Blog
From and about women who love Jesus and want to share His message through Scripture, everyday inspirations, and relatable stories.
Aubrey invited the dozen or so women who’d signed up for her fall Sacred Wilderness retreat to place their yoga mats on the porch. The lodge we’d occupy the rest of the weekend was tucked in the rolling country hills of North Central Ohio, far from city lights. We stretched out on our mats, draped a throw blanket across our bodies, and looked at the night landscape, barely able to discern the tall pines and deciduous trees in the valley from the shadowed lawn and distant hills.
I’ve been a follower of Jesus now for twenty-five years, but until just recently, every time I’ve heard the Great Commission—go and make disciples—I’ve felt ill-equipped. Everyone else obviously knows so much more about the Bible and God than I do.
April was a tough month. My eighty-nine-year-old dad was hospitalized because of complications from a “minor” surgery. To care for and advocate for him, I visited the hospital once or twice a day. Concern for my eighty-year-old mom, now living alone thirty miles away, niggled at my consciousness.
Situated between Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, the Bay of Fundy had fascinated my husband and I many years ago when we were passing through the area on our way home from Prince Edward Island. Now on a vacation to Nova Scotia, Canada, we decided to visit Burntcoat Head National Park to see the Bay once again—this time from the other side.
After my husband’s first cancer diagnosis, we met with the surgeon, who worked hard to put us at ease. After surgery, we waited for the results to see if the cancer had metastasized from the tumor and spread throughout his body. Though we felt God was present, He didn’t speak words of comfort or assurance to us, but it seemed to us that He would.
“If I could promise you that if you wake up tomorrow morning at 5 a.m. to have a quiet time, you will hear the audible voice of God, would you do it?” My pastor started a recent message with that question, and I immediately thought, “YES!”
Once upon a time, I shared my life with Charlotte (not her real name). Although we didn’t live in the same town, she and I prayed for each other regularly, cheering one another on.
A few years ago, Jonathan and I found ourselves in the heart of Africa, on a safari that felt more like stepping into a living psalm than a vacation. The wild unfolded before us—raw, breathtaking, and untamed.
The offer of a one-to-one mentor is one of the most enticing reasons people consider joining a cohort for the leadership development ministry I lead at our local church. I sense a deep desire with emerging leaders for a companion and guide on their spiritual journey. The problem?