Friday, December 30, 2011
Wishing you a wonder-filled New Year! May your year be one in which you ...
1) Discover something new and wondrous about God
2) Discover something new and insightful about yourself
3) Discover something new and useful about your life
And may God overflow your life with His breathtaking wonder!
P.S. Only the Wind Remembers, a story about the wonder of God's love where you least expect it, is still available as an ebook for the sale price on Kindle/Nook.)
For Kindle: http://amzn.to/rNRMgy
For Nook: http://bit.ly/vL8AJv
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
Monday, December 26, 2011
For Kindle: http://amzn.to/rNRMgy
For Nook: http://bit.ly/vL8AJv
You can also download the free Kindle app for your PC and read ebooks from your computer. Here's the link for the free app: http://amzn.to/oNw3fJ
And here's the free Kindle app for your iPad: http://amzn.to/agJ2lC
And of course for a Mac, simply visit the app store and download the free Kindle app there.
And here's a bit about the book itself:
Making peace with the past...
Discovering the only love that heals...
Ishi: the last of his tribe, utterly alone in the white man's world.
Allison: abandoned as a child, haunted by dreams of a mother whose face she cannot recall.
In 1911, the last Yahi Indian walked out of the woods and into modern civilization for the first time. Driven from a life of hiding, Ishi longs for one thing: to tell a secret tale, a fable of his people that only he knows. Allison Morgan understands how important it is to obey the tenets of propriety, especially when her anthropologist husband is entrusted with the care of the last "Stone Age" Indian in North America. Yet something about Ishi stirs echoes of memories long forgotten, compelling her to defy the rules. Secretly, she learns Ishi's language. And then the tale begins, bringing with it the promise of hope long abandoned. But in the midst of renewed dreams, will a tangle of hidden motives, personal insecurities, and long-masked secrets destroy her once chance to discover the truth?
Based on actual historical events, Only the Wind Remembers invites you to a times when everything was not as it seemed, when a simple tale held the key to hope, when only the wind remembered what it meant to be free.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would one day walk on water?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy has come to make you new?
This Child that you delivered will soon deliver you.
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will give sight to a blind man?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy will calm the storm with His hand?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy has walked where angels trod?
When you kiss your little Baby you kissed the face of God?
Mary did you know.. Ooo Ooo Ooo
The blind will see.
The deaf will hear.
The dead will live again.
The lame will leap.
The dumb will speak
The praises of The Lamb.
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy is Lord of all creation?
Mary, did you know
that your Baby Boy would one day rule the nations?
Did you know
that your Baby Boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
The sleeping Child you're holding is the Great, I Am.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
A romance-shy veterinarian and a widowed health inspector hunt the killer who used mistletoe extract to poison pets and people in a Tennessee mountain town.
After being jilted by her fiancé, Kelly Granger buries her broken heart in her work as a veterinarian in her home town of Abbottsville, Tennessee, located in the Great Smoky Mountains. She and her assistant, Tim Hallock, battle to save community pets from a violent and mysterious illness. Is this sickness a danger to humans? Her question is answered when state health inspector Matt Bennett is sent to investigate local eating establishments, including Kelly’s sister’s restaurant, for the cause of poisoning among the patrons. Kelly refuses to believe that her sister served toxic mistletoe extract to her customers—yet mounting evidence points in that direction. Kelly puts herself in harm’s way, facing down a vicious dog and even more vicious people, to uncover a common denominator between the human and animal illnesses. Matt has his hands full keeping up with her, as well as proving himself worthy of her trust—and hopefully, her love. Unless she has her heart set on her veterinary assistant, Tim Hallock. The question won’t matter if his investigation sends Kelly’s sister to jail. She’ll never have anything to do with him then. They need to uncover the truth. But will the answer cost them more than their romance? Will it cost them their lives?
Kelly Granger stared into Nick Milton’s bloodshot eyes and suppressed a shiver. It wouldn’t do to betray her fear of him, any more than to give that advantage to a wild animal.
Beefy face taut, Nick leaned toward her over the counter of the veterinary clinic’s reception area. “If my dog don’t perk up and shake off that drug you pumped into him, I’ll come lookin’ for you. He’s been layin’ around all afternoon, worthless as a tick.”
