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She finished well

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It’s 5 am and I can’t sleep. I’ll share at her grave site today. I’ve struggled to find the words. How do you define a life in a few moments? How do you utter a sound when you feel as if you can’t even breathe? How can you put love into syllables when it is has so profoundly shaped who you’ve become? How do you convey the essence of one who never wanted to be the center of attention yet whose absence has caused your world to spin off axis?

My favorite thing about her is that her understanding of being a Jesus-follower was that it was a life of action. She lived with purpose. For many, many years that purpose was to care for her children. Five souls she considered her precious priority during a time when money was sparse, responsibilities were endless, and she was still coming to know who she was herself. Those were not easy years and there were many tears but she laughed more than she cried and that is what we remember, as do so many who have shared with us the past few days. Her laugh was full and contagious, evidently easily recognizable as people now say they hear her when her children laugh. It’s a good memory.

Life dealt her many a blow, each of which caused her only to adjust and move forward, never to give up. She often didn’t have the answers when we would come to her with the latest problem life had presented to us, but she’d lived in such a way before us that we could believe in her confident assurance that life would go on and life would still be good. She had dreams that were never realized and when those dreams died she simply made new ones. I loved that about her.

She loved large, a risk she gladly took over and over. She loved well beyond the walls of our home and as is the case with all who love easily, she suffered heart ache when love wasn’t enough and relationships failed. Yet she kept her heart tender and chose to love again and again. Because that’s what Jesus does.

She had no poker face, no pretense about her, and she hated flattery. She was highly opinionated and you learned quickly never to ask her what she thought if you didn’t really want to know what she thought! Oh, she would be as kind as she could with her words, but you might need to buckle your seat belt before you asked. I can’t say I always appreciated this particular trait, but I grew to gladly expect and depend on it. She and Daddy shared this characteristic, so if you’ve met me or my siblings perhaps this explains a lot…

She served gladly because that’s what love does. At home, at church, at the nursing home, in the quilting group, wherever she could. She lived her faith and took every opportunity she could to share it. Never pushy, just confident. Because love believes in sharing the best in life and she had no greater joy than her relationship with God. Her children were a very close second.

She forgave. Not always easily because some things just take time. But she was determined to live a life of forgiveness and would pursue it until her soul was at peace. She walked away when needed but refused to carry unforgiveness with her. She learned to guard her heart which is not an easy task when you love like she loved.

Our “thing” the last 10 years has been to go get our hair done together. I would pick her up and we would drive to Beaumont to meet my sister for lunch and then have her do our do’s. Our car conversations throughout the years covered just about every topic you can imagine a mother and daughter might discuss. Except politics. Never politics. Not because we disagreed, but more because it wasn’t how we wanted to spend our time. Occasionally, she would share her “I should have…” and “I wish I had…”s with me, particularly pertaining to what she felt she had missed doing for us or giving to us. It was always countered with my assurances that she had done a good job as a mom and we were happy, not lacking in any good thing from her.

When Daddy was dying, he apologized to her for all the things he didn’t do, expressing his “I should have…” and “I wish I had…”s to her. She quickly stopped him with these words “No regrets.” She had none. She had loved him deeply, forgiven him any offenses years ago, and held nothing but appreciation for all that he had done. Because that’s what love does.

As I walk through this sorrow I feel regret lurking. My mind has raced with all the “I should have…” and “I wish I had…”s, even before she was gone. As she lay in the hospital bed I must have told her “I love you” 100 times. I knew that she knew I loved her, but can you really ever tell someone too many times? Oh how I want to look in her face one more time and tell her! But I know what she would say to me right now if she could: “No regrets.” She decided a long time ago that any failure or offenses her children may produce would be forgiven. It wasn’t on a case-by-case basis. It was decided. It was done. And I think she came to this decision long before she realized it was exactly what God had done for her. She wants her children to live free from regret. Because that’s what love does.

Several years ago I published a post about her entitled An unfinished life. She was still getting around independently and fulfilling her purpose. She delighted in knowing that God still had things for her to do and she took His call very seriously. She was faithful in this labor of love until she died. This reminds me that no matter how we started or how we may have messed up the middle, it is how we finish that matters.

She finished well.

 

She finished well” was written by Kay Stinnett and first appeared on http://www.ourpassionatepurpose.com

If you would like to read the previous post, An unfinished life, please use the search feature on this page to find it.  

