10 Things I Learned This Spring

What I learned in Spring


As I paused to reflect on what I learned this Spring, I decided to do a little word study on the word “reflect.” (You know I LOVE my “re-words.”) Bear with me for a brief etymology lesson:

Re- means “back” + flectere “to bend,” which is related to the word flexible, “capable of being bent; mentally or spiritually pliant.” 

Isn’t that GOOD?! (And convicting.) Sometimes I think the closest I come to being flexible is getting bent out of shape!

All that to say, I found this reflection and exercise (inspired by Emily P. Freeman) to be a helpful and fun way to process All. The. Things.


1. The hype about cold brew coffee isn’t hype.

I’d never really understood the whole cold brew coffee thing, but then my brilliant friend Erica posted a yummy looking Instagram pic, so I finally decided to give it a try.

It was a game changer for my afternoon caffeine fix—smooth and rich and easy on my tummy.

The hype about cold brew coffee isn't hype and it isn't hard to make at home.

Not easy on the wallet, however, so now I make my own big batch cold brew concentrate, just like Starbucks. You can, too. It’s easy and delicious.

2. There really are wild ponies in Beaufort.

I’d heard the stories, strained my eyes in vain searching for them, but I’d never once seen them. It frustrated me so much that I began to tell myself (and others) that it was just a story.

I stayed in Beaufort this past April, and once again, no ponies. On our final evening, I took one last walk to see the sunset and out of the corner of my eye—movement! I held my breath, looked up and there was a pony. No, wait… two ponies. Oh, my word, there was a whole herd grazing on the high ground. I’d always looked for them on the shoreline.

It's true. There are wild ponies in Beaufort, NC.


3. Contentment doesn’t look like I thought it would.

For the first time in years, things are pretty peaceful around our house. But it’s weird; kinda’ like floating when you’ve worn yourself out, trying to out-swim the sharks. It almost seems too passive or something. (Insert my husband’s eyeroll.)

But I know this season is a gift, a respite and reprieve and I am embracing it. There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now than sitting on my rocker on the back porch, breathing the night air and looking at the stars. Ahh…

SOmetimes contentment looks like a rocking chair


4. Powerful things happen when women share their testimonies

I was honored to speak at Beauty for Ashes Retreat again this spring; the theme was Testimony. The stories the women shared from the pulpit and around the tables were real, raw and life-changing. I want more of that.

When women share their testimonies, it's real, raw and lifechanging

These two gals are something else. What a privilege to get to know them.


5. Randomness was stealing my creativity.

That phrase in an email jumped out at me and served to reinforce something I’d already begun to realize: I need to become more intentional about the creative work the Lord has given me to do.

I work well on a deadline but I’m not good at giving myself a deadline. The answer that’s working for me right now: Theme days. Monday is book writing day. Tuesday, study day. Wednesday—blog. Etc.


Randomness was stealing my creativity

6. Makeup isn’t the answer.

I knew I was in trouble when a brand new ULTA store opened up within walking distance from my house. I’m always searching for a better concealer (the answer to all life’s problems), a more natural foundation (that still covers my sun spots) and eye shadow that’s not crepey.

But now that I’ve started to eat better, take collagen and am using more and better skin care products, I find I don’t need all the makeup. Exfoliation is my friend. (Not the scrubs, they tear your skin… chemical exfoliation.)

Exfoliation is your friend


7. You don’t always have to spend the big bucks.

I’d had my eye on a pair of distressed Aerie jean shorts, but couldn’t bring myself to hit the “Buy” button. (When you grow up in the 60’s wearing Levi’s cut-offs that you made from your old jeans, $49 seems ridiculous.)

Over priced denim shorts


Solution: Goodwill. I found a pair of vintage all cotton denim Levi’s (no spandex! Yay!) for $3.59, already distressed because they were old. Grabbed the scissors and done. Sooo comfy. I am forever a hippie.

Now these are jean shorts


8. Broken can be beautiful

We have this old yard statue of a little girl holding a bluebird. Charming, but somehow, over the winter her feet broke off and we couldn’t glue them back on. I was about to toss them.


What should I do with these, throw them away?

 But then I got inspired…


SOmetimes broken is beautiful

Now those feet are my favorite thing on the porch.

