Love Song

God loves you. Jane Rubietta was surprised at how personally God met her need to hear him tell her just that. Read on, and maybe you'll hear him tell you as well? Elisa Love Song By Jane Rubietta The days closed around me like a collapsing snow fort. I needed to either go build my own igloo so my family wouldn't disown me or just ride off into the sunset. Then my daughter called with her happy voice. "Mom! I'll be out of town. Want to use my apartment for a retreat?" My heart flip-flopped like a small, delighted child turning somersaults. I cleared the new plan for my soul retreat leaving laptop at home to eliminate work temptation with Rich, my husband (did I detect relief?), and our at-hom


Shame-Less By Elisa Morgan Many of us - most of us? - are well-acquainted with shame. We wear shame as our second skin. It's the go-to-garment in our closets, hanging happily alongside both our fat sweatpants and our skinny jeans, perma-pressed and ready to wear. In church services, we go forward to freedom and shed the scales of our sin only to watch them involuntarily reappear like a mutant identity when we shut our car doors for the drive home. Shame is epidemic! It's well-documented that women uniquely struggle under the shadow of shame, both real and imagined. Victims of abuse - sexual, domestic and other versions - struggle with shame. Post-abortion studies reveal high levels of shame.

First Responders

When we know someone in crisis, we often hold back, uncertain just what help to offer. Will we do the "wrong" thing if we act? Marie Guthrie pushes us forward to act as the "first responders" that we really are. Elisa Thanking my first responders By Marie Guthrie The ground rumbles and the foundation of the earth cracks. Shaking, a large building is about to crash and become a pile of rubble. A couple of people run into the collapsing building. “Stop!” we yell, “Don’t go in. You’ll get killed.” They don’t listen. They run toward men, women and children trapped in a difficult circumstance. They are courageous and daring. Fearless and selfless. They are the first responders. We honor first res

Connecting the Dots

How is God connecting the dots in your life into what may seem an unexpected story? Read on as Rebecca Stuhlmiller offers a helpful perspective. Elisa Connecting the Dots By Rebecca Stuhlmiller When I was a teenager, my best friend and I drew pictures of our dream lives: the boys we wanted to marry, what our houses would look like, and how many kids we’d have. Even as a young adult, I expected to have enough raw talent to create the picture of my life, inside the lines, with shades of my choosing. Instead, my years have resembled a connect-the-dots picture, the kind of awkward "masterpiece" I could create as a child. I could craft an image by counting and drawing a (relatively) straight line

For This Child I Prayed

Twenty years ago, in 1996, I wrote an essay in a little book entitled Mom to Mom: Confessions of a Mother Inferior. Today it is as true as it ever was and remains my classic “mothering mantra.” Embroidered on a pillow that once lay in my daughter’s crib are words from 1 Samuel 1:27-28: “I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord.” As a new parent, I can remember tracing my finger along the stitches of that pillow and wondering when I’d first mouth these words for my child, for my children. The words belonged to a woman named Hannah, who had been childless for years. That’s the B

The Choice to Love My Actual Life

Alexandra Kuykendall is my mentor in the things that are right before me - embracing them as the gifts they are. Read on and learn to relish your actual life. Elisa The Choice to Love My Actual Life By Alexandra Kuykendall The brunch was served to me in bed on a tray, by little hands with sticky fingers. It was the kind of morning I'd fantasized about years earlier: a Mother's Day breakfast in bed surrounded by my gaggle of children. But as with all fantasies, the reality didn't match up to the images that had swirled through my head for so long. The champagne flute was there. But it was filled with chocolate milk and the coffee cup had sloshed a bit on its way from the kitchen to the bedroo

© Elisa Morgan 2019

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