The slurred words betrayed the alcohol he pickled himself in daily. How did Chelsea live with this guy?
“Mr. Milton, Brutus’s behavior posed a danger to himself, the staff and other animals. In order to give him his check-up and vaccinations, it was necessary to administer a mild sedative first. I assure you, he will be himself by morning, barring a little stiffness in the vaccination site, which will also disappear.”
There, she’d delivered a reasonable explanation, and her voice didn’t even quiver. If she’d discovered any sign of abuse on Nick’s Doberman, she would have turned the dog over to the SPCA to get the animal away from his disgusting owner.
“Highfalutin, la-de-da doctor!” Nick shook a ham-sized fist in her face. “I’m holdin’ you to them words.”
Kelly gripped the edge of the counter. She would not back away. This creep might have a reputation for temper, but she was not going to be cowed. This was her clinic, and she’d done nothing wrong . . . except send her assistant, Tim Hallock, home early. Tim might be half Nick’s size, but at least he could have called the cops.
Nick turned and stomped out the door, admitting a burst of chill air, which washed over Kelly. She allowed herself a shiver. Some people needed a muzzle and leash more than their pets. She wouldn’t mind calling the police to let them know that Nick Milton was driving drunk again, except he wasn’t driving.
The Milton’s beat-up van sat in a parking spot outside the clinic’s picture window. Nick’s son, Greg, perched behind the wheel. Kelly’s glance met the teenager’s, and kid offered his usual juvenile leer. She marched to the door and turned the deadbolt as the van chugged out of the parking lot, spewing dark smoke from its tailpipe.
Releasing a breath, she looked out the picture window, which revealed a panorama of white-topped mountain ridges looming over the struggling business district. Even with Christmas nearly upon them, traffic was thin this early evening. Vehicle headlights vied with the twinkle of Christmas lights adorning the facades of buildings. Thankfully, no one seemed headed for the veterinary clinic. She’d dealt with enough excitement for one day.
Brutus had been the easiest patient—a routine well-check. Six other pets, cradled by distraught owners—one of them Kelly’s sister—had been presented this afternoon, each animal exhibiting the same awful symptoms. She was keeping most of them overnight on IVs to rehydrate them. Her patients would live, but more by the grace of God than human skill. She’d never seen anything like it and prayed she never would again.
Had Tim remembered to prepare the biological samples for submission to the state lab? They needed to discover what had made the pets so ill.
Kelly headed for the pharmacy, loafers squeaking faintly on the linoleum. Her pharmacy was more like a large closet than a room. The package lay wrapped and labeled on the counter. Kelly smiled. Reliable was Tim’s middle name.
A note in his handwriting sat by the box. She picked it up and read, “Courier service unable to make the pick-up until late tomorrow afternoon. One of the hazards of living in a Tennessee mountain town.”
Kelly groaned. Compared to the frenzy of her Nashville vet school experience, she’d loved returning to the gracious pace of life in Abbottsville, nestled in the heart of the Great Smoky Mountains. But around here, tomorrow was soon enough for anything to happen. Might as well get home and put her feet up.
On the drive to her modest bungalow, her thoughts refused to wind down. What if the illness was an epidemic—something bacterial . . . or even viral? Or maybe it was as simple as a contaminated batch of pet food? But what if this was a contagion that could affect people? What if . . . Whoa, girl! No point in stressing over what had hit the pets in Abbottsville until the lab returned results.
Darkness had fully fallen when she turned the final corner onto her street. She accelerated and then eased off the gas pedal. What was up with this? The automatic timer on her Christmas lights should have had her place aglow with festive decorations, but the single-story home was dark. A faulty timer? Better than some expensive electrical issue. It wasn’t a power outage. The porch light glowed on the two-story house next door, but no holiday decorations. Probably because her yet-to-be-seen neighbor had moved in only yesterday.
Kelly wheeled the Explorer into the driveway, and the headlights passed over a scene of Christmas decoration carnage strewn across her snow-dusted lawn. What in the world? She halted the SUV at an angle and scanned the mess of tinsel, strings of lights, straw from the crèche and holly and pine garland. Her stomach knotted. Who would do such a thing? Then she spotted the vandal, and her jaw dropped.
Excerpt. © Jill Elizabeth Nelson, 2011. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Available at fine bookstores everywhere, plus outlets at Walmart and Target, as well as on-line bookstores.