9. Sometimes paradise is right where you are.

We thought we were finally going to move this spring. We didn’t. You can read about it here. Or here.  (I talked about it a lot.)

Here’s what I learned: When the grass is greener wherever you aren’t, what you have to do is dig. Fertilize. Water. Plant. Dwell in the land (the apartment, the marriage, the job) and cultivate faithfulness. It’s a hard lesson, but flourishing is possible.


Dig. Plant. Water. Dwell in the land and cultivate faithfulness

Home is where you make it

10. I’m happiest when I’m learning.

Maybe I’m making up for not finishing my education? I don’t know, but reading, doing research, listening to podcasts and webinars fills my tank and it seems that I can’t get enough.

Writing this post was a learning experience, too. I was scratching my head, wondering if I’d learned anything at all in the last 90 days. (It’s not always obvious.) So, it was really insightful to go back and flip through my journals and photos and scroll through social media. This has turned out to be one of my favorite blog posts!

Now it’s your turn! What did you learn this Spring?


Teach me your way O Lord





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When all you want to do is sleep

“All I want to do is sleep”

A friend texted me in tears this morning. Unable to overcome the waves of anxiety and depression, she’d stepped out of the office and was hiding in the hallway, trying desperately to stop crying. “Nothing helps besides sleep,” she wrote. “I just want to go home and sleep.”

My heart broke for her. I remember hiding in the restroom at work, trying to control my own flow of tears. It felt like 5:00 would never come and all I wanted to do was to cry myself to sleep. Wake me when it’s over; like a turtle, I wanted to hibernate.

Imagine being able to simply shut down and snooze for a long period every year –doesn’t that sound heavenly? Preferably right after the last leaves fall until, oh, I don’t know… April 16th? Works for me.

Read more

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Jesus didn’t journal, so why should I?

You shouldn’t.

You absolutely should not journal.

I can’t even believe I’m telling you that right now because I’m a firm believer, advocate, fan, evangelist and supporter of the practice of journaling. But I don’t think you should be.


Leather journals are the best


Let me rephrase that: I don’t think you should be.

Here’s why: There’s no “should” to journaling.

My friend Lisa pointed this out to me recently. I asked her if she’d read my recent post about morning rituals and she replied that she’d read it and that she had a bone to pick with me.

“You said everybody should journal,” she said.

“Yeah,” I replied. “And?”

“Jesus didn’t journal.”

Clever, Lisa, I thought. He did write in the sand, though. Just sayin.’

It was only later that I realized that the “Jesus didn’t journal” line was a quote from the book The Me You Want To Be, by John Ortberg; a book I had recommended she read. Irony noted.

This little interaction messed with me for several reasons. As I said above, I’m a big proponent of journaling. I’m also one of Lisa’s mentors for her speaking ministry: I’m supposed to be the one guiding her, so that was awkward for a minute.

Also, I had just scheduled a post about journaling on my editorial calendar and had already purchased a couple of beautiful journals as giveaways. I’d scoured the internet for quotes, made notes, done the research.


The research was compelling

Studies suggest that journaling can strengthen the immune system, drop blood pressure and help you sleep better. It improves memory and problem-solving skills, facilitates healing and eases symptoms of asthma, rheumatoid arthritis and IBS. It’s also helpful for PTSD and working through grief.

Journaling helps you de-stress and cope with depression and anxiety. Forbes quotes Dr. Francisco Cruz, lead psychiatrist at Ketamine Health Centers, FL as saying, “Once journaling becomes a daily habit, the amygdala begins to register journaling as a safe zone for personal growth, healing and reflection.”

If it makes my amygdala happy, who am I to argue?

If you want to really amp up the benefits, try gratitude journaling. Literally brain-changing (therefore life-changing.)


There's science to back it up

Then there are the spiritual benefits

My friend Becky writes, “I am so thankful to have this written record of God’s faithfulness through it all. I find it hardest to journal during the difficult times but that is when it is most helpful. I keep my journal open and my pen in hand when I study the Word and I write my prayers in my journal. It is so amazing to go back and see how He answers—I ways I could have never imagined.”

With all the mental, physical and spiritual benefits (I took pages of notes and barely scratched the surface) why am I telling you that you shouldn’t journal?