Photograph by Kay Stinnett and cannot be used without permission.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Mother’s Day – look both ways before crossing

mom and kids crossing street.jpg.838x0_q67_crop-smartThis road is a busy one, traveled by the thankful, the frustrated, the exhausted, the overwhelmed, the happy, the sad, and the everything-in-between. Sometimes we march with determined steps and fixed gaze, confident and sure of where we are headed. Sometimes we watch and follow those with determined steps, completely unsure of where this road will lead. Sometimes we dance and sing and play along the way as if the journey is all that matters, the destination insignificant. Sometimes we just stop in the middle of the road and cry.

There are many who’ve walked before us, those who’ve completed the journey and others we can still see in the distance. If we are blessed, we have those who’ve already walked this road yet have turned back to walk it again by our sides, cheering us on, sharing their stories and giving us hope that we, too, will make it.

Some of us are on the sidelines, hopeful, waiting, resigned. We’ve been there a long time and seen many walk by. To stand still watching feels as if this is the only road worth traveling, all others meaningless and empty. Many speak as they pass, giving encouraging words and heartfelt prayers. Sometimes they stop and hold us while we cry. But they’re on the road and must move forward and they leave us feeling lonelier than ever.

Many have walked this road only to find our travel plans abruptly and heartbreakingly halted. We desperately wanted to complete this journey but now there’s no focus. We find ourselves paralyzed, unable to move. Walking alongside the others is painful and awkward. We don’t return to the sidelines. We just stop. We belong on the road…but now we only look back at the footbrints we left behind…

Before we cross this road or remain on the sidelines or move forward or stand still, let’s look both ways, or better yet, all around. Let’s take ourselves out of holiday mode and just stay in Jesus mode. Let’s share the love and the joys and the pains and the heartbreaks of just being human because for many this is a hard day.

Rejoice with those who rejoice, sharing their joy; mourn with those who mourn, sharing their sorrow. Romans 12:15

Bear one another’s burdens and troublesome moral faults and in this way fulfill and observe perfectly the law of Christ… Galatians 6:2

Nothing wrong with taking a gift or a card and spending time with your mother this Sunday. But do we really need a holiday to do that? Did you know that the woman who created Mother’s Day later denounced the holiday’s commercialization and spent the latter part of her life trying to get it off the calendar?? Yeah. That.

Mother’s Day – look both ways before crossing” was written by Kay Stinnett and first appeared on http://www.ourpassionatepurpose.com

A public apology

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You know those times that you mess up and you just can’t seem to let it go? You confess, you know that God has heard you, you’ve apologized to the one you’ve wronged yet you just can’t let it go…

I was one of the speakers at an in-house ladies retreat at my church this weekend. It was a wonderful spa-themed event and I was excited about the portions of the Psalms I would share with the ones who had taken time out of their busy lives to come and listen. The passages and topics of the morning had been very meaningful to me and I was under no impression that what I would share was any more or less important than these.

I was up after lunch and hopeful that I could say what I had on my heart before the after-lunch-sleepies set in and I would begin to sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher… wawawawawa… Time always goes quickly when I speak and before I knew it, I had committed the #1 sin of conference speaking – I had overrun my time and left virtually nothing for the speaker following me who was to close out the event. Sigh.

Normally I have a designated person within direct eye contact range who is given the assignment of helping me end on time, someone who will hold up a written 10 minute warning or give the universal shut-up symbol of a knife being drawn across the neck. I neglected to acquire such assistance today. It was my understanding that yes, we were running a little behind schedule, but we would be extending the end time by a few minutes to wrap it up. I was wrong. No excuses, I should have confirmed. I should have been more considerate. I should have…shut up. Sigh again.

I did apologize to my fellow presenter, twice. I prayed as I left and again as I ran my afternoon errands, and more when I got home but I couldn’t shake that yuck feeling. So as I was winding down my activities this evening and finally got still it occurred to me what was left undone – I needed to apologize to all the ladies who attended the retreat. Not only had I taken from this speaker the time and prayer she had invested in being God’s voice today, but I had caused others to miss something God wanted to say to them. I owe them that.

One of my topics today was the prayer of confession and more than a few times God has required of me that mine be made more openly known than just in my quiet corner with Him. He’s like that sometimes.