For more information and a chance to win a signed copy of the book, drop by http://www.jillelizabethnelson.com
http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0373444699/jillelizabeth-20 CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK NOW!
Friday, December 2, 2011
Monday, November 28, 2011
When I decided to write a series about a town that goes through a hurricane, I wanted to give tribute to all the people who have gone through a disaster and rebuilt their lives. This series was written for the heroes and heroines who help others in a time of disaster.
Blurb for His Holiday Family by Margaret Daley:
When Hurricane Naomi tears through a small Mississippi town, a daring rescue unites two heroes. Nurse Kathleen Hart is a single mom racked by guilt over her husband's death. Firefighter Gideon O'Brien—orphaned as a young boy—has lost too many people he cared for. To rise above the storm's devastation, Gideon helps Kathleen and her sons rebuild their home. As Christmas approaches, they discover that even the strongest of storms can't destroy a romance built on the foundation of faith.
Excerpt from His Holiday Family:
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Gideon O'Brien hopped down from Engine Two and assessed the chaos in front of him. Strapping on his air pack, he started toward his captain. A hand gripped his arm and stopped his forward progress. He turned toward the blonde woman who held him, her large blue eyes glistening with tears. She looked familiar, but he couldn't place where he knew her from. His neighbor's daughter, perhaps?
"My two sons and my cousin—their babysitter—must still be inside. I don't see them outside with the other tenants." Her voice quivered. She tightened her hand on his arm and scanned the crowd. "I'm Kathleen Hart. My sons are Jared and Kip. I tried Sally's cell but she didn't answer. Please get them out." A tear slipped down her cheek.
"Where are they?" Gideon moved toward his captain, his palm at the small of her back, guiding her in the direction he wanted her to go. Yes, he realized, she was his neighbor Ruth Coleman's daughter.
"Sally's second-floor apartment is on the east side, the fourth one down on your right. Number 212. Hurry." Her round eyes fastened on the fire consuming the three-story apartment building on Magnolia Street.
Gideon paused in front of Captain Fox. "Mrs. Hart says her sons and babysitter are still inside. Pete and I can go in and get them." He looked toward the west end of the large structure where the men of Engine One were fighting the flames eating their way through the top level. "There's still time."
"Okay." His captain surveyed the east end. "But hurry. It won't be long before this whole building goes up."
The scent of smoke hung heavy in the air. The hissing sound of water hitting Magnolia Street Apartments vied with the roar of the blaze.
Gideon turned toward the mother of the two boys. "We'll find them." He gave her a smile then searched the firefighters for Pete.
When Gideon found him a few feet away, he covered the distance quickly. "Let's go. There are three people trapped on the second floor. East end."
At the main entrance into the building Gideon fixed his mask in place, glancing back at the blonde woman standing near his captain. He had seen that same look of fear and worry many times over his career as a firefighter. He wouldn't let anything happen to her sons and Sally.
Gideon switched on his voice amplifier and headed into the furnace with Pete following close behind him. Through the thick cloud suspended from the ceiling in the foyer, the stairs to the second floor loomed. Crouching, he scrambled up the steps. The higher he went, the hotter it became.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
"Yum!" It was Thanksgiving day and I was in the kitchen, sneaking bits of turkey while no one was looking. To my ten-year-old mind, nothing could compare to Mom’s perfectly cooked turkey. I stuck my fingers into the warm juice and pulled off another piece.
"Ahhh," I sighed and smiled. It was delicious. I glanced around then snatched another bite.
This is my favorite part of Thanksgiving, I thought, licking my fingers as the turkey juices dripped down my hand. I loved to sample the little pieces of turkey that fell to the bottom of the pan during cooking. It was like a special, tasty prize that made my mouth water just to think about it. I jammed a fourth piece of turkey into my mouth and rubbed my belly, enjoying the dual pleasures of taste and smell.
At my Sunday School three days later, Pastor Ron visited our class. He sat down on the stool in front and straightened his collar. His eyes swept over the students. "Let me tell you a story," he began. "There was a man named Joe. Joe spent his life doing stuff that was very bad. He drank. He gambled. He lived a wild life. He swore all the time and never went to church. When he ran out of money, he robbed a store and then continued his bad living. On his death bed, Joe knew he was going to die, so he begged God for forgiveness and decided to trust in Jesus. That night, Joe died and went to Heaven, the same as if he had loved and served God all his life. What do you think of that?"