Because Lisa was right.  Journaling is a practice, not a rule. If I say you should journal, I’m implying you must, or ought to; that it’s your duty. It’s not. For Christians, journaling is a spiritual practice, but it’s not the only spiritual practice. I’m not better than you because I write in my journal.

“True spirituality does have rules. But the rules are God’s, not humanity’s. The rules are rooted in the sufficiency of Christ. They are the pathway to freedom, not a road to bondage. They produce the fruit of selfless obedience, not the selfishness of rote legalism.” David Jeremiah NKJ Study Bible. 


Rules are a pathway to freedom not a road to bondage


Slippery slope

Like any spiritual practice, it’s an easy slide from devotion into legalism. I write about this here.  

“The main measure of your devotion to God is not your devotional life. It is simply your life.” John Ortberg. Click To Tweet

It can also lead to pride. Self-righteousness. (I love to journal. So should you.)

The other danger is that journaling can lead to an overly-introspective state or rumination on negatives.

Morning Pages, the practice of twenty minutes of daily stream-of-consciousness writing promoted by Julia Cameron in The Artist’s Way, became that for me. While cathartic at first, after a while it turned into a nauseating daily rehash of all my woes. Even I got sick of it. Now that I think about it, maybe that’s the point, though: self-awareness leading to change.

C.S. Lewis said that he kept a journal until he was converted. Then when he became a Christian, he realized that it was making him preoccupied with himself, so he stopped journaling.

Wring about journaling after his wife died, he also said this, though:

“But what am I to do? I must have some drug, and reading isn’t a strong enough drug now.”

My journaling journey has had it’s ups and downs as well. There have been times in my life that I couldn’t even bring myself to open my journal. But I come back to it, mostly because it makes me feel alive, more connected to God and because the practice has changed me.


Here’s why I love to keep a journal:


It’s my personal dumping ground for crappy thoughts

Seriously, some of the things I write in my journal should not see the light of day. (Note to self: burn the journals before you become senile.) Are you shocked? Don’t be. I’m a sinner. A sinner who journals.

Writing down my judgmental, angry, anxious thoughts helps me to see them for what they are; to repent and move forward in forgiveness and grace. Otherwise, I’d become bitter and eaten up with ulcers.

It helps de-clutter my mind

Writing helps me to process all the racing thoughts and enables me to focus better. The quote by E.M. Forster rings true for me: How do I know what I think until I see what I say? Answer: I don’t. Journaling helps me think better.

It’s a safe place to experiment creatively

I’d never call myself a poet or an artist, but in my journal world, I can be whatever I want without apology. The pictures I draw and poems I write are childish, sweet, sometimes dark, whimsical and silly.

Clinging to Hope


It’s where I have conversations with God

It’s one thing to talk to God but telling someone that He talks back will get you some strange looks. But He totally does.

I thought I was weird and the only one who did this until I attended Writing For Your Life Seminar last spring and keynote Barbara Taylor Brown spoke about it. We connected during the break and chuckled about how incredibly funny God is in our journal conversations with Him.

Besides being funny (even sarcastic at times, but maybe He’s just mimicking me) He is tender, intimate, to the point, forgiving and the world’s best encourager.


Sometimes incredible things happen

It’s not uncommon to get insights while journaling, but once in a while, amazing things happen. Like the day in 2007, when I wrote an entry that changed the way I looked at journaling forever.

It began like this:

“The dirty water of our current lives is swirling down the drain. The plug has been pulled and only God can keep us from getting sucked down for good.” (Drama, much?) I was angry, and thought God should know. It took me five pages to get it out of my system.


Finally, the pen nearly out of ink, I broke down and asked for help.

“Raise up an army for us, Lord.” Immediately, the tone of my writing transformed.

As if someone was guiding my pen, I began to transcribe a battle scene. There were two warriors –one wounded, the other giving comfort and aid, pleading, “Just stay alive. Stay awake. You’re going to make it. Help is coming.”

It was like watching a movie: “God using one to breathe life into the other; tapping drops of water on parched lips, gently daubing the forehead with a soft, wet cloth, carefully lifting the effects of the battle until the face was recognizable once more.

The news spreads that the enemy has been held back. Help has arrived. Reinforcements deployed. Supplies make it through the enemy lines. Medications are distributed. A victory song rises through the ranks.”


