An Unexpected Journey

 So a few Fridays ago I went with my kindergartener on her school field trip to a farm.  At the end we had a picnic, and I was chatting with some moms while she played for almost 30 minutes with a ginormous, shaggy dog who lived on the farm.  One of the other moms snapped some pics of her and asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up.  Since this mom was anticipating veterinarian or something to do with animals, she was completely caught off guard when my sweet baby replied that she was going to work at a gas station!  And so was I!  I have heard dolphin trainer for the aquarium, orthopedic surgeon, but gas station worker was a first!  At her upcoming kindergarten graduation they will ask my little what she hopes to be when she grows up… I think I need to do some coaching before then! Now don’t get offended.  Working at a gas station could be a perfectly respectable job (and owning it is a different thing altogether!), and I suppose the lure of free slushies all day might

I have a guest post from a precious friend today.  On a typical day you can find her grabbing a Diet Coke and doing a beautiful job with the balancing act of work, mom, and Pastor’s wife.  And some days we are lucky enough to get a peek at what God is speaking to her as she writes about being BRAVE women over here on her blog at Life on Purpose .  Thanks for visiting here, Katie! Get ready to be encouraged and challenged.... I sit in my car, tears stream down my flushed cheeks, and I beg the Lord to heal the pain in my heart. I cry out to the only one that I know can make it different, make it better... the only one who's love is deep enough. He knows why I'm crying - He knows the longings of my heart - and He knows how the enemy has used this pain to try and get me to run back into the pit that I clawed my way out of. Sometimes it seems harder to stay out than it was to get out - when life happens and it hits the right nerve and opens the right door of opportunity - when

Tragedy struck our family last week.  Our church family.  A dear friend, an intercessor, a pillar in the church lost her only son on Wednesday.  He was a husband and a father and a brand new grandfather.  I missed a week of writing before spring break.  Then last week this loss engulfed me, and I just had no words.   Sunday this brave soul brought her grandson to church with her.  I watched as the body of Christ surrounded them with love and prayers and tears.  And it touched my heart.  When one part of the body hurts, we all hurt.  The words my husband said from the pulpit.  We all felt it, but it needed to be said.  We all needed to share in their grief.  To stop for a few minutes and wrap our arms around them.  I learned a long time ago that most words don’t mean much in deep grief.  Except the ones that say, “I am with you.”  The ones that say, “You are not forgotten.”  No one can walk your broken road for you.  But they can remind you that you are seen.  Seen by them.  And u