have looked like. These tuxedo-like birds charm all age groups.

Their familiar waddle, so genuine, so determined, so exaggerated. Then one will slip on the ice, and tip face-first onto the snow. Or one suddenly slaps another with its “wing” and breaks into a shrieking chase.

It makes one wonder about God’s poor design. Their wings are too heavy and small, they can’t fly. Without knees, they can’t bend over. What was God thinking?

Further study shows that His plan was spot on.

Penguins are ten times more aerodynamic than a Porsche Taycan! While they lost the ability to fly millions of years ago, their sleek bodies help make them exceptional swimmers.

When swimming, penguins will leap above the ocean’s surface in an exercise known as porpoising. Tiny air bubbles form on their plumage to reduce friction, allowing them to swim as fast as 20mph.

Penguins catch all their food from the sea. Their superior eyesight enables them to spot prey even in cloudy, dark, or murky water. However, the penguins’ most efficient underwater advantage is a form of underwater flying, using their unique and powerful wings.

Its snappy two-toned coloring (light belly and dark back) is called countershading. Its color pattern blends in with the ocean floor when viewed from above and the sky when viewed from below.

Penguins live in one of the most inhospitable climates on earth with temperatures routinely -70°F. For six long months, the land is cloaked in darkness.

And yet, emperor penguins have learned to thrive there. To combat the lethal cold, they huddle tightly together by the thousands to share body warmth and wind resistance. The unique structure of their layered feathers provides good insulation, waterproofing, and thermoregulation.

God’s perfect plan for the survival of animals can also teach us a few things about human survival.

Tired, worried, and burdened, we’re living through a dark time: the threat of global war, the polarity of our political parties, and a planet careening toward disaster. Penguins are one of the best antidotes for defeat and near despair.

For one thing, it’s almost impossible to feel miserable in the company of penguins. They are invaluable as diversion and consolation. They will almost certainly make you laugh.

Mostly though, God always has a plan when He brings new life amid the harshest conditions. He’s right there every moment with perfect timing. We will thrive, even in the toughest situations, if we stay huddled under God’s safe covering.

Almighty and merciful God, help me to trust in Your divine timing. Let me find peace in the unknown and joy in the journey. Remind me that You are making everything beautiful in its time, even when I can't see it. Amen

Pure Gold

 “Rainbows are God’s reminder of His endless covenant with every living creature.”~ Genesis 9:16

As a child, I became enamored by magical and mystical stories, always hoping they were true. For example, rainbows were God's painted graffiti, random perfection against gloomy skies. After a storm, I’d race my bike towards that seven-colored arch, hoping to find the end with the pot of gold; imagining what I could do with that newfound wealth.

I returned home disappointed every time.

Later I learned that a rainbow is an “optical illusion” only appearing when viewed from the right angle relative to its light source. Its nearly one million colors are impossible to differentiate with the human eye. Instead, we can only see Isaac Newton’s seven hues: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet.

Several weeks ago, a fierce storm passed through, leaving a light, misting rain in its wake. A translucent arc dripping with pigments appeared, hovering gracefully against a vibrant blue palette. Indescribable beauty.

I gazed quizzically out the window. Its artistic banner stretched as open hands reaching into our backyard; a celestial bridge woven with threads of radiant light and dreamlike hues.

I hurried outside. Its magic still lived in my heart.

I’d be lying to you if I denied looking for that elusive pot at either end. But in my pointless search, a thought struck me like a thunderbolt. Rainbows have something better than material riches at the end. They represent the glory of God on Earth.

The rainbow gained popularity in recent years as certain ideological groups adopted it as their official logo. However, God already assigned meaning to this celestial stunner.

The very first mention of a “rainbow” in Western literature can be found in the Bible when God spoke to Noah after the great flood. In Genesis 9, He vowed to restrain His wrath, which must have provided needed reassurance to Noah and his family. It reminded them of His love and care for them, even during the most devastating of times.