So, ladies, I hope this finds its way to you because I am truly sorry. Please share this with those who are not on social media or the internet or who may have been visitors to our event. To the ladies ministry team: should you ever dare to invite me to be a part of this event in the future, please give me the last time slot – following her.

Oh, and did I mention the speaker following me was my pastor’s wife? Yeah, let that sink in…  

 

A public apology” was written by Kay Stinnett and first appeared on http://www.ourpassionatepurpose.com

When you hear my story

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When you hear my story will you love me?  Will you look through eyes of mercy and give of your richest treasure?  Will you offer a kind word and a soft touch?  

When you hear my story will you judge me?  Will you withdraw in disapproval as my sins are laid bare?  Will you weigh and measure my failures and find me unworthy of your love?

When you hear my story will you see me?  Will you look deeper than my choices and experiences and see that I am more than the sum of those?  

When you hear my story will you walk with me?  Will you stay by my side as I continue this journey?  Will you step with me into uncertainty until the certain is found?

When you hear my story will you discover that you know me?  Will you throw off your pretense and find that deep within we are very much alike?

When you hear my story will you tell me yours?  Will you take advantage of my vulnerability – for good – and trust me with your joys and sorrows, victories and defeats?

When you hear my story will you find Him?  Will you hear His words of love and mercy and grace and favor spoken to you just as He spoke them to me when my life was anything but perfect? Will you see Him more than me?

When you hear my story will you love me?

It was the day to give my testimony at the end of a five-week study.  I know how important our individual stories are and I thought I was ready.  Until I began the drive to the church.  God began to speak to me about the things He wanted me to share and the tears began to flow.  My story isn’t tragic or extreme as compared to so many who have suffered greatly.  But it is marked with bad choices, difficult inward struggles, and deeper sorrow than I had ever believed possible.

My heart was so tender that particular morning that my first instinct was to guard it.  From what?  I would be speaking to ladies I’ve known all my life, a few I’ve known for many years, and those I had met only through this study.  What was I afraid of?  What we are all afraid of in the natural – what will they think of me?  If they really get to know me will they still love me?  It is the question that so often prevents our stories from ever being heard.

I knew I couldn’t resist His leading, for what would be the point?  I knew that once I opened my mouth these things would pour forth hindered only by feeble efforts to control the tears.  And so I told my story.

It was frightening and liberating and exhausting all at the same time.  I realized on the drive home that I had told them something I had never spoken to another human being.  And it was in this moment that I found new freedom.  We so often fear the vulnerability that is the pathway to the very peace we seek.  But He is there.  In the raw exposure of our lives He is evermore our Healer and our Comfort.

He may never ask you to share your story in a crowd.  But I daresay the very mission of Christ involves us telling our stories to others, be it one at the time or in groups.  Your story is someone’s answer.  Someone needs to hear how you found Him in your darkest times.  Someone needs to hear that the very Grace that has lifted you is calling to them.  Someone needs the love and mercy you have to give because you have a story that matters in this grand plan of God.

Let’s be sensitive to His leading when He says “Go and tell”.  Will they love you when they hear your story?  Some will, some won’t. But that’s not the basis on which we decide to speak because telling our story isn’t really about us.  It’s about Him.

 

When you hear my story” was written by Kay Stinnett and first appeared on http://www.ourpassionatepurpose.com

 

2015: Wrapping it up

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While I didn’t actually wrap any presents this year, I really like wrapping presents.  I like the neatness of rolled paper (never folded), straight cuts, exact folds, and of course, invisible tape.  It appeals to my ocds and I experience a great deal of satisfaction in the effort, even in the challenge of the oddly shaped items (which if at all possible will be placed in a box).  I like the idea of a gift presented in a box covered with beautiful paper and a bow.  It’s just so….neat.

While this was the most unChristmasy Christmas I’ve ever had, there were still moments of concentrated busy-ness with a few preparations.  We love Jesus.  Really we do.  We just don’t make a big deal out of the season in the sense of decorating and gift-giving.  (This takes a lot of pressure off, but comes across as a bit Scrooge-ish to many.)  We gather with family for a meal, enjoy a game or two and the conversations and laughter, and if the little ones are with us we watch as they excitedly open their gifts. It’s a simple celebration that suits me fine.

