juliarae
Junior Member

At first glance, I thought “What a mess! Lord if you can do anything with this...”

I awoke this morning to the sound of my teenager opening the door to go check the mail as he was anxiously awaiting the arrival of a package that contained a game he had ordered. Oh, to be that way again. When my world involved carefree playing, socializing with friends, and time itself seemed to crawl as I anticipated an event, or like him, the arrival of something my life would just simply end

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I remember the day when I was a young girl and something caught a hold of my heart, perhaps bred by insecurity, and became my comfort as I acted on it, led captive to its land of fear. It wasn't a place for me. God had a better place for me.

I was not alone in my exile. God's children are held captive everyday, hopelessly devoted to the bondage of debt, fears, lusts, substances with empty promises, addictions, and our blind adoration to things we label as entertainment. We convince

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With her dark curly hair laying close to her neck and maybe even a little scruffy from a day at play, she composed herself enough to sing a song to her Daddy. The words seemed to be made up as she went because of her overwhelming excitement at his arrival, but maybe they were really thought out and a complete rendition of what was truly in her heart. She finally had his attention and he certainly had all of hers. Since I wasn't there, I can imagine my beautiful niece had a pretend microphone

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As far back as I can remember her hands were in a bowl of flour, mixing up another batch of biscuits. I used to think they were the best in the world, big and fluffy. If it wasn’t a bowl of flour, her hands were busy in loads of laundry, perpetual cleaning, frying up massive meals in an iron skillet to feed a family of six, or most importantly, about her Father’s business. I can hardly remember a time when she didn’t have her hands busy doing something. No matter how hard the years had become,

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In a prison cell, he penned the words that lay highlighted in pink centuries later in the one thing I hold closest to my heart—my bible. Paul prayed for the saints that they would learn to sense what is vital and prize what is of real value.

Where is my focus Lord? Do I heal the brokenhearted the way you heal them? Do I feed the hungry the way you feed them? Do I forgive the way you forgive?

What is my perception of them? Do I see them through eyes of grace

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