What was that? I thought, as I laid down my pen. I don’t write fiction.


the journal entry that changed my life

Re-read your journals

Fast forward nine years.  On September 30, 2016, my husband, Roger had a massive pulmonary embolism and cardiac arrest. The doctor’s didn’t expect him to survive, but he did.

One evening after a long day at the hospital, the Lord nudged me to look through my old journals; that was when I rediscovered the journal entry I’d written back in 2007. I was shocked at the familiarity of the story. When I read it to Roger, he literally dropped his jaw. What I had unknowingly written in my journal all those years ago turned out to be a prophetic, play-by-play synopsis of Roger’s health crisis and the days afterward. God knew. He had supernaturally girded me for the spiritual battle that was ahead.


So, am I saying you should journal?

Yes, if the Spirit leads you to journal, I think you would find it to be an amazing blessing. It’s a way to understand and to tell your story (and God’s story) but it’s not the only way to do that. There’s freedom here.

Listen, I get what my friend, Lisa was saying: I was being bossy. I never realized how bossy I can be until I reunited with a childhood friend who quickly announced that I hadn’t changed a bit.

“How’s that?” I asked.

“You were bossy then and you’re still bossy!”

Friends, I’m not the boss of you. Sorry if I come off that way at times. I get that journaling isn’t everyone’s cup of tea and I’m not going to force it down anyone’s throat anymore. (I might try to whet your appetite, though!) 

What I will encourage you to do is find a spiritual practice that helps you to engage with the One who longs to engage with you.

It’s all grace, friends.

Grace that is greater than all my sin


There’s a giveaway!

I’m giving away a gorgeous hardback Lemome journal. It’s my very favorite! (If you don’t journal, this would be a perfect gift!) Choose your color: a gorgeous purple or cognac brown. To enter for a chance to win, leave a comment HERE ON THE BLOG POST. To earn an extra chance to win, subscribe to my blog or share the post on social media. Winner will be chosen at random Sunday May 19.



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Letter to all the Moms who are waiting


Dear Mom,

I see you.

I’ve watched you as you wait. Motherhood is a waiting game, you know—a game that seems to have no end, at least not as far as I can tell, and I’m a grandmother seven times now.


You learn to wait by waiting


The waiting game starts with waiting to get pregnant, then the nine months of waiting to deliver. You wait and you count the days on the calendar; you waddle around WalMart, shopping for a car seat, and then you wait in line until you think your bladder will burst. It bursts, but it’s not your bladder; it’s time. You thought it would be over then, the waiting, but no; it’s just beginning.

Days, weeks and months go by as you wait to get the hang of this motherhood thing; you rub your weary eyes and wait for the baby to go back to sleep, then to sleep through the night. You wait and wonder if this child will ever get potty-trained or learn to walk.

Then there are the years of waiting for the school bus, soccer practice and report cards to show up in the mail. Before you know it, they’re teenagers and it gets more serious: you wait for them to make curfew, to pull in the driveway safely when they finally get their license. Maybe you wait for college application results, (please, Lord!) or drug test or pregnancy results. (Pulleease, Lord!)

Your prayers in the middle of the night don’t go unnoticed. You bite your nails and you watch and wait and pray for a good report and sometimes the waiting seems endless.


Sometimes the wait seems endless


Later, you’ll wait (and wait) for a phone call and settle for a text.

I’ve waited too. I’ve waited with hope in my heart and with a pit in my stomach. Most of mothering is waiting for our prayers to be answered. I confess I didn’t always wait well. Maybe you can relate?

I wish I could tell you that one day the waiting will be over, but so far, that hasn’t been the case. My children are all adults with children of their own and I’m still waiting for some of my prayers for them to be answered, plus now there are all the prayers for my grandchildren. So many prayers. So much waiting.

It does get easier, though. I don’t get the pit in my stomach so much these days. I’ve stopped biting my nails (-ish.)

Lately, I’ve even started turning my phone off at night. You know how I learned to wait?

By waiting.

You’ll have to learn that way, too, I’m afraid, but hopefully it won’t take you as long as it did me. The waiting is inevitable but there’s a right way to do it. God’s way.