As does the gift bag.  It’s simple and easy and requires very little effort.  It’s supposed to have creases and folds because that’s what makes it a bag, and therefore, acceptable in appearance.  It comes in many sizes and colors, does not need a bow (one less thing), and the gift within is hidden from view by tissue paper stuffed in the top which is intentionally messy.  I don’t know who came up with the idea that messy is how something is supposed to look, but thank you.  I can do neat, but let’s face it, messy is much quicker and easier and seems to come much more naturally.

It’s time to wrap up another year and honestly, it’s been a weird year for me.  Not bad, just different. It’s been uncomfortable in that it seemed to have many a wrinkle that I’d rather not have been there. The corners are still crooked and the end seems unfinished.  The invisible tape that is not really invisible at all simply shows my limited ability to hold some things together so that it will look acceptable to others. It seems I am still tempted to force an oddly shaped life into a standard box.  Somewhere along the line I believed the message that our boxes may differ in size, weight, and contents but they should still look like a box.  It was easy to convince me that the standard is a box because that appeals to my nature. Neat.

But life is rarely neat.  It’s more like the gift bag.  Creases are a part of it.  It comes in many different shapes and sizes and colors and designs and the treasure within is often hidden by something that actually looks pretty messy.  It’s challenging to accept messy in our lives because we feel compelled to fix it and make it look neat because surely that’s how it’s supposed to look.   No doubt there are things we need to fix.  But there are so many things that make our lives feel messy that we simply cannot fix. Our lives have been altered by many a decision and event, good ones and bad ones, and we are left with something that we didn’t expect, some good and some bad.

This year some of us had an empty seat at the table, a seat that will never again be filled.  Some of us had family that were not present in our lives because of hurt or anger or addiction.  Some of us were fighting just to survive, to keep our heads above water.  Some of us questioned our faith and felt as if the waves of doubt would overtake us.  Some of us had difficulties behind closed doors that no one knows about.  Some of us were alone.  Really alone.  Some of us had broken promises and shattered dreams and deep disappointments and unanswered prayers.  And most of us are finishing this year with things in our lives that remain messy, things we cannot fix and make neat.

This is exactly why Jesus came.  He knew that no matter how hard we tried to be good and make our lives neat and presentable, we would still be messy.  He sees the treasure within, He sees us for who we really are and loves us all the more.  He delightedly accepts the offering of our messy lives because just like the gift bag they are reusable.  He can still do something with them.

God has been with me all year.  He never left or wavered in His love and attention toward me.  But it is apparent that I will enter the new year with some things that haven’t changed, things that are still messy. I was thinking again this morning of the serenity prayer and that this is exactly what I need to pray, especially the first phrase, as I begin a new year:

God, give me grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
Courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.
Living one day at a time,
Enjoying one moment at a time,
Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
Taking, as Jesus did,
This sinful world as it is,
Not as I would have it,
Trusting that You will make all things right,
If I surrender to Your will,
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,
And supremely happy with You forever in the next.
Amen.

Through Grace accepting with serenity – utter calm and unruffled repose or quietude – the things I cannot change.  My messy life is His to do with whatever He will because when He looks at me He sees what Jesus has done and it is perfectly acceptable to Him.

I pray that you will join me as we enter a new year embracing the lives that we have, full of confident hope that God is working, even in the mess.  Be blessed.

2015:  Wrapping it up” was written by Kay Stinnett and first appeared on http://www.ourpassionatepurpose.com

Do you see what I see?

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It was a good service.  I think.  I have to admit I was more than a little distracted.  It’s almost Christmas and deadlines are pressing.  I have orders to fill and it will take working every day this week to get them done on time, even working this afternoon.  Focus is easier as we lift voices and hands in praise but once my body is still the after effects of a rushed-because-my-alarm-didn’t-go-off-morning set in and my eyes long to close for just a few more minutes of sleep.

All is completed in the order of service except for the final act of passing the offering plates.  It was in the stillness of waiting our turn that I saw them.  Just a few rows in front of me I could see a father holding his young son.  The boy looked into his father’s face as he quietly stroked his beard and patted his cheeks.  It was a precious moment, one that caught me off-guard as sorrow engulfed me without warning and I began to weep.  It would not be stopped and it took every measure of self-control I had not to give it full reign and wail loudly as I imagine our forefathers did when they ripped their garments and donned sackcloth and ashes.  My mind quickly assesses how this must look, a very odd time to be overcome with emotion, but the heart would have its way whether understood or not.  It would be hard to explain how in that moment I felt small hands on my face.  I suppose it’s something a mother never forgets.

