Real Lessons from Real Life
Surprised by joy? I was flooded with it.
How can the God of the measureless universe care about me at all, let alone the details of my life?
I grew up in a world at war. One of my earliest memories was praying with my mother for “the soldiers and sailors overseas.”
No matter how dark things look in the world or my own life, God is still in control.
But ask any coach how much better his team plays when the stadium is full of cheering fans. They can make the difference between winning and losing.
It was the worst moment of the worst Time of my life.
Suppose Jesus came to you, not in church with the bells ringing, but smack in the middle of a messy Monday…
What happens if we’re not surrounded by full grain bins and root cellars stacked with food, but problems, disappointments, trouble? What if we don’t see blessings…but fleas?
I might want to produce the fruit of the Spirit in my life but I can’t. I must “dwell” in Him–remain closely attached to the Lord and let Him fill me with the water and nutrients I need.
No major problems, really, but just enough to take the edge off my faith, my joy, my optimism. Honestly, I didn’t expect much when we went to church, but that’s when God seems to do His best work.
My mother used to say, “Old age isn’t for sissies.” The older I get, the more I realize she was right. Aging is a season of loss: loss of friends, one after another, loss of ability, agility, strength, loss of the things I used to do and enjoy. The latest one came...
On such tiny pins do the hinges of history turn.
What I slowly began to understand is that perfection is a gift, not an achievement. If, by chance, I do happen to do something perfectly, I can enjoy the moment and thank God for it, but should not expect to repeat it.
Do you need patience in paradise? I did, late one morning, on our recent trip to Hawaii.
I’ve learned you can’t live on a mountain-top, even a good one like that. I also know the Enemy redoubles his efforts when you’ve had such an experience. There’s nothing he likes better than to steal our joy.
In a year when all the news seems so ugly, it’s wonderful to have some good, honest fun. Stories like Loyola’s are why I watch all those games in the first place.
Margaret Emerson died last week. I’ve been blessed with many friends over my lifetime and loved them all, but few changed my life. Margaret did.
Jane’s story was so depressing and devoid of hope that I had to set the book aside for a while. Last night, however, I picked it up again, only to discover…a miracle!