The real lesson from the rainbow in my front yard made God’s promise real. Centuries later, we know that rainbows are still a sign of that ancient covenant. Those ethereal arches are meant to remind us of God’s grace, love, and forgiveness – believers and non-believers alike.

The brightest rainbows appear after the darkest storms. When we face a troubling challenge and think everything is upside down, He paints a joy-filled rainbow for us, just like He guided Noah and kept him safe through all the uncertainty on their voyage. We can turn to Him when we’re sad, frightened, or just not sure what to do.

Like the promise He made to Noah, He makes a rainbow promise to us in Jesus – that He will always forgive our sins and love us no matter what.

Father God, thank you for the vast array of promises we read in the Holy Scriptures. Your promises are inspirational, Your faithfulness unmatched. Thank you for the ways you care for us and remind us to stand on Your (and our own) promises. Amen

Take the Plunge

“When anxious, through prayer and thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” ~ Philippians 4:6

Adrenalin junkie would never be a phrase describing her. But after playful ribbing from her teens, she reluctantly agreed to try the towering water slide.

Climbing to the top of “Echo Falls,” Erin felt the rush of excitement that brought memories of much younger days on her school playground.

The sun shined brilliantly. August heat amplified screams of giddy laughter as the mother of three readied herself for the frightening descent into the aquamarine pool seven stories below.

She glanced down the severe descent, swallowed her fear, and took the plunge, accelerating downward at a frightening speed.

It wouldn’t have been so bad except… Erin couldn’t swim.

She anticipated safely dropping off the end of the slide into shallow water. Instead, she found herself breathless underwater, fighting a suffocating state of panic and fear.

She struggled to keep her head above the watery grave that waited to swallow her whole. Fighting desperately for her last gulp of air, Erin sucked in a mouthful of water instead and choked violently. Cold water filled her lungs; blood pounded behind her eyes. She desperately wanted to cry out for help but couldn’t breathe enough air. Once-flailing arms and legs quickly weakened.

“This is it. This is how my life is going to end!” she thought.

Through the muffled sound of the water, Erin heard a lifeguard’s screeching whistle. An arm appeared and heroically pulled her safely out of danger. Panting rapidly and coughing heavily, Erin thanked the lifeguard, who looked at her quizzically.

He then pointed to the inscription on the side of the pool that read ‘Depth 3 feet.’ “All you had to do was stand up,” he said with a sympathetic voice.

Isn’t that how life happens sometimes? It's like we’re drowning. We feel overwhelmed by too many responsibilities, major life changes, or overinflated expectations that can lead to many physical and mental symptoms.

I’m not sure what’s currently happening in your life, or what overwhelming situations you may face, but we will all face unexpected challenges and heartaches. But in the midst of it all, we have a God who, like that lifeguard, stands ready and willing to rescue us. Remember:

No matter how unqualified you feel for the tasks ahead, God equips us with all we need.

No matter how rapidly you’re gliding down life’s slippery slope, God will always bring hope.

No matter how overwhelmed your feelings, God will never let you drown.

So, take the plunge. Prayerfully and gratefully ask God for guidance and support. Put aside your pride and let God work His magic. We simply need to trust that He’s got this. The more that we let go and give Him control, the easier the challenging times will be.

Lord, even though I’m easily overcome by life’s challenges, I thank You for always being there for me. Remind me that by the power of Your Word, I’m well-equipped for the journey You’ve prepared me for. Amen

His Grandeur

 “The heavens proclaim the glory of God. Nature displays His handiwork." ~ Psalm 19:1

At seventeen, Brittney (Brit) was dying, and she couldn’t do anything about it. Though her friends didn’t realize it, they were watching her die. They saw her floating face down in the lake, but assumed she was just clowning around.

But she wasn’t messing around. She simply couldn’t move. Not her arms. Not her legs. Nothing. She had yet to comprehend that her life had already changed forever.

X-rays would confirm a fracture of the C5 vertebra and acute spinal cord damage. Total paralysis of the upper and lower body. In nanoseconds, she went from being an adventurous, outgoing, bold student-athlete to worrying about her future and grieving the loss.

