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I’m Not Proud to Be a Christian. (Just: grateful, humbled, in awe of God’s grace to me, the list goes on.)

I sometimes find myself wanting to wave a flag and declare:  I’m proud to be a Christian. Except. I’m not. It’s Pride Pressure. Pride pressure is when you see a bunch of facebook posts that (basically) threaten to judge you if you don’t post your “pride.” Some even imply that Jesus will deny you if you don’t repost His pic.…

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That’s Not the Nest We’re Looking For….

“Mom! HURRY! You won’t believe it! There’s a nest in the campfire wood!” I have a thing for nests. Enter “Even here” or “Nest” in the search bar and you’ll see what I mean. Nests have become a talisman or ebenezer of sorts. Something physical that reminds me of God’s presence, help and action in our lives. They tend to…

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Even Here. Sometimes the nest finds me, God always does.

After a long week of appointments and frustration “Don’t drop the milk.” was my only cognizant thought I could manage as I made my way to the front door. I was carrying enough flimsy plastic grocery bags threaded over my hands up my wrists to stretch my arms like the loverly ladies in Africa wear bangles to stretch their necks……

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devotional thoughts

Of Turtles and Trust and Trusting Again…. Even Here.

She was an average turtle. Living an average turtle life. Like turtles do. Every day, along with her turtle friends- she slowly made her way to the water lily and cat tail lined pond-that she called home. It’s where she found both the beauty and sustenance she needed to survive and thrive. One day, as she walked on the cool…

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Dear Messed Up Mom of Messed Up Kids- it’s not your fault. Dear Perfect Mom of Perfect Kids- it’s not your’s either.

The first child was beautifully, perfectly born with a spock-like pointy ear and eyes that needed bifocals at 2. The next was beautifully, perfectly born with lungs that preferred to wheeze as opposed to nicely filling with air and oxygenating blood and a “hip click” that caused us to diaper splint him like a baby yogi until his hip settled…

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In which I get implants, No, really. I am- but not that kind.

Photogenic is not a term anyone has ever used to describe me- but over the past few years I’ve become obnoxious about it. I no longer smile for pics. (Unless you really beg, or threaten to take my cupcakes.) Instead of smiling- I make faces. tongue out, eyes crossed, the goofier the better. It’s not just because I’m a goof. (Admittedly,…

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A Lesson in Reverence Learned at the Halal Deli…

I was beyond offended. “Excuse me? I can’t even TOUCH it? I may be: What? Unclean? “  I wondered if I was on a hidden camera show. “Is this a joke?” I’m a lover and collector of books. I am compelled to at least run my fingers over the spines. If the slightest bit of my interest is piqued, I…

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Here Comes The Bride…. (I wished she’d died, well, not really I just wish she’d find some other family to be part of))

I sat in a be-ribboned garden chair, conflicted. “Does he know what he’s getting into?  How can he do this? Will it last? Does he really know her?  Does he know what I know about her?” The wedding march played in accompaniment as my thoughts ran on like a third grader’s sentences. I watched him at the sun-bathed altar. His eyes…

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devotions

the touchable bride.

Eyes welling with tears, I could barely read. My voice gained and subsequently: lost control.  I tried to maintain composure. I mostly- lost. Sure-this was partly due to the emotion I felt, at seeing “my girl” (albeit my girl shared most lovingly with her parents) all grown up and getting married. But, there was something else.   As I read the words as a blessing and…

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On a stone altar-I not only don’t GET Abraham, I want to hurt him….

The cold crept up though the granite boulder I sat on. It seeped through my well-padded backside and settled into my spine.  Cold, clumsy, fat and scared is how I felt. The sun had barely risen and held no warmth, except a promised one. I pulled my hoodie tighter around my growing stomach and turned the pages of my bible…

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