She was just a young girl when the angel came and proclaimed to her and over her that she was one blessed and highly favored.  It must have been wonderful in that moment to know that God’s plan for her life was so important that He sent an angel to announce it.  I wonder if she expected that to happen again.  I wonder as she walked down the streets where her friends and neighbors turned away, embarrassed at her shame, did she look for another word from God?  I wonder as she and Joseph struggled with the newness of married life complicated by her “situation” if she spent time alone waiting for another angel to tell her they would make it through the learning how to love each other?  I wonder as she waved goodbye to her mother, climbed upon a donkey, and journeyed farther from home than she had ever been, was she watching the sky for a sign as the homesickness quickly set in?  I wonder as she cried from the pain of childbirth and fear of the unknown, did she beg Him to speak, to reassure her that this is exactly where He had planned for her to be?  I wonder if the angel’s words rang in her ears as she wept at the foot of the cross?  Sometimes this is what blessed and highly favored looks like.  Do you see?

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Sometimes blessed and highly favored looks like the one who sacrifices time with her children and grandchildren, friends and activities, as she tenderly cares for her elderly mother, wondering where she will find the energy for tomorrow.  

Sometimes blessed and highly favored looks like the one who rises every day with new resolve to stay clean, determined to rebuild what was torn down, resisting the constant temptation to give up, wondering when God will bring complete deliverance. 

Sometimes blessed and highly favored looks like the one with no new goals or plans as she sits in the discomfort of the stillness, wondering why God is silent.

Sometimes blessed and highly favored looks like the young mother with toddlers at her feet, another baby on the way, trying not to be completely overwhelmed in this life she dearly loves and wondering how she will get it all done.

Sometimes blessed and highly favored looks like a woman crying as she touches her own cheeks, enveloped in memories that overwhelm with both joy and pain, wondering what it will be like to see him again.

Sometimes blessed and highly favored looks more like dark, thunderous, lightning-filled skies than sunshine and rainbows.

It’s tempting to believe the message that to be blessed and highly favored is evidenced by our positions, our promotions, and our pocketbooks.  To proclaim it often to ourselves and over ourselves in hopes that our lives will be easier and more secure through our loud and upbeat proclamations of faith.  And as that may happen to some, it is still the least of it.  As I consider Mary and what it meant that she was blessed and highly favored above all women, I believe we have trivialized it and made it something it is not.

It’s been a year of getting real with God.  It’s been a year of examining faith and finding again the simplicity of the solid foundation and ridding myself of self-imposed boundaries and unrealistic expectations and mechanical worship.  I am not blessed and highly favored because all has gone well and my life has been spared the dark nights and the weeping and the difficulties and the pain.  I am blessed and highly favored because I have loved deeply enough for my heart to be broken.  I am blessed and highly favored because I have risked my heart and given my energies and failed miserably. I am blessed and highly favored because He has noticed my sorrow and saved my tears.  I am blessed and highly favored because He lowered Himself to be housed in me, never to leave me or forsake me, especially in the dark moments.  I am blessed and highly favored because I am no longer dependent on outward circumstances, people, or events to determine if I am blessed and highly favored.

Do you see what I see?

 

Do you see what I see?” was written by Kay Stinnett and first appeared on http://www.ourpassionatepurpose.com

I have quieted my soul

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I knew before I left the house that the route to my destination would most assuredly include miles of bumper-to-bumper traffic before I reached the other side of Houston.  I set my mind to enjoy my trip no matter what and made sure to leave the house early enough to avoid the late afternoon rush hour.  I must admit there were moments which threatened my deliberate peace, but I was strong and resisted with my mantra “it doesn’t matter….you have plenty of time…enjoy the journey…”  I was prepared for the trip – I knew where I was going, had adequate fuel, snacks and water.  It’s easy to enjoy the journey when you are prepared.

I had been anticipating the retreat for months and with every mile that drew me closer, I could feel the pressures of the every day falling away.  As I drove onto the grounds of my destination an even stronger sense of quiet washed over me.  The kind of peace that you can drink in with every breath. Surrounding stillness that felt as if it were an alternate universe where tight muscles and tense nerves do not exist. Beauty of nature that softly beckons to let go of everything else and simply take it in.  A setting that clearly whispers be still and know that I am God.

