Monthly Archives: October 2011



I just finished the book Adopted for Life by Russell Moore. I cannot tell you how highly I recommend it! It was absolutely an amazing read, and certainly challenged me to think and pray differently about how I can use my resources to further God’s kingdom.

Buy it. You won’t regret it!




It was the middle of June and it was a bad day.  On my emotional scale, the day was a complete train wreck, and it had barely even started.  I was 3 hours from home, away from my husband and boys, sitting in my daughter’s hospital room completely and utterly alone.  I, who try so hard to reign in my emotions, could not stop crying.  I was scared, I was lonely, and I was utterly broken.  This life was becoming more than I could handle. 

Was it just yesterday that I had taken her to the eye dr. to check for pink eye?  Was it just yesterday that the dr. had lost a bit of composure while examining her and dropped a foul word?  Was it just yesterday that we discovered instead of pink eye, the diagnosis was her shunt had popped through her eye?  In what seemed a whirlwind, we found someone to stay with the boys, and rushed Lydia to Philadelphia for emergency surgery.  The risk of infection from the shunt being outside of her eye was too great.  It landed us in the hospital for a 5 day stay.  I was unprepared.  I was undone. 

So, I cautiously opened my Bible and lifted a shaking hand to the only One I knew could offer me some hope of healing.  I opened to the Book that would be a soft pillow for my weary heart, and this is what I read –

“I will sing of the mercies of the Lord forever: with my mouth will I make known Thy faithfulness to all generations.”  Ps. 89:1 

I bowed my head.  With tears streaming down my face, and with a voice that was cracking, I began ‘to sing’.  I tremulously began to recount the mercies of the Lord in my life.  Again and again His faithfulness has been written all over the pages of my story.  Will I sing of them forever? Forever, Lord?  When my heart is breaking?  When I am separated from my family, and one of the biggest pieces of my heart is laying 2 feet from me hooked up to every machine known to man?  Can You give me the strength to sing unto You, even now?  And somehow, the words came.  Unbidden at first, causing even more rivulets of tears to come streaming down.  And there was healing in those moments, not completely, but the beginnings.  And after the songs, an assurance, a promise of declaration.  I will make this moment, and so many more moments of Your faithfulness known to the generation awaiting me at home, and all of the ones to come. 

You are the Great Physician.  You alone can heal this heart and give me words to sing to You.

Prone to Wander


“Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it! Prone to leave the God I love. Take my heart, oh, take and seal it! Seal it for Thy courts above.”

I am too am so prone to wander. I have asked the Lord this year to renew my mind. As I have struggled to “Take every thought into the obedience of Christ. Casting down imaginations and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God.”
I have a high thing (lots, actually!) but one in particular. It can so easily become an idol in my life, and exalt itself against what I know to be true about God. It is Lydia’s healing.

I envision her whole, without this dreaded disease infecting her eyes. I envision her life without any more surgeries, without needing glasses, therapies, or eyedrops. I envision how beautiful our life would be, and my heart begins to wander. I begin to exalt MY plans above the plans of the Most High God. Oh, this is dangerous ground!

It is here that I know I must take those thoughts into captivity. I must bind my wandering heart to the One that makes the crooked places straight. I must submit. And it is here, in my brokeness, that I see beauty. I see that through our sorrow, our boys are learning compassion for others. I see how God has tenderly cared for all of our needs. I see promises that someday HE will wipe all tears away, and I realize how temporary this life is. I see how our family has been together on our knees, asking, but yet submitting. I see greater things are at work here, in this brokeness.

I believe in a God Who uses broken vessels. There in lies hope for me.