• The Writer


    Hello! My name is Laura, welcome to my blog! I write weird stories, collect dragon plushies and stay up too late with my nose in a book. I am a wife, mom and child saved by grace. My hope is that you find encouragement here or at least a smile or too.
    God bless!

  • “Now go, write it before them in a table, and note it in a book that it may be for the time to come forever and ever.”
    ~Isaiah 30:8.

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  • Quotes

    We have come from God, and inevitably the myths woven by us, though they contain error, will also reflect a splintered fragment of the true light, the eternal truth that is with God. Indeed only by myth-making, only by becoming 'sub-creator' and inventing stories, can Man aspire to the state of perfection that he knew before the Fall. Our myths may be misguided, but they steer however shakily towards the true harbour, while materialistic 'progress' leads only to a yawning abyss and the Iron Crown of the power of evil.
    ~J.R.R. Tolkien

    "The only just literary critic," he concluded, "is Christ, who admires more than does any man the gifts He Himself has bestowed."
    ~J.R.R. Tolkien

    “Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory. If a soldier is imprisioned by the enemy, don't we consider it his duty to escape?. . .If we value the freedom of mind and soul, if we're partisans of liberty, then it's our plain duty to escape, and to take as many people with us as we can!”
    ~J.R.R. Tolkien

    "Writers who see by the light of their Christian faith will have, in these times, the sharpest eye for the grotesque, for the perverse, and for the unacceptable. To the hard of hearing you shout, and for the almost-blind you draw large and startling figures."
    ~Flannery O'Connor

    You write to communicate to the hearts and minds of others what’s burning inside you. And we edit to let the fire show through the smoke.
    ~Arthur Polotnik

    Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them.
    ~Nathaniel Hawthorne

    "There are forms of insanity that condemn people to hear voices against their will, but as writers we invite ourselves to hear voices without relinquishing our hold on reality or our right to control."
    ~Writing Fiction by Janet Burroway

    Christians have sometimes been suspicious of stories, because they really can influence you. If you read the Twilight novels once a month for a year, I think you'd be a different human afterward—and not a sparkly one.
    ~Nate Wilson

Dance in the Rain

Look up my child and dance in the rain,
I’ll wash away the burden of pain.
Your fears are but shadows that cover the road,
I’m walking beside you, please give me your load.

This life may harm you and people tear down,
But keep your heart open for my still small sound.
You may feel devoured, with nothing to gain.
So take my hand my beloved and dance in the rain.

Farewell Dreams

Dreams.  We all have them and we all tend to cling to them as if they are our only life source.  I know I did.

Dreams are wonderful.  That fanciful daydream, longing, secret wish or hopeful thought, stirring in us an indescribable, uncomprehending desire to act on them and make them more than dreams, but realities.  Dreams such as…

Dreams of being successful.

Dreams of finding love, marrying.

Dreams of a family.

Dreams of being more.

Dreams of achieving all your higher goals.

And so many others.

Any of those dreams sound familiar?  Do they prick a cord in your heart, stirring up that same wishful fantasy they stir in mine?

Dreams are so precious aren’t they?  They’re apart of us, woven into who we are and every fiber of our being.  That’s why it’s so hard to let them go.  Yes, let them go.

2012 is drawing to a close, and as 2013 approaches, I think back over the past year and everything God has brought me through.  He has revealed so much to me over the past twelve months, taught me so much.  He has shown me how to be His hero, not just how to write about them, but how to be one.  He’s taught me a deeper meaning of love, how it endures, holds fast, never gives up and never lets go.  And, how to let go of my dreams.  The last was the hardest lesson to lean, one that brought many long nights and tear-filled prayers.

I’ve known for a long time God was calling me to relinquish my dreams to Him.  I thought I had, but no, I was still holding tight to them, my knuckles turning white with the strain.  It was tormenting.  Yes, tormenting.  Some of you reading this will understand, and really, this post is for you.  My dreams were beautiful, shaped through out the years of my life, from my child’s mind to now, and God wanted them.

This year was more of a struggle for me regarding letting my dreams go than any other year before, and yet, it was so wonderful at the same time.  The way God began revealing Himself to me, pulling my heart ever closer to His.  It hurt, it was hard, but it was beautiful.