Brit spent six weeks in the hospital. She lost her mobility, muscle tone and nearly all memories of the previous 12 months. Her entire junior year… eviscerated. But during the slow rehab process, she decided that she was ‘all-in,’ and followed God’s lead despite the tragedy. Hope emerged. Optimism flourished. Faith amplified.

She completed her senior year on schedule and graduated from college while living at home adjusting to her new reality. After considering a career in medicine, Brittney pivoted to law, and at age 27, earned her law degree from SMU.

“Sure, people are paralyzed, deafened, and blinded,” she said. “It doesn’t mean God’s creation lacks purpose and value. We still can choose to experience God’s magnificence.”

“I love the intricate details of a flower. It’s delicate petals, vibrant colors, and sweet fragrance all point to God’s artistry. His power speaks to me in towering mountain heights, their rugged terrain and snow-capped peaks.”

“The magnificence of a sunrise - its fiery hues and fading light remind me of the beauty of His creation. An endless blue ocean, its thundering waves and diverse marine life, all testify to the immensity of God's creation.”

“I also love to close my eyes and breathe in nature’s noises, listening to a river run. Any time I’m near water, it rejuvenates my spirit. I feel alive and humbled. Birds are usually close by – blue jays, sparrows, and hawks. I feel them as auditory smiles and expressions of pure bliss.”

Witnessing the totality of God’s creation can invite us into a deeper appreciation for God and His handiwork. Her broken neck was a freak accident that forced her to learn things she never would’ve understood as an able-bodied person. Her message is one of perseverance and hope.

“My faith has been strengthened and purified by this whole ordeal,” she added. “My greatest joy is the deep gratitude I’ve experienced, even during some of my darkest days. Even though I sit in a metal wheelchair each day, remain hopeful. Good is amazing!”

Almighty and Majestic Father, through life’s twists and turn, up and downs, teach me to live out of a place of joy and gratitude, not entitlement. May I be content with what I have, no matter the season or challenge. To have You is to have enough. Amen

Living Small

“Learn to be content whatever the circumstances." ~ Philippians 4:11

Another day of unloading. Another day of unpacking moving boxes. Another day of building shelves to store all the stuff we’ve been storing for decades. Ugh!

Rummaging through my toolbox and searching for deck screws, I discovered a small copper washer. Its light green patina revealed years of age and exposure. “What’s this for I wondered, and why had I kept it at all?”

A memory quickly unfolded as the pages of a favorite childhood storybook. Oddly, the thin washer reminded me of a penny placed on railroad tracks some 60 years ago. It echoed summer days, nurturing and forever simple.

I’d been five or six years old, standing near railroad tracks behind our grandparents’ farmhouse. Several times a day a huge freight train would rumble past.

Funny how time tends to erase features. I can’t recall their faces or much of anything else from that long ago time.

But I could distinctly remember the thrill of that moment when my Dad encouraged me to place an ordinary penny on the rail. And soon the mighty roar of the ginormous freight train thundered precariously past.

I reached down and picked up the remains of the coin. Its one-cent value had been destroyed. The copper, squashed paper thin, had become smooth and dark. But it had become infinitely more valuable in my eyes.

Why do I still remember that penny and that train? One was a small thing of little value. The other, a juggernaut, was like the swift, unstoppable passage of time.

Staring down at the discolored copper washer, I chuckled before tossing it back into my toolbox.

Such a small thing.

But small doesn’t have to mean unimportant. Small doesn’t translate to “without meaning or purpose.” Small can be profound.

It’s always in the smallest moments that I feel that familiar wash of gratitude settle over me. It’s those unexpected moments when my adult daughter confides she now appreciates the positive imprints I’ve had on her life. It’s in the smallest, most beautiful moments that I feel His spiritual nudges I’ve been seeking.

God can work with small. Sometimes I think that’s where He works best.

Sometimes all the small things add up to something big. The quiet push that leads a person down a new path. The faith it takes to get through the hard stuff. A life spent in love and service. Years gone by in work, loyalty, and listening. In the end, there’s nothing small about those things.

