She Stands

Zechariah 9:12 Return to the stronghold, you prisoners of hope. Even today I declare that I will restore double to you.  Hope...... A feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.  A feeling of trust.  Sounds good, doesn't it?  Believing for something. A change, an action that will restore all that has been lost, to trust for an outcome in a discouraging circumstance. And yet, the hope of the flesh shows no signs of change.  Holding on to hope can be wearisome. Hope itself is not, but holding on by the skin of our fingernails can be. At least for me it can be.  Can you relate?   Since the year 2020 when all that I knew to be the norm erupted with such a great intensity it was hope that held me in a cocoon of safety.  But it wasn't just any hope. It was and still is the hope of Jesus.  I dare not pretend to say I have been comfortable or even most knowledgeable in the midst of this great shifting. ...

                                                                Photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash Matthew 25:7-10 7 “Then all the virgins woke up and trimmed their lamps. 8 The foolish ones said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil; our lamps are going out.’ 9 “‘No,’ they replied, ‘there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.’ 10 “But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut. And the door was shut.... That small sentence packs a multitude of profoundness. Not only does it stop me in my tracks, but it also brings a holy fear to my soul.  Holy fear is a fear that does not drive us away from the Lord but to the Lord. To f...

                                                                             I can remember as a young child picking dandelions to make a wish. Eyes tightly shut, face all smooshy and distorted to the point of my eyelids disappearing beneath my lashes; the wishes I had were life altering, or at least in my budding heart they were. One after the other, I would blow those dandelion seeds until the perching of my lips caused my face to start to tingle. The more I picked, the harder I would blow in the expectation of my hearts desires to birth right there in that moment.  I cannot remember the specifics of my many wishes. I can only recall the warm summers my tiny hands would pluck those dandelions in the hopes of one, if not all, of my wishes would show thems...