I happily unpacked my things in the quaint, cozy room where I would spend the weekend.  There was plenty of time to get settled in and relax before the evening’s events.  I scanned my emails and messages to be sure that nothing important was left without a response and took a moment to review the latest social media posts.  It was there I learned of the attacks in Paris.  I quickly searched the web for more details as the sense of impending doom was knocking at my door.  This is our world and the inability to be prepared for these kinds of horrific acts strikes fear in our hearts.  The threats are bold and fierce and very real and we are at a loss as to what to do.

I gathered the initial facts and put down my phone.  Seeking Him quickly is the only way to turn away the fear of impending doom.  I offered up a familiar prayer of “God, I don’t even know what to pray!”  In times past, that would be the end of a quick “God help them.  God be with them.” prayer, but I have since learned to be still and literally ask God “What do You want me to pray?”  It is not hard to understand and pray for the immediate need for safety and comfort and protection for those who remain in the wake of the horror.  But somehow it still seems lacking.

In this great mystery that is prayer, God, who knows what we need before we ask, has chosen to involve us in a supernatural process.  The more I’ve grown closer to Him and the more I’ve sought understanding, the more it has become evident that I really don’t know very much.  Perhaps He will give me deeper understanding of why He involves us in the process.  Or maybe He won’t.  But He is teaching me more and more how to pray and that with or without understanding, He requires obedience.  If the bible is true and He is God and He knows everything and I cannot do anything (eternal) without Him, then it is very clear that I must learn from Him what to pray.

We can spend much time in worrying and fretting.  We can scream our opinions and blame our politicians, publicly shaming them for what we perceive as their lack of action to keep us safe.  We can cry and moan and fear for our lives, and spread the fear to those around us.  We can beg and plead with God to do something!!  But is that really who we are?  Is that what we are called to??

We must learn to quiet our souls.

Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor my eyes lofty; neither do I exercise myself in matters too great or in things too wonderful for me.  Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with his mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me – ceased from fretting.  O Isreal, hope in the Lord from this time forth and forever.  Psalm 131

Peace I leave with you; My own peace I now give and bequeath to you.  Not as the world gives do I give to you.  Do not let your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.  Stop allowing yourselves to be agitated and disturbed; and do not permit yourselves to be fearful and intimidated and cowardly and unsettled.  John 14:27

It is clear that He intended for us to participate in this:  “I (David) have calmed…  (You) Do not let…”  We are able to bring our mind, will, and emotions into submission to His Spirit, which is the spirit of Peace. We must find that place of peace so that we can clearly hear His words to us and learn how to act in times of trouble rather than automatically react in our flesh.

I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have perfect peace and confidence.  In the world you have tribulation and trials and distress and frustration; but be of good cheer – take courage; be confident, certain, undaunted!  For I have overcome the world.  I have deprived it of power to harm you and have conquered it for you.  John 16:33

There are days I ask myself why I am so surprised when trouble comes.  Duh.  Jesus plainly said there would be trouble in this world.  Our ability to quiet our souls and not be afraid comes from the confidence that we are not OF this world.  THIS LIFE IS TEMPORARY.  Perhaps it’s time for us to step back and get a new perspective.  This life has purpose and meaning and is important to God, but it is a wisp, a vapor in time compared to eternity.

What did God tell me to pray when I heard the news of Paris?  He told me to pray that in midst of the pain and chaos and grief people are experiencing that they would find Him as Savior.  He told me that the mission remains the same, Tell others about Me.  I won’t be traveling to Paris to tell others about Jesus.  But I will be putting feet to my prayers for those in my neighborhood.  It’s not just the people of France who are afraid.  It’s our families, our friends, our neighbors.  If we are afraid right along with them, we have no message of hope to share, no comfort to give.

Draw away with me.  Quiet your soul.  Pray whatever the Father tells you to pray.  Do whatever the Father tells you to do.  Find supernatural Peace in troubled times.  He is waiting…

“I have quieted my soul” was written by Kay Stinnett and first appeared on http://www.ourpassionatepurpose.com

Photograph by Kay Stinnett and cannot be used without permission.