But day to day, life might feel small, but our story is leading us somewhere. We are all writing a story with our lives. So, let’s make it a story that inspires and motivates others wherever it is shared.

Lord of all, during those times when we’re feeling small and insignificant, thank You for caring for us on our daily journeys. Thank you for guiding us in our decisions, for giving us wisdom when we stumble, and for leading in support of one another. Amen

"Leaves That Are Green"

 “Thank God, who gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ." ~ 1 Corin 15:57

One of my favorite Autumn songs is the soul-gripping tune by the fabled folk-rock duo, Simon & Garfunkel. Released in 1966, “Leaves That Are Green” poetically explores the passage of time, the fleeting nature of life, and the bittersweet emotions that accompany the certainty of change.

As the song progresses, Simon cleverly uses the metaphor of leaves changing color and falling from trees to symbolize the passage of time and the impermanence of youth. The lyrics evoke a sense of melancholy that comes with growing older.

Yellow leaves framed the walking path on my walk today. As their bright green color fades, it seems they drop almost as quickly as they change. I like the summer months but part of me whispers to the trees: “Hold on just a little longer.”

Graciously the woods listen to their Creator. To flourish in the spring, a tree must release its decayed leaves; their time has drawn to a close. Autumn wakes us to wonder.

Springtime will bring its own beauty. It’s a relief to see new growth after a long, harsh winter. Then spring morphs into summer, and soon verdant forests become the new normal. It’s not that we get tired of green, but in a way, we get used to it. In the Fall, God’s creative artistry bellows a glory all its own.

Western culture is all about the glories of youth: strength, vitality, a body neither weathered nor weakened by time. In our culture, we see splendor in youth and freshness. Aging is looked upon with a skeptical eye. Autumn leaves are delicate, but their bold colors are so bright they shine.

Autumn doesn’t stay - reminding us that winter is coming. Its beauty and wonder fade, “and the leaves that are green turn to brown.” Its presence changes into winter’s chilled silence.

Just like autumn, I too will not live forever. My leaves will also die. My chlorophyll will break down; my limbs will turn brittle; one of these casual breaths I take now will be my last.

It’s this truth, that gives us the hope of dying fabulously. When I pass, I don’t wish to cling to the edges of this earth, begging for one more day. I want to die with grace, falling back into the arms of my Savior, knowing that His beauty is greater than anything I could compare on this earth.

Winter comes to us all. But winter isn’t the end for Christians, because our lives are joined to a tree that winter can’t touch. Death has no sting; winter has no bite. We will fall from Adam’s tree, but we will flower again in a spring of eternal, magnificent growth.

Lord of all, as cooler winds drift in and the days grow shorter, draw us closer to You. Let us feel Your warm and loving presence. May we imagine ourselves in Your arms, close to Your heart, surrounded by Your light. Amen

The "Michael" Spiritual

 “Rushing water is loud; ocean waves are powerful, but the Lord is much greater.” ~ Psalm 93:4

Among the most memorable songs in American folk music is "Michael Row the Boat Ashore," a traditional African-American spiritual. It’s sung around campfires and in churches all across the country because it is easy to learn and the melody is soft and sweet.

Spirituals like this originated during the slave era and were sung to help pass the long, hot work days. No one person was often credited with writing the words or the music because both came spontaneously and were passed down through generations. Because of this, there are many versions in circulation.

Charles Ware, a Harvard-educated abolitionist who came to supervise plantations on St. Helena Island in 1862, wrote down the lyrics of the song as he heard freedmen sing it. The song was sung by former slaves whose owners had abandoned the island before the Union Navy would arrive to enforce a blockade.

While we do have references to pinpoint the song’s publishing date (though undoubtedly much older), its precise remains unclear.

It’s believed to have been inspired by the slaves trying to escape violent weather that battered the Islands off Georgia. Many died as a result because the only way off was by small row boat. The tempo was deliberately slow to keep pace with the oars when the load was heavy or they were rowing against the tide (two measures to each stroke).