It seems so many times, we pray and ask God to change us, to take control of every aspect of our lives, but we really don’t know what we’re asking for.  Complete and utter surrender, of, EVERYTHING.  Dreams included.  It’s funny, when we surrender our lives, we list things like money, job, school, family, heath, choices etc, things we can see, feel and touch, but we don’t consider our dreams as part of that list.  Yet, the reality is, our dreams are something God desires above the physical.  Why?  Because He has dreams for us too, and when we let ours go, He can give us His.  When we say goodbye to our dreams, we say hello to the wonderful things God has in store.

I never imagined it would turn out like this.  Never in my wildest dreams.  When I thought of letting my dream go, I thought I was giving them up.  In a way I was, I was emotionally giving up what I desired because I wanted God’s best, and if my dreams were getting in the way of that, then they were something I needed to sacrifice.  So, one night, I tearfully, even reluctantly, brought those dreams to the alter, laid them there, and let them go.  I asked God to make His dreams my dreams, and I gave Him the desires of my heart.   It was the hardest thing I have ever done, but I did it.

Did I feel relieved after?  Yes and no.   Yes, because I knew God would take care of those dreams, and do what was best for me and those dreams.  He was in control now.  No, because my human mind could not comprehend what I had just done.  I had let everything go, I had let my chance at those dreams go…but had I really?  A few weeks after that night, an amazing thing happened.  God have those dreams back to me, and it was wonderful.  (Eventually, I will tell you about those dreams, when the time is right.)

No one knows the desires of our hearts better than our Father in Heaven, and no one wishes to grant them more than He does.  I think too often we let what we want, what we want to hold on to get in the way of that.  We have to completely surrender those desires to Him before He can give them to us.  We have to be willing to let Him have our lives in their entirety if we want the blessings He has in store for those who trust in Him.

From someone who has hurt, struggled, bleed, and cried herself to sleep holding on to her dreams for dear life, because she thought if she let them go, she would lose them forever, let me tell you, God is wonderful.  He will not take your dreams and cast them aside after you place them into His hands.  Rather, He will lovingly take them, and create a more beautiful reality with them, then you could ever imagine.

Dreamer, don’t give up.  Letting them go is not the end, it is merely the beginning.

The Changing of a Season

Once again we find ourselves at the changing of seasons.  The time has come to bid farewell to the warmth of Summer and welcome in the coolness of Fall.  Summer hung tight for a while here in the Cascades, but it has at long last given way to my favorite season, Autumn.  The approaching of Autumn has always felt like the coming of an old friend.  Every year I welcome the colder weather, the colors of the leaves, the wet smell that hangs in the air, and the feeling of new beginnings it always brings.  The spirit of adventure, the warm of love, the excitement of things to come, always seem to grow stronger as the weather turns cold.

Autumn Landscape

Autumn Landscape (Photo credit: blmiers2)

Though the summer of 2012 is over, the memories of those four months will be with me always.  So much changed, so much happened, I feel as if I became a different person within that small span of time.  I will never forget the weeks spent with close friends, the moments we shared, the laughter, the amazing experiences, they will always have a special place in my heart. We may be saying goodbye to summer, but we will never say goodbye to what we shared and have together.

What is it about the turning of summer into autumn that strikes such a cord?  Is it the thought of spending cold nights curled up in a blanket, sitting by a warm fire with a cup of hot coco?  Is it the sound of the leaves crunching underfoot and the chill of the wind on your face?  Is it the coming of the holidays, and times spend with family and friends?  Or is it all of that?  Something always stirs in me when I see those first shades of orange, yellow and red begin to appear on the trees and smell the coming of colder weather.  The coming of change.  It seems so much changes at the coming of Autumn, more than any other season.  We put things of the summer away and prepare for the season ahead.

The hammock has been put away.  It’s sparks a small feeling of melancholy to go outside and no longer see it stretched between those two trees.  It had become a friend, holding fond memories of lounging in it’s green roped webbing, reading a book, listening to the wind through the leaves, and almost falling asleep within its fond embrace.  But at the same time, it sparks thoughts of days yet to come, in another year, in a future season, of once again lounging under the trees and watching the leaves dance above me.

Autumn is a time when we reflect on the year behind and dream of the year ahead.  Perhaps that is why it feels so different than any other season.  It’s a collision; of the past, the present, and the future.  Memories, hopes, and dreams.  When God gets out His paint brush and coats the world in brilliance.

Happy Autumn everyone.

What things does it hold for you?

Finding Love

Love.

What comes to mind when you hear that word?

An emotion?