"Hey, that's not fair!," I burst forth. My cheeks grew red with annoyance.
"No, it's not fair," he agreed. "Not fair to Joe.”
“To Joe?” I questioned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean it's not fair because Joe missed the greatest joys in life."
"But he was bad!” I exclaimed, sputtering in confusion. “If he could get into heaven, why should I bother to do what I’m told? I may as well go out and rob a store too!”
My Pastor smiled. “Do you really think so?”
I lowered my head and stared at my feet. Then, I shrugged my shoulders.
Pastor Ron cleared his throat.
I looked up at him again. His mouth was quirked in a strange half-grin.
"Tell me," he continued, "have you ever sneaked into the kitchen to taste a little bit of turkey before the Thanksgiving meal?"
I drew a quick breath and nodded my head. My eyes grew wide in shock. How had he known? I remembered back to my time in the kitchen just three days before. Yes, I knew very well what it was like to taste the turkey. It was great!
"Well," he said, glancing at the rest of the class, "that's just what it's like for you and me. All the time we spend serving God in this life is just like sneaking into the kitchen to taste the turkey. We get a little taste of heaven before the great banquet. Joe, on the other hand, doesn't get to taste the turkey in this life. He has to wait. Just think of all the fun he missed out on here in this life."
"Wow," I whispered, "I never thought of it like that.
Pastor Ron chuckled. "Now, every time you sneak a bit of turkey, you can think about the fact that every day you spend serving God is a little taste of heaven here on earth."
To this day, I still sneak my little bit of turkey before the Thanksgiving meal, and every time I thank God for another day spent in His love, tasting the turkey of Heaven.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Friday, November 4, 2011
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
A number of my friends and family are walking through the darkness in their lives right now. As I've been thinking about them and praying for them, I've also been thinking about the three alternatives for walking through the dark. I believe that everyone has to face the darkness at times in their lives. But what we do in those times, our choices about how to respond make a huge difference in where we end up. So, here are a few quick thoughts on those three options:
1) There are those who deny the darkness, claim it doesn't exist, put on a happy face and believe that faith is just saying "God is good, all the time" as a way to run from the pain of dark times. They don't want to face doubts, to ask the hard questions, to allow their hearts to be broken by sorrow. Deep down, they fear their faith will be broken, too, if they allow any doubts or questions to surface. The only problem is that those who don't face the darkness, those who try to skirt around it, also skirt around God's efforts to help them grow deep with Him. They stick with their comfortable cliched faith, and that’s pretty much where they’ll stay.
2) There are those who God calls deeper, but in the face of the pain and darkness they turn away. They try to lessen the discomfort by turning to other things, distracting themselves to try to protect themselves … perfectly reasonable, except it results in a hardened heart, and they end up enduring the pain without gaining its rewards.
3) Then, there are those who God calls deeper, and they beat their fists bloody on His chest as they fight, struggle, doubt, hurt, wrestle, complain, cry out, accuse, rant, rave, rage, weep … these are the Jobs and Davids, the Habakkuks … they are the ones who say the wildest things, express their hearts with shocking honesty, they lay bare the wounds and face God will all the confusion, hurt, and doubt in their souls. But that’s the difference, they face Him. Always facing Him. And in time, they are changed forever. They glimpse the wonder, they put their hands over their mouths … they see God as they never could have before, and somehow they’re glad of it. And, when they say “God is good” it’s no longer a cliché, it’s a statement born out of the darkness, and it means something completely different than the same words spoken by those who have never come through that dark night. It’s a deep and profound thing. They have come through the darkness and discovered incredible light.
And that, I think, is the hope offered to all who walk in the dark. That’s why we keep fighting on even when we can't see … because there is no other way to get to that other side, there is no other way to come to that place where we’ll see Him as we never could have before.
So, for everyone who now finds themselves facing a time of darkness, hang on, hang in there, and keep facing Him through it all. There is light on the other side ... I promise, and so does He.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
including Small Town Christmas
Love Inspired Duet - November 2011
To Purchase online click link: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product//0373877056?ie=UTF8&tag=novgaigaymar-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0373877056
Trouble. Amy swallowed. “I suppose that would be. . .practical.”
