Deborah Malone
Direction and clarity came as I wrote each lesson. Incredible details resurfaced. Five years with setback after setback, but I trudged forward. Everywhere I went I took a pen and pad to scribble down a few more sentences - in the car, at the doctor’s office, in the waiting room, on vacation.
My heart to write was crushed. I had no energy, will, or passion to continue. I was in fact, covered in boxes from the move, animals in high anxiety, and dealing with a daughter who struggled with PTSD, anxiety, depression and very pregnant. I don’t know who cried more in those difficult and tumultuous days.
by Kirsten McTernan Just like many of us who believe, the Lord captured my heart at a time when I needed Him most. He was there all along, whispering He loved me and gently guiding me. I just didn't see it until I was faced with an unplanned pregnancy. My parents were good moral people,… Continue reading The Paths We Choose
by Ellie Gustafson Anyone looking objectively at my life would think it close to idyllic: Born to a stable family in America, I enjoyed a great childhood, a Wheaton education, marriage, kids, church involvement, writing career, and good health. Privileged, in so many ways. Why was I so blessed? I could have been born in… Continue reading Come Get a Hug!
by June Chapko Roses have been a part of my life since childhood. I remember the delight on my mother's face when she received even a single rose; one I'd carefully plucked from a wild bush on my way home from our little neighborhood library. She would smile, give me a hug and place the… Continue reading Grandmother’s Yellow Rose
by Lisa Nelson “But He said to me, ‘ My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’” (II Cor. 12:9) My high school basketball coach used to tell us, “Success comes in 'cans.'” Unfortunately, it ended up taking me several years beyond high school to buy into this… Continue reading Lisa’s Story Part II
The next thing I remember is Jason racing into the bedroom and finding me on the floor. He knelt on the floor, gathered me in his arms, and reached for the phone to call 911. He just kept saying, "Don't leave me. Please don't leave me!" I could see the terror in his tear-filled eyes as he repeated it over and over.