A feeling?

Your significant other?

Over the past eight months one theme as come out of every event, lesson, or blessing in my life.  The theme of love.  I thought I understood love before.  Understood what it was like to love someone, to love God, love your family, but really, I didn’t.  Even now, though it is more clear to me than ever before, I know I didn’t know the half of it.

What is love to you?  Real love.  True love.  Love that would sacrifice everything, even it’s own desires, just for you.  You.  Only you.

God lead me to write a love story.  A love story that follows His leading and not the leading of the heart.

He’s been showing me how to love my family.

He’s been teaching me how to love my future husband and be patient for his returned love.

He’s whispered comforting words of love into my heart during lonely nights when I have nearly cried myself to sleep.

He’s shown me His love through the love of a friend.

He’s shown me His love and what He can do with it in the hearts of young people who have a passion to serve Him as a body of believers.

I have been overwhelmed with joy and happiness for the past several weeks, and I suddenly realized, part of that joy was His love pouring over me.  Never before have a felt God’s love in this way.  Though my heart may be sore with a fear that tries to consume me, I can’t help smiling, and laughing with shear joy because I now God loves me.  Me!  And is looking out for me, has my best interest at heart, holds my life in His almighty hands, and, loves me.

What does love look like to me?

It looks like a cross.

A man.

The Son of God.

The timeless, almighty, all knowing, infinite, righteous, creator of the world, stepping into time, separating Himself from God the Father, taking on my sins, past, present and future, before I was even born, with my name in His heart.  Dying, suffering more than anyone ever has or ever will.  Breaking His own heart, because he, loves me.

Because He has a plan for my life.  An amazing plan.

Because He wanted to bring me into His family.

Because He wants me to spend eternity with Him.

Because He… loves… me.

I’ve grown up being told, knowing that God loved me, but never before, have I truly understood the depth of that love.  How it was so much more that just dying for me and paying the prince for my sin, but also providing, guiding, guarding, disciplining, comforting, bringing me hope.

Now I understand and possess a love that can span the depth of time.

A love that can breach any wall.

Soften any heart.

Heal any wound.

Work miracles.

Change the world.

It’s impossible.

It’s crazy.

It’s unbelievable.

It’s REAL.

A love that I have.

A love that is freely given to me, me, who could never love like that.

I’m overwhelmed.

Humbled.

Speechless.

This love has broken my selfish heart.

Filled my eyes with tears.

Lifted up my soul with joy.

And that’s just the beginning.

I’ve found love.

Have you?

His Blood (A Story for Good Friday)

No, that’s can’t be him.  How can that be him?

The crowd thronged around me.  Hundreds of people were pushing and shoving, trying to get a clear view of the procession moving up the street.  I stared at the man being driven along by the whips of Roman soldiers, the weight of a crosses beams pressing against his bleeding shoulder.  I wanted to rush in and set him free.  I knew the sting of those whips, knew the humiliation they brought.

How could they be doing this to him?  What had he done?  A lump formed in my throat, I tried to swallow it, but it wouldn’t yield.  What had he done?  He saved me.  Me, a bitter slave, he had called me by name.  He had done the same for so many others.  Why?  Jehovah why?!

“Dafydd!”

I turned and looked over my shoulder.  Laurel was trying to get to me through the crowd.  I forced my way to her.  Once I reached her she took my hand and pulled me away from the crowd.  The throng continued to move up the street.

“Dafydd, it’s him isn’t it?” She looked up at me, tears glistening in her eyes.  Those eyes, not long ago they were clouded and couldn’t see.  Now she stared up at me, her eyes clear and whole.

I nodded.

“Why?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“Can’t we do something?”

I shook my head.  “Come,” I squeezed her hand.  “The people have moved on, if we don’t hurry, we will miss him.”

Laurel gripped my hand and let me lead her up the street.  We passed through the gate and stared at the sight that met our eyes.  Golgotha, the place of the skull. The Romans preferred this spot for their executions.  It was outside a city gate, on raised ground where everyone could see.  The people were gathered around the hill, I could hear women wailing.  Admits the calmer of voices and the wails of the anguished the strike of a hammer rang out along with the cries of a man.

My stomach knotted.

We made our way up the hill.  As we neared the top Roman soldiers heaved on ropes and three crosses rose up, each with a man nailed to the beams.  Laurel pulled me to a stop, covering her mouth to stifle a cry.

