I’ll never forget my first rollercoaster ride. Neither will my sister, Michele—my unfortunate companion.
Poor Michele. She, who even at ten years old loved rollercoasters, didn’t know that during our hour-long wait in line, my second thoughts were multiplying. This was my first rollercoaster, and I was beginning to think this wasn’t such a great idea. By the time we were being seated, I was truly afraid.
As we pulled the lapbar down from above, I remember saying, “Why am I doing this? I want to get off.” But it was too late; we were already chugging up that first incline for the first drop.
Emotions are a little like roller coasters, aren’t they? Up and down and looping around. Even as you’re going up, you find your stomach bracing for the coming plunge. And that’s on the good days.
Then there are the really scary days when the coaster takes us upside down, and we feel like we’re turning inside out. Sometimes we get stuck spiraling through loops of anxiety, depression, anger, or other emotions from which we fear we’ll never escape. Continue reading
I almost drowned once. It was at a friend’s birthday party, of all places. I think I was six. Thankfully, I was rescued, but I still remember that sense of helplessness as I was engulfed in the water and knew I couldn’t swim.
(Days later, I remember telling my sister, “I should have just gone down to the bottom and walked back to the shallow end of the pool.” Unfortunately, it’s not quite that easy when you’re drowning.)
Do you know what it feels like to drown?
I’m guessing you do. Maybe you didn’t slip into the deep end of a pool, but you’re over your head in responsibilities. In grief. In fear. In need.
How do you even pray then? Continue reading
Do you ever feel that God has hidden His face from you?
Probably not. I don’t either, of course. (I don’t think respectable Christians feel that way.)
But sometimes the psalmists felt it. Their words describe it as an experience with a pain scale ranging from desperate to terrifying: Continue reading
One of the most shocking biographies I remember reading was that of William Cowper.
Even if you don’t recognize his name, you’ve probably sung his hymns (including “There Is a Fountain Filled with Blood”) or used the phrase he coined, “God moves in a mysterious way.”
It’s been years since I read his biography, but in recent research, I came across his name and reflected for a few minutes on some of the most extraordinary and meaningful aspects of his life.
Cowper’s salvation testimony is remarkable because he was saved as a direct result of admittance to a mental asylum after failed suicide attempts. The doctor who treated Cowper was a born again Christian who shared the gospel with him. The night and day difference in Cowper’s life after his salvation is undeniable.
Most of us would be very comfortable with Cowper’s testimony if it ended there. But it didn’t. Although he didn’t struggle mentally to the same degree after his salvation as he had before, he did battle mental illness (including severe depression and two more mental breakdowns) for the rest of his life. Continue reading
When I was in second grade, I read a children’s biography of Benjamin Franklin, and in the depths of my heart, I knew what I wanted to be—a printer.
It must have been a picture in the book of Ben Franklin’s printing days, because somewhere I got a firm mental picture of my future. In my picture, which I can still see in a clear black and white drawing (yes, it must have been a picture in the book), I was settled back in a comfy chair with my feet propped up on a workbench. To my left was a printing press rolling out new pages, and in my hands were the first pages of the freshly printed manuscript.
What a life! Relaxing, printing, and getting paid to read. A little girl’s dream.
Fast forward several years—twelve years ago this weekend to be exact. I’m driving three boxes with five hundred copies of a brand new magazine for its first distribution. Continue reading
Have you ever read a fictional or biographical book minus the first chapter?
I remember as a young child sitting in the book closet of our home (I never realized until I just typed that phrase that we had a “book closet” rather than a “linen closet”! I’m thankful my parents cared that much to keep us stocked with good reading!) and reading Treasures of the Snow by Patricia St. John.
The book so profoundly affected me that as seven year old, I determined I was going to be a wood carver…and for several years saved money to purchase carving tools. In hindsight and judging by my decidedly un-artistic abilities, it’s probably good that this dream never materialized into mangled pieces of wood. But I digress.
One aspect I remember most about reading Treasures of the Snow was its missing cover and front pages. The story begins with a Christmas Eve scene in the Alps of Switzerland. In the first chapter, the main characters and their relationship both to one another and to the plot of the story is set…but I missed some of these pages. Without these important details, I struggled to make sense of following pages.
It’s too bad to miss the beginning of a book you’re reading. But what if you miss the beginning of the story you’re living? Continue reading
The first time I found poison ivy, I was looking for something entirely different—a ring, to be exact.
My dad had just purchased an eighty-acre apple orchard in tremendous need of cultivation and care (which is a generous way of saying it was neglected and run down), and our family was in the process of moving there. At the time of this incident, we were staying at the orchard for a few days.
The trees were in full bloom with petals already dropping, making a gorgeous canopy of white flowers above with a white carpet beneath. To a twelve-year-old city girl, this orchard idea seemed quaint and romantic. It was the perfect setting for a walk of the sort Anne of Green Gables would have taken, and I probably imagined myself her while I walked up and down the rows of apple trees absentmindedly pulling my ring up and down my finger. Continue reading
Time for a confession: I’m behind on my to do list—like, really behind. (There, I said it.)
The truth is, I have more on my list for yesterday that is unfinished than I can think of today. I would say that this is just a busy season, but it would be more accurate to say that it’s a busier season. I’m always busy (thankfully so), but currently, I’m in a season full of deadlines and (seemingly) short on creativity.
I don’t like being behind…and I’m guessing that you don’t either.
The good news is that there is a sure-fire way to avoid it. Seriously. If you follow this simple step, you’ll not get behind on a single big project again. Ever.
The secret? Continue reading
I saw a date in the margin of my Bible this morning that made me start—2/26/04. It wasn’t just the date that took me by surprise, but the realization that it has been exactly ten years since that day.
I remember where I was when I wrote that date—on the top bunk in a guest room in Bowie, Texas.
I remember the verse I read just before I wrote that date. (I don’t actually have to remember that one—it’s right there in the margin of my Bible. But I remember it anyway.) Psalm 86:4, “Rejoice the soul of thy servant: for unto thee, O Lord, do I lift up my soul.”
I remember what I did after I read that verse and wrote it in my journal. I stepped outside the guest house with a spiral notebook and sat on the back stoop to write an article for the magazine I was editing at the time. The article appeared in the June/July ’04 issue of Stepping in the Light, and it was titled “Sing, Little Bird!” The article provides some insight into that day: Continue reading
Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us.—Matthew 1:23
You know what Emmanuel means—“God with us.” But do you know what “God with us” means? Continue reading