The death they likely faced probably refers to the River Jordan, where Jesus was baptized and can be viewed as a metaphor for deliverance and salvation, but also as the boundary of the Promised Land and the transition to Heaven.  "Michael" in the song is probably the Archangel Michael. In the Roman Catholic interpretation, Michael helps ferry the souls of the dead to heaven.

But the Jordan River, over which the Israelites crossed into the Promised Land, symbolized not only postmortem salvation. For those who first sang “Michael, Row the Boat Ashore,” it also signified liberation from slavery and, perhaps, the slaveholding South.

Nearly a hundred years later, The Highwaymen had an international hit with their version. It was continually cast into the limelight during the 60s and recorded by many folk artists including Pete Seeger and Peter Paul & Mary.

In modern times, the song is about the idea of escaping from an inescapable and difficult situation, such as the world of sin, and seeking help, comfort, and a better life. The other verses act as reassurances that although the world can seem to be chaotic and overwhelming, God’s great power is greater than natural, medical, financial, or political power. His authority is even greater than death.

Lord, “You are great and most worthy of praise; greatness no one can fathom. Each generation commends Your works to another; they tell of Your mighty acts and the glorious splendor of Your majesty. They celebrate your abundant goodness and joyfully sing of your righteousness.” (Psalm 145:3-7)

The Easter Promise

 “He’s not here; He has risen, just as He promised!" ~ Luke 24:6-7

For the first time in her life, Jenni wouldn’t be in church on Easter Sunday. She’d promised Eric, her boyfriend, that she’d go camping with him and some friends that weekend. She realized the mistake too late to cancel the trip. 

Now as they loaded the gear, Jenni kept replaying Easter memories: driving home from college to attend church with her family, melodious organ music, the aromatic smell of Easter lilies, and children dressed in their Sunday best. Easter was special.

As soon as they arrived at Cades Cove Campground, in the Smoky Mountains, Jenni hurried to the welcome station to ask the ranger if she knew if any of the churches were holding Easter services.

“If they are, no one told me,” she said shaking her head.

Cades Cove is one of the most popular spots in the park. Visitors travel its 11-mile loop by car, foot, or bicycle, to catch a glimpse of the area’s wildlife - deer, turkeys, foxes, even an occasional black bear.

Sunday morning Jenni woke early to heavy fog. No one else stirred. She left a note beside the coffeepot, grabbed her bike, and pedaled to Cades Cove. The meadow’s grass was fresh with dew. Dogwood blossoms dotted the woods. A doe and her fawn stared at her through the mist. Three miles in, she discovered Cades Cove Methodist Church.

A historical marker said its first congregation met in a simple log cabin with a dirt floor in 1820. A more permanent church was built in 1902 at a cost of $115. The white clapboard building had a sheet-metal roof and a simple bell tower.

Its doors were open. Jenni slipped inside. Twenty-four pews, a large wooden pulpit, and a time-worn piano.

She sat down and tickled the only keys she knew by heart: “Joyful, joyful, we adore thee…”

Then Jenni stepped up to the pulpit, opened the pages of a vintage leather Bible to Luke’s Gospel, and read the account of Jesus’ Resurrection aloud.

She looked up. A young couple with three small children stood in one of the doorways. Dad took off his hat. “Excuse me,” he said. “We heard the piano. Are you having Easter service here today?”

“Yes!” Jenni said. “Please, come in.”

Easter had come to her on its own. Christ had risen and was alive - for the women at the tomb, for her, and, now for others to share it with.

To close, the daughter suggested her favorite hymn, “Jesus Loves Me.” Mom asked if she could lead them in a closing prayer. They all bowed their heads. “Thank you, God, for Easter and new friends. Amen!”

They left the church into the warm spring sun, a day once again bright with the Promise of Easter.

Almighty Father, thank You for the Promise of Easter. For Your Resurrection is our guarantee that Truth will triumph over evil, Light will overcome darkness, and Love will conquer death. Shine your light in us, through us, and over us. Amen