There he was, Jesus, the master, hanging there, dying.  No!  My own eyes filled with tears and I feel to my knees.  Jehovah no!  Laurel knelt beside me, her body shacking with sobs.  I raised my eyes and gazed at his altered form.  His body was so bloody, his face so torn, I hardly recognized him.  Could it really be him?  Maybe it was all a dream, just a terrible dream.  A crown of thorns dug into his skull, a mocking sigh hung over his head, “The King of The Jews”.  It was real, all of it.

A group of robed priests stood not too far from where Laurel and I knelt.  I glanced at them.  They’re faces were stoic.  What did they think of the injustice they had caused?  An innocent man was dying before them, and they just stood and watched.  I knew the blood of the master was on their hands.

I clenched my fists.  Before, I would have cursed them, wished hell to fall on their heads, but now, now I pitied them.  I looked back to the cross, his cross.  He was the reason the hate was gone from my heart, and now he was dying.  They had killed him.

Someone shoved by me.  I fell forward, catching myself before my face could slam into the ground.  My hands landed in wetness.  I raised them, staring at me palms.  Blood covered my hands.  I looked down at the ground, a trail of red spread from where I knelt to the cross where Jesus hung.  Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Dafydd?”  Laurel looked at me.

“His blood… His blood is on my hands.”

Today in Hell, By Morning, In Paradise

This is a story I wrote for my Fiction Writing class.  Let me know what you think.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I would die at dawn, the guard told me that evening. 

As he held a plate of stale bread inches away from my groping hand he said with a sneer.   “We do not feed the condemned, Christianus.”  Christian. 

He spat the word out like bad wine and retreated, taking the treasured food with him.  I clutched at the bars of my cell staring after him, listening to his footsteps echo and fade into nothing.  Hunger clawed at my stomach, a painful ache digging through my gut.  Was it hunger?  Or was it the reality of my fate?  Tomorrow I would die.  I sank to the ground and wrapped my arms around my thin frame, the chains about my ankles ratting with the movement.  The coarse wool of my ragged clothing cut into my skin, the smell of my own filth hung thick in the air of my little cell.  I held my breath and squeezed my eyes close, shutting everything out.  No, no, NO!  What had brought me to this? 

My ears began to ring, my lungs begged for air.  I held on, maybe, maybe I could end it all right here, right now, save myself the pain of a Roman execution.  My life is no longer in my hands.  I had said those words, all thoughs years ago, putting my fate in another’s hands.    I gasped, opening my eyes and heaving in great gulps of air.  Tears stung my eyes and traced salty trails down my checks. 

As a boy, my father had told me men didn’t cry, but my father hadn’t known what would happen.  He hadn’t known the Romans would come and kill him.  He hadn’t known I would be taken to live out my days as a slave, never again to see my beloved Britton.  So I cried.  I cried for the past, for the boy I had once been, free in my homeland.  I cried for my fate, for the flames that awaited me come the dawn. 

My heart filled with anguish I raised my tear stained face to the small shaft of light flickering against the wall from a torch across the way. 

“Deus donavi meus ultionis!”  God give me vengeance!  I shook my fist, yelling in the Latin tongue at the light as if it represented the presence of God in this foul place.  Give me vengeance. 

My life is no longer in my hands.  I had given it away, let it go.  He had given his, what more was I to do with mine?  

I was afraid to die.  Afraid of the pain, but I could still escape it, I could still live. 

“Deny, deny your faith and you shall go free.”

I stared at the procurator; my chains seemed to grow heavier as if to embellish his words.  Deny, simple enough.  They were words only were they not?  God would still see what was in my heart, see I still believed though my tongue said otherwise.  I could live, continue serving Him.  What good was I dead?  All I had to do was say three simple words – “I deny Christ” – and I would go free.  Free.  The flames would devour another martyr, but not me. 

“Well?  What say you?”  The procurator stood looking down his nose at me, awaiting my reply.  “Stop preaching this false faith, deny the Christian God and your life will be spared.” 

Why was I hesitating?  Why was I silent?  Lord, I do not want to die.

The procurator gave an exasperated sigh and waved his hand at the guards.  “Take him away.”

I was dragged to me feet and hauled from the room, my chains clattering on the marble floor.

“There is still time, if you should choose to change your mind.”  The procurator’s words fallowed me from the hall, ringing in my ears.