Holly’s ponytail flipped as she swivelled toward Amy while Ivy stared at her wide-eyed.
Ivy fell back to her seat. “If I wanted to tear it up, I would have done it.”
Amy nodded. “For Thanksgiving.” Blending learning with fun was good classroom planning.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
I’m always in a hurry. I’m about as far from a procrastinator as you can can get, unless of course we’re talking about errands. But other than that, I’m on constant overdrive. Not because I’m terribly ambitious, but because I can’t let go of the reigns. I expect things to get done a certain way and in a certain period of time. When they don’t I hit panic mode. And I could rationalize it a million ways, but ultimately it comes down to lack of trust. It’s like I forget that God is bigger than His creation, which includes my tiny little role in it.
Which is why I love the Bible passage about Martha and Lazarus. Martha and I would have been great friends. Or at least a highly efficient team. Although I’m sure our anxious thoughts and frantic behaviors would have given us both a migraine.
In John chapter eleven, we are told that Martha’s brother is sick. And what did you do in first century Palestine when someone you loved fell ill? You sought out the Healer, of course. And I imagine if He was a close friend of the family, as Jesus was to Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, you’d expect a rather quick response. But what does Jesus do when he learns of Lazarus’ illness? He tarried, on purpose. Didn’t He love Lazarus? Verses five and six say He did: “So although Jesus loved Martha, Mary, and Lazarus, He stayed where He was for the next two days.”
When He finally arrives at Lazarus’ home in Bethany, it’s too late. Lazarus is dead. Martha is distraught, and even accusatory.
John 11:21 “Martha said to Jesus, ‘Lord, if only You had been here, my brother would not have died.’”
Translation: God, You’re too late.
Lazarus had been dead for three days. Martha’s faith and hope had come and gone. She’d gone from fervent prayers to mourning.
Jesus’ response? I’m bigger than that, Martha.
John 11:25 “I am the resurrection and the life.”
And we know the rest of the story. Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead and God’s power was revealed. And I’m sure when it was done Martha could have kicked herself for her lack of faith. Just like I frequently kick myself for mine. But the account of Lazarus has a way of bringing me back to reality. The God that made me, that saved me, is bigger than anything I could face. And His timing is always perfect.
So what happens when God is late? Now that is a question without a logical answer, my friend. The more rational question would be, when is God late? And my response would be never, even if it appears things have regressed to the point of decay.
Find out more about Jennifer at http://jenniferslatterylivesoutloud.com/
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Friday, September 30, 2011
Here's the book I wanted to tell you about this week. It's THE DRAGONS OF THE WATCH by Donita K. Paul. And here's a bit about it:
The Chronicles of Chiril continue as Ellie and Bealomondore find themselves trapped in an isolated city guarded by dragons and separated from everything they know and love. How can they escape? Along the way they meet a group of wild children and a very old man, whose needs they must meet before they can find their way home. With the help of the dragons of the watch, they discover that their fate depends upon their ability to recognize and step in line with the Creator’s will.
About the Author:
Donita K. Paul retired early from teaching school, but soon got bored! The result: a determination to start a new career. Now she is an award-winning novelist writing Christian Romance and Fantasy. She says, “I feel blessed to be doing what I like best.”
Friday, September 23, 2011
I'm working on a proposal for a new nonfiction book that I hope will encourage you in your life journey with Jesus. (No title yet ... I'll let you know when I come up with something better than "Think of Really Good Title"). Anyway, here are some ideas I'm working with for the new nonfiction book proposal. See what you think! ...
So, is your life going just as you hoped and planned? No? Well, me neither. In fact, when people ask me for a sentence that defines my life I tell them it's this: "Your plans? Ha ha!" says God.
But I also find that I'm in good company. In fact, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the life of Mary, the mother of Jesus. If there's anyone whose life was the opposite of her hopes and plans, it was hers. Yet, I also think about the wonder she witnessed. Both wonder and disappointment. Beauty and sorrow. She touched it. Lived it. Embodied the journey of us all.
There she was, engaged, planning on a nice, quiet, happy life. And boom, an angel appears. Forget your plans, he says, God’s got different ones. You’re having a baby, and it's not gonna be your husband’s. You get to have God’s son. I suspect being unwed and pregnant was soooo not part of her plans!