Here’s my Mother’s Day gift to you, whether you’re a new Mom or a Grandma:


Happy Mother's Day


Five ways to win the waiting game that is motherhood


  1. We’re to wait quietly. That doesn’t mean we’re not supposed to talk about it out loud; it’s more about having a quiet spirit on the inside. Psalm 62:1 says, “I wait quietly before God, for my victory comes from Him.” It’s about having peace while we wait for Him to move on our behalf. The phrase “wait quietly” means to be dumb, or astonished. Maybe because we trust that God will do something astonishing?


  1. We’re to wait determinedly. Habakkuk was one example of this. He vowed to climb up the watch tower and station himself there until the Lord spoke to Him. And Isaiah speaks of posting watchmen on the walls of Jerusalem who pray day and night, continually, giving the Lord no rest until he completes his work. I like that! “Lord, I’m going to bombard you with prayers for my kid until you turn him around!” I think God likes it, too.


  1. We’re to wait eagerly. This kind of waiting isn’t passive, it’s active. The implication is one of waiting spiritedly, with enthusiasm and thirst. “We have waited for you eagerly; Your name, even Your memory, is the desire of our souls.” Is 26:8 NASB


  1. We’re to wait patiently. I think sometimes we act just like kids when on a road trip: “Are we there yet, huh, are we there yet? Are we, huh, huh; are we?!” To be patient means to bear provocation, annoyance, misfortune, delay, hardship or pain, with fortitude and calm and without complaint, anger or the like. Psalm 5:3 says, “Listen to my voice in the morning, Lord. Each morning I bring my requests to you and wait patiently.”


  1. We’re to wait confidently. Micah 7 speaks of a son despising his father and a daughter defying her mother—enemies living in the same household! But then Micah says, “But as for me, I will look to the Lord for help. I wait confidently for God to save me and my God will certainly hear me.”


Oh, friends, if motherhood feels like a never-ending cycle of waiting, that’s because it is. There will be times when you get tired of waiting and you’ll be tempted to grab hold of the reins… to help God out just a little because it seems like he’s preoccupied (maybe with someone else’s kids?) but don’t do it. Won’t work. Know this from experience.


Help is the sunny side of control Click To Tweet




“Then Abraham waited patiently, [makrothymeo to be long-spirited, not to lose heart] and he received what God had promised.” Heb 6:15


One last piece of advice before I go and I’m preaching to myself here…  when you get tired of waiting for the answer to your prayers and wonder what the Lord is waiting for, ask yourself this instead:


What is He waiting for me to do?


Chances are, He’s waiting to see if you’ll be long-spirited and not lose heart.


Abraham waited patiently for the promise


Cheering you on this Mother’s Day,


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There’s a Place for Us… Somewhere

Making a place for meaningful connections is the basis of everything I do, whether it’s blogging, speaking, creating a pleasing environment in my home or cooking a delicious meal for my guests. And I realize how noble and selfless that sounds, but trust me, it comes from a very broken place.

A homeless place.

no place to lay your head, displaced

From belonging to the only Italian and Catholic family in my childhood hometown, struggling with my weight, not enjoying parties, never fitting in with the in-crowd, to living in a rented townhouse at an age when we should be burning the mortgage, I have and do struggle to find my place.


How about you? Do you ever feel out of place?


* Maybe, like me, your physical space is not to your liking; perhaps it’s too small, or now that you’re an empty-nester, it feels like an empty hotel.

* It could be your job (or lack of one) that makes you feel displaced. You might be in over your head or under-employed. Maybe your co-workers have more education than you.

* A prolonged health crisis can rob you of your place in life.

* If you are divorced, recently widowed or lost a child, you are probably struggling to find your place in the world alone.


Why is place such a big deal? What does it even mean?


Place refers to where someone (or something) belongs, or is supposed to be.

There is an art and science to loving the place you live


We all long to belong, don’t we? To be in the right place at the right time, doing the right thing?!


Think of all the ways we talk about this word:


  • Take your place
  • Save me a place
  • Fall into place
  • 1st place
  • Last place
  • She’s going places
  • Let’s go to my place
  • Stay in your place
  • Know your place
  • Out of place
  • Put someone in their place
  • If I were in your place…
  • Oh, the places you’ll go!
  • A place at the table


I realized a long time ago that my love for hospitality and making people feel welcome came from my own sense of not belonging. Not deserving of a place at the table.

