Last week I told you my word for the year was presence. I've become desperate to release the juggling, the striving, running and cistern-filling that never actually fills. I yearn for Jesus' presence...to sit at His feet. To learn and love and live. I don't want to care about what each day brings as long as I can journey through each day with Him. I thought my biggest obstacle to sitting in His presence would be learning to rest. For the past few years, I thought tending to chores around the house was resting. Compared to standing on stage while…

I'm not a big believer in life verses. It's too easy to manipulate a verse from the Bible and make it what you want it to be while ignoring context and purpose.  But I do enjoy choosing a word for the year. Each year I pray over a word God may have for me. Last year's word was Sinai. I know what you're thinking. Sinai? Really? How about Mephibosheth? Or Maher-shalal-hash-baz? Trust me, I thought the same thing, but after seeing the way God breathed His plan and sang over the pivotal moments of this past year, looking back I…

"No room."  Most of us have heard the story. The fabled innkeeper who turned away Mary and Joseph in their hour of need. The calloused man has become a staple in the Christmas story, though he's never mentioned in the Bible. No, really. The only Gospel that makes mention of there being 'no room' is Luke chapter two. Check it out: "and she gave birth to her Son, her firstborn; and she wrapped Him in [swaddling] cloths and laid Him in a manger, because there was no [private] room for them in the inn." (Luke 2:7 AMP) No innkeeper, only a…

This past week has been a rough one. Why does it seem like holiday time is a tractor beam for bad news? Someone I love dearly received an unexpected diagnosis. My heart ached to hear it. As this person shared their news on Facebook, one person remarked, "Well, this must be God's will." My eyes bugged out as my blood began to boil. God's will? Really? I've been mulling over this concept for quite some time. When someone receives a medical diagnosis, people often blanket it under the guise of "God's will". When hurricanes drop devastation, we say it was…

I'm a beautiful mess this time of year. And I've learned that's okay. For years I lost precious sleep, valuable hair and added circles under my eyes to achieve the perfect Christmas. For my kids. For my husband. For my church. For my own ridiculous ideals. Christmas is the mother ship for us perfectionist types. Correction, recovering perfectionists, because that's what I am. I wanted to give my family the Norman Rockwell paintings of Christmas memories. You know, something they could look back on and say, "Ah, those were the good old days." I nearly made myself a nut job…

I stared at the seat I'd occupied in the church choir for nineteen years. End seat, soprano section. No longer. This was the day. I had to do it. It was past time. I swallowed and grabbed my black folder, clutching it to my chest as I marched past the director and plopped next to the empty chair in the alto section. My friends gave me quizzical stares. I smiled weakly. "Looks like I'm an alto now. You're stuck with me." I know this sounds overly dramatic. Perhaps in some ways it is. But you've got to understand, I majored…