I thought of them now, wondering where I would be and what I would be doing at this moment had I said those words.  Perhaps I’d be sitting with Laurel, our hands clasped together, speaking of our upcoming marriage.  Laurel, I could still see her face when they came to take me away.  She cried my name, her voice wrought with anguish and fear.

“Dafydd!”   

Oh, to see her again!  To lose myself in her dark eyes and the sound of her bell-like laughter. 

“Lord,” I prayed.  “Protect her; do not let her suffer my fate.” 

My fate; I wondered at my words.  Had I chosen to die?  I remembered that day, how many years ago?  The teacher, dying in agony on a Roman cross above my head, hardly recognizable as the man I had known.  He was innocent of any crime, just as I was now, but they had killed him and he had allowed it.  He had chosen death, could I do the same?  I followed him, I spoke in his name, but could I die for him?  So many had died already, they did not deny him.    

“Lord, you can see my heart, can you not?  You can see my fear, how can I do this?  Can I not serve you more by living to spread your Word?  What of my life with Laurel?  I will never see her again in this life, never have a life together.  God, how is this part of your will?  What have I done that you would abandon me to the flames?  Let me live!” 

My voice echoed back to me, bouncing against the stone walls, let me live! 

“He never abandons us Dafydd.  We are mere men; we cannot comprehend his thoughts or his plans.”  Stephen, his words returned to me.  “He sets a path before us and leaves us with the choice to walk it.  What will you choose Dafydd?” 

Stephen died, stoned for his beliefs.  He had stood fast, facing death.  Could I do the same? 

“Could I?” 

I thought back to the day I had met the Teacher.  The day he had given Laurel back her sight and in a way, he had given sight to my blind eyes.  I was a bitter slave, cursing those who had killed my family and taken me from my homeland to live a life of bondage among a people who thought of me as chattel.  My heart was filled with nothing but hate.  Laurel had tried to show me love, she had taught me Latin, nursed my wounds after beatings, but the hate in my heart blinded me to her kindness.  I was more a captive to myself and the bitterness inside then I ever was as a slave.  It ate at me, tearing my mind apart; then he came.

He healed my shattered heart.  Never before had I felt so liberated.  The hate, the bitterness, the hurt, it was all swept away at the touch of his hand and the sound of his voice calling my name.  He had shown me how to forgive those who had slaughtered my family and enslaved me.  Though by law I was still a slave, in my heart and soul, I was freed forever.

How could I deny that?  How could I deny the hope, the peace, the joy, the freedom I had been given?  I couldn’t.  I could not betray the love that had given me new life. 

“Acceptus calicis ex meus,” Take this cup from me.  “My life is in your hands.”            

As a cold chill crawled up my spine I shivered.  The night would soon be over, my last night on earth.  I leaned against the moist stones of my cell.  The slow drip of water sounded from somewhere in the gloom.  Laughter of the guards and cries of fellow captives could be heard as faint whispers in the silence of the prison.  I looked around me, the stench, the darkness, the hunger, this place was hell, but tomorrow, tomorrow I would find paradise.

My life is in your hands.     

The End

 

Pronunciation guide:

Dafydd – (Da-vith)
     a: short as in can

Peace in the Crazy

If you could see my calendar for this month your head would spin. My head spins just thinking about it! It would be so easy to through the little black thing against the wall and just freak out. Scream, run around the house, then curl up in a dark corner and cry, wondering how in the world I am going to get through it all. And trust me, I’ve come within a hair of doing just that. Why is it in these times I forget, so very quickly, that I’m not alone? Here I am carrying this heavy burden, each step more difficult than the last, dragging myself through the craziness of life. But all the while, a peaceful Voice is calling me to be still and let The One who never tires wipe away my cares.

How soon I forget.

And they that know thy name will put their trust in thee: for thou, LORD, hast not forsaken them that seek thee. ~Psalm 9:10

In the midst of maddens, in the overwhelming sweep of the tide, He is there waiting to catch me. In the heaviness of life, the crushing weight of hurt, He is there holding me to His heart. In the chaos and confusion, in the overstuffed schedules, He is there waiting to release my yoke.

I sought the LORD, and he found me, and delivered me from all my fears. ~Psalms 34:4

It’s in these times we must not, at all costs, let our quiet time with The Lord fall through the cracks. It is there we will find peace in the crazy. The joy of His percents, the hope of deliverance, the peace of knowing we are never alone, and the reassurance He will not take us through more than we can bear.

Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the LORD. ~Palms 31:24

Oh Lord, help me not forget: You are the peace in my crazy, the joy in my heartache, my ever present friend. My burden is heavy, but I know You are there helping my lift it.

The LORD liveth; and blessed be my rock; and let the God of my salvation be exalted. ~Psalm 18:46

How God Changed My Heart

“I hate Heart of Hope.  When this draft is done I don’t care if I never lay eyes on it again.  I am so sick of it I don’t even care if it ever gets published.  I just hate it.  God help me.”- Journal entry 4/12/10

I wrote that.  I meant every word.  I believe “hate” is a very strong word, and it’s not one that I use lightly.  Not only was this my attitude, I had also been wordlessly hating it in my heart for some time. 

It’s not any good.

What was I thinking when I wrote this?

Whose idea was this story anyway?  It stinks!

I’m no good.  Why did I ever think I could write? 

Wow, this thing just shouts “FIRST BOOK!”

What a mess. 

These thoughts and many more were my constant companions as I wrote, rewrote and read over.  I dreaded other people reading it, afraid that they too would see just how horrible it was.  I dreaded reading through it myself.  How was I to get through a book I despised?  How could I even consider sending to a publisher?  That was crazy!  Who would want it?  I went on mopping about it for months, silently disgusted with the whole thing.  Then that still small voice whispered;

You were learning.

You were following My Call.

It was My idea.  Do My ideas stink?

Yes, it is your first book, but it’s beautiful.  It’s from your heart.  It’s from Me.

You’re a mess, but I never gave up on you.

Oh dear Father.  What had I done?  He had given me the story, placed it on my heart, called me to be His writer to tell the world of the hope He gives us.  What had I done?

 Despised. 

Despised because it was my story and I had written it. 

But I had it all wrong. 

It wasn’t my story, not one word.  Hadn’t I given it to God a hundred times?  Hadn’t I said in prayer over and over again, “This is Yours Father, write through me.  I don’t have the words, only You do.”

But I had forgotten. 

Forgotten my promise. 

Forgotten Heart of Hope didn’t belong to me.

He woke me up.  Broke my discontent attitude apart and turned it around. 

Now, I’ve made my peace with Heart of Hope.  I still have to battle my human mind and thoughts whenever I look it and read it, but I’m on the right path.  The story is so much more than just my first book, it’s more than an allegory about a Spiritual journey, it’s a story that God gave me.  A story He used to teach me so much.  To trust Him, believe in Him, give Him everything and let Him have it all. 

Thank you Father for Heart of Hope.  Through it, You have changed my life.

Peace Be Still

It doesn’t rhyme, but this is my heart. 

Dedicated to everyone in UCG.  Love you guys.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The world can tumble all around, seas can rise and seas can fall,

But I will listen to that voice, that calmly whispers in my ear.

Peace, be still.

Hate can rage and pain devour, shackles bind and cage me in,

But I will cling to that hand, that gently guides me through it all.

Peace, be still.

Life can take my time and goals, hem me in and not let go,

But I will seek that life so dear, He gave it up to let me live.

Peace, be still.

Though guilt may chase, and sorrows fight, and evil come knocking at my door,

I will stand with the One who guards me, through the all consuming fire.

Peace, be still.

Though family leaves and friends forsake me, though God seems far away,

Through times of joy and times of sadness, I will lean on Him who rules it all.

Peace, be still.

Soul Food

As I read through the Bible I write down the verses that jump out at me.  Most are about encouragement, stranding strong in hardships, holding fast in the storms, focusing your heart on the Lord and letting God change you.  I’ve been able to encourage others with them and now I am posting them here for you all.  🙂

Romans 8:28 And we now that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

Psalm 57:7  My hear is fixed, O God, my heart is fixed: I will sing and give praise.

Psalm 51:10-12  Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.  Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy holy spirit from me.  Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit.

Psalm 51:17  The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.

Roman 12:2  And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God.

Romans: 12:12  Rejoicing in hope,; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer.

Romans: 13:12  The night is far spent, the day is at hand: let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armor of light.

Isaiah 35:4  Say to them that are of a fearful heart, Be strong, fear not: behold, your God will come with vengeance, even God with a recompense; he will come and save you.

II Timothy 1:9  Who hath saved us, and called us with an holy calling, not according to out works, but according to his own purpose and grace, which was given us in Christ Jesus before the world began.

What are some of your favorite verses?

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