But Mary reacts pretty well to the change of her plans. “I’m God’s servant,” she says. And then we get her whole prayer praising God in Luke 1:46-55 that we like to read at Christmas time.
But it doesn't stop there. She’s coming up on 9 months pregnant and what should happen but a decree – she has to go to Bethlehem. A long trip on the back of a donkey. I’ve been 9 months pregnant, so I can you tell you that there’s no way that a trip like that was a part of Mary’s plans. Couldn't God make it a little easier? Couldn't He intervene?
No. And worse yet, when they get to Bethlehem, they can’t even get a room. (Side note: We always translate the Greek word as “inn” in our English versions of the Bible, as if there’s some sort of Motel 6 there in Bethlehem. But that word is usually used for a guest room in a relative’s house. So, it could be that Joseph went to his relative’s house there in Bethlehem and found that other relatives were there first and had taken up all the space. I wonder if it was because they had to travel slowly because of Mary’s condition that there was no place for them once they got there?) I also wonder if they were thinking that surely God would provide a room for them, a nice place to have that baby that was supposed to be God’s son. But no. A stable. And not one of those cute, clean little “stables” like we have in our nativities at Christmas. Think poop, flies, and stink.
Eventually, the magi come. Now, that’s more like it. Gold. Frankincense . Myrrh. Gifts fit for a king. At last! Except that no sooner do they leave than the soldiers come. And they aren't bearing gifts. They're bearing swords, ready to kill all the baby boys. Talk about a nightmare. And Mary and Joseph have to run off to Egypt, a foreign country, where they’re all alone. Mary's hopes, Mary's plans, ruined again.
In time, they come back to Israel, and we get one story in the Bible about Jesus as a youth. One single story. And what’s he doing? Yep, giving his mom grief. At twelve, he stays behind in Jerusalem, and gives his mom the scare of her life. That sure wasn’t a dream come true for her. If you've lost a kid in a store, you can get a taste of the panic Mary must have been feeling.
And if that’s not enough, her son grows up. Now, if I were the mom of God’s son, I’d be dreaming of some big stuff. In fact, you can see some of Mary’s plans in her original prayer –
--bringing down rulers, maybe she’s thinking of Rome,
--helping the humble,
--bringing abundance, food, to the hungry,
--bringing glory to Israel like they once had.
But instead, her son is wandering around homeless riling everybody up. So much so that she and some of Jesus’ brothers have to go to talk some sense into him. And when she gets there, does Jesus say, “Mom, great to see you! Come on in, sit by me.”?? Noooo. He says, “Who are mother and my brothers… These are my mother and my brothers,” as he points to other people around him – not to her. Jesus’ public ministry certainly wasn’t Mary’s dream come true.
And then, of course, comes the worst of all. Can you imagine it? Watching your first born son arrested, beaten, spat upon, and then nailed to a cross to die. Because where was Mary then? She was at the foot of the cross. Can you imagine standing there as the blood drips, and his anguished cries echo in your ears. Your son. The son you love. I can imagine nothing worse. Nothing more gut-wrenching and horrific. That was never, ever, ever in Mary’s plans. That was the greatest nightmare come true of all time.
AND YET… and here’s the most marvelous point of all. It is in that horrific moment, in that moment that encapsulates the very epitome of what it means for plans and hopes to go awry, to die – in that moment we find the most incredible, wondrous, breathtaking act of God of all time. It is the moment of redemption, of glory, of splendor, of the answer to all the prayers and hopes from the beginning of time until now. It is at that moment that we find the salvation of all mankind.
There, at the precise moment when all Mary’s hopes died. When all her plans came to nothing. That was the moment of answer. That was when truly the poor were provided for, a ruler of evil was overthrown, and mercy was given, just as she prayed all those years before. It was the moment of glory.
I think it may always be that way. That there, at the very place where our dreams don’t come true, where our expectations are shattered – that is where God is standing in the greatest power. Those are the moments, the places that change the world, where we find a depth and wonder deeper than we ever dared to dream.
Because, this I know for certain: the life God gives you is not the life you dreamed. It is the Kingdom of Heaven lived through you. It is wondrous. It is incredible. It is unexpected. And it is found at the foot of the cross.