It's one thing to feel out of place. It's another feel you don't even deserve a place


It’s one thing to feel out of place; it’s another to feel like we don’t deserve a place at all. Click To Tweet


This is stuff to take to Jesus (any maybe counseling—been there, done that). But what does the Bible say about it?


Here are some verses to cling to:


He brings us out into a broad place. Ps 18:19 (the word for place here is merchab and means enlargement or liberty)

He is our hiding place. Ps 32:7 (here the word place is cether and means covering or protection)

He brings us to a place of abundance. Ps 66:12 (place of abundance is revayah and means satisfaction, overflows)

He dwells in a high and holy place and also with the contrite and lowly of spirit. Is 57:15 (crushed)


Darkness is His hiding place


Jesus faced some hard places, too:


Places of temptation Luke 4:1-13

No place to lay his head Matt 8:20

Places of dread and despair (Gethsemane) Matt 26:36

Places of total rejection (Golgotha) Matt 27:33


Happy feeling gone.


But there’s Good News, too!


There IS a place for us. The Promised Place.


“In my Father’s house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you, for I go to prepare a place for you. John 14: 2.

I don’t know about you but I can’t wait to see my heavenly place! (Hoping for an Italian villa.)


Heaven must be an Italian villa


The other day I read a Twitter comment that said, “Love your place!” The writer was referring to how much he admired the other’s home. I read it as an exhortation: 


Love your place!”


Love it—not because it’s easy, perfect or feels good. In this season of life, my place is a little uncomfortable:

It’s a too-small townhouse, a body that aches from trying to get in shape, feeling like a beginner again with my writing and constantly wondering if I have what it takes, financial insecurity.


Here’s what I’m learning:


The four stages of finding your place: acceptance. Embracing. Resting. Loving.

4 stages to finding and making peace with your place:


1. Accept it

Wherever you are, you are not there by accident. God’s not up in heaven rolling his eyes at you, either. Graham Cooke says, “God’s not disillusioned with you because He never had any illusions about you in the first place.”

Accepting your place may involve working through some grief and that’s ok. Do the work and don’t let anyone rush you through it. Accept your place but do it with hope for the future.


You're not out of place if God placed you there. Click To Tweet


2. Embrace it

Christine Caine, in her book Unstoppable, says that to thrive, we must learn to embrace our place. “Embracing our place means that no matter what season we are in, or what our circumstances are, we have to see ourselves as important members of God’s divine relay—right where we are.”

She goes on to say that “God is doing a work in you so he can do a work through you. He’s preparing you in the place where you are so he can take you to the place he’s prepared for you to be.”


3. Rest in it

There is work for you to do, no matter what place you find yourself, but sometimes the work is to learn to rest.

Make your lists, do the inner work, hustle, but ask God for the grace to rest in place. Pray, “Holy Spirit, show me where I’m striving, still my restlessness and help me to let go of my need to control the timing and outcome.”


4. Love it

This is the tough one. This hard place you find yourself in—you’ve accepted it, embraced it, even tried to find rest in it. But LOVE? Give me a break.

I know, I know. And no, there’s no Scripture that says you have to love your place.

You don’t have to love it. Neither do I.


We GET to love our place.


In her book, “This is Where You Belong – Finding Home Wherever You Are,” Melody Warnick says, “If you want to love your town you should ACT like someone who loves your town.”

I say, if you want to love your place, act like someone who loves their place.


It’s a decision.


Live like you’ll be in this place forever.

Dwell in the land.

Do good.

Feed on His faithfulness and cultivate your own faithfulness.

Be fruitful and multiply.

Stay hopeful.


There IS a place for us. The promised place.


Accepting and embracing your place, resting and learning to love it—yeah, good luck with that on your own. I’m preaching to myself here, you get that, right?

There is a place for you (and for me)… a place where God’s peace and presence may be found. Know where it is?


Right where you are.


No matter your place, Jesus is with you


It’s unfathomable but true. Accept it.

It’s all by God’s design. Embrace it.

It’s a peaceful place. Rest in it.

God’s in that place. Love it.


Oh, friends, if you’re struggling to find your place, take comfort in this:

If you’re a believer, you already have a place—seated in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus. He has brought you to his banquet hall, and his banner over you is love.

I love you. Jesus loves you more.













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