I am unable to get out there and help at this time, but I pray. I believe in the power behind gentle words of hope and declaration. I know God above hears our prayers through Jesus Christ, and responds in ways we may not understand or see. Faith takes on new meaning in times of unknown and hope leads the way.
Bipolar Life- Reclaiming Victory
I believe in His mighty ways, but I wonder who I ticked off. These irrational thoughts lead back to my religious beginnings of doing more rather than being enough.
Five Minute Friday- Prompt Word “Before”
Time would heal my wounds, and courage would eventually merge the pieces of my soul. Before God was my everything, I was a floating vessel in search of solid ground.
Their Addiction~My Journey- Where Did I Go Wrong?
The impact of addiction on a family is substantial.
Their Addiction-My Journey- “Turn to Christ”
"You run from Jesus, and the world attacks you mercilessly. You run toward Jesus, and the world attacks you, but you are loved through mercy, forgiveness, and grace. Either direction we go, the world is there, but one direction is peace, the other chaos. Choose wisely."
Poetry- Covered Sin
Forgiven and free.
Five Minute Friday- Prompt Word “Life”
Life happens to us all. I admit I pouted more than I should. As a non-crier, I cried a few times. I begged God to end this cycle, and we fought in the canyons of hopelessness. He won.
Bipolar Life-The Journal #66, Deflated
For fear of losing myself, I take time to get in my head and to lift my spirits through the strength of Jesus Christ. On my own, I fail to save myself. I know this, so I fight to reach in and surrender.
Five Minute Friday-Sacrifice
I remember the first time I saw the Mel Gibson film, "Passion of the Christ." Every part of that movie brought history to life. The sacrifice of Jesus Christ on that cross impacted me. If I close my eyes and you do, it paralyzes and delivers a punch to the gut, still.
Their Addiction-My Journey- The Road to Recovery
How do we love those who not only appear unlovable in their mess but also hate us in it, as well? I had dodged fists and verbal attacks, put up bail money (only once), picked up my grand-kids from a ravaged house with a passed out mom, and cleaned out more hidden empty bottles than I can count. Still, the pain I felt when the handcuffs went on killed me. The hopelessness was burning through my soul the way Satan enjoys.


