She Loves : The Power of A Dangerous Woman

Mar 09, 2015 Leave a Comment ~ Written by lisha epperson

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life

I was a bride married to amazement.

I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms. – Mary Oliver

 

I want the next line to read “Lord, let me have lived and loved dangerously.”
 

I’m learning to love fear. I’m learning to be courageous enough to embrace the twisted winding journey, the perilous pathway. I’m learning the steps of a risky and unpredictable dance and I’m learning to obey the divine call to love. I’m learning to live dangerously.

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I’m making room for wanderlust. I’m finding space for the wild woman in my soul to stand on the precipice of a cliff to howl at a harvest moon. I’m diving into the pool of amazement that is life – even when it’s harsh and cold. Even when I’m not sure I’ll float. If I don’t float I’ll flower, become the sacred lotus…a water lily.

I want to love deep, far beyond anything I can think or imagine. I want to love fear enough to let it crow bar my heart wide open. I won’t fear the temporal, the profane or worldly.  In pursuit of the holy I’ll embrace its opposite in synergistic bliss. It’s the blessing of living wholly.

Let’s talk a little more about the power and love of a dangerous woman…

Join me in declaring the power birthed when women come together – one heart, one voice, living and loving fully in the power of one dangerous love, one dangerous God.  I’m grateful to add my thoughts to this spirit-filled conversation. Read the rest here. 

♦♦♦

connect with the movement at She Loves Magazine using the hashtag #SLMdangerouswomen

Here’s a snippet from The Declaration : I Am A Dangerous Woman by Idelette McVicker

I am a Dangerous Woman.
I am here and I’m awake.
I pay attention to the rumblings in my soul
I listen and watch for how the Spirit leads.
With each humble choice, I take a step closer to my Destiny.
With each strong Yes, I become more of myself.

Posted in christianity, faith, Guest Post, life, love, uncategorized - Tagged #SLMdangerouswomen, dangerous, dangerous woman, dangerously, she loves magazine

Give Me Grace : When A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

Mar 07, 2015 21 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

 

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We met at our favorite diner on Broadway and 101st Street. After a morning of music with the littles and a math group meeting for the tween and teen…we met Big Daddy for burgers to celebrate LiChai’s 14th birthday. LiChai is an all American kind of kid. It was his decision mark the moment with a cheeseburger deluxe.

The day before, I’d stopped at the homeschool office to pick up metro cards. When our guidance counselor handed me an envelope…I knew. The SHSAT test scores were in. She played it straight with the perfect poker face. I’d have to open it to know.

The news was good and he got in. LiChai was accepted to his first choice high school – the Bronx High School of Science.  All I could think was how to keep this a secret until the next day – his birthday.

The Lovelies enjoy eating out. When I told my husband the good news we decided to wrap the story in a meal. Cue that burger LiChai loves and to the diner we went. Under the guise of asking his opinion about a few sketches we handed him the acceptance letter tucked in a stack of papers.

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Call it a serendipitous flow of the spirit, a peaceful connection to a sense of God anointed kismet – I don’t know. But I knew the moment as an etching on my heart – a longing that existed before I could name it. Strung to the forever of eternity, that moment led to others…and took me back…to the dream of family. I dreamed a dream of family and they sat before me like a feast, a banquet of love. I had all I wanted. And wanted for nothing more.

It sped by in a flash but I noticed it. Contentment. For a moment I knew peace and gratitude – the ease of serenity.  A healthy slice of nirvana satisfied. I lived as one with the perfect balance of what I wanted but didn’t have, what I had but didn’t want…even a wave of rest covered what may never be. I was content. This was my fair measure of grace.

Later we walked on Broadway, uptown and toward home. There was laughter. Easy and free. A picture would capture the love. And I needed one. Because raising a family isn’t easy and that balance I mentioned earlier is a tough thing to carry out. It isn’t easy to be content. I noticed the blessing and wanted to frame it. Hem the love I live in a story we’d tell over and over again. A picture would help me remember. This picture is a tribute to the God who grants me the pleasure of my portion, my offering and memorial to the gift of a great day,

It’s my modern-day Ebenezer.

How I remember…my family, the one I dreamed of.

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 Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

♥

Posted in christianity, faith, Give Me Grace, life, parenting, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, Bronx High School of Science, dream, family, picture, shsat

Five Minutes for Faith : Where We Pray For The Unspeakable

Mar 05, 2015 6 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

 

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“I love the Lord because He hears my prayers and answers them. Because He bends down and listens, I will pray as long as I breathe!” Psalm 116:1, 2 (Living Bible)

Can we talk for a minute? 

You’re wearing that pain like a pair of old shoes. Worn low from love…they fit. But they aren’t comfortable. They pinch in odd places and won’t be back in style soon enough to warrant another year of space in an already full closet. Whether from habit or limited choices you’re in a rut. For some reason you keep reaching for the same pair. You think I don’t notice. 

But I do.

I’ve been thinking about you. Laid fresh on the doorstep of my heart, I can’t go another day without picking you up for a closer look. I want to turn the pages and look at the pictures, open the folds, maybe tuck you under my arm to take with me on my way out. This might take a while. 

I’ve always admired you. You’re a thoughtful mother, committed wife and your professional accomplishments are impressive. That you do it all for Christ is a testimony of His faithfulness. It all streams behind you like the most extravagant silk train. An array of jewels, crystals and beads…and pearls. It’s beautiful. But it’s heavy. You should take it off sometimes. 

Those things don’t redeem your worth or increase your value. And sometimes those very wonderful things are what keep you from Christ. Because in the end…you’re just a girl…who needs her God. Now, more than ever you realize those things…are adornments. To be clear, they’re all good things. But they don’t matter now…not when your soul’s in crisis. Not when you ran into the bathroom to keep your children from seeing you breakdown…again – not when you schedule time for panic attacks in the ladies room at work. 

It’s that thing, the unspeakable thing, the nameless one…the thing that breaks your heart. It’s your thorn, your secret shame. 

And you aren’t ready to talk about it so let’s do that other thing we do. 

Let’s pray. 

Let’s pray about “that” thing.

Posted in christianity, faith, Five Minutes for Faith, life, relationships, uncategorized - Tagged Christ, pray, that thing, unspeakable

Give Me Grace : Hold On To Your Healing

Feb 28, 2015 28 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

 

how to hold on to your healing

flickr cc /Florent Chretien

Place these words on your hearts. Get them deep inside you. Tie them on your hands and foreheads as a reminder. Teach them to your children. Talk about them wherever you are, sitting at home or walking in the street; talk about them from the time you get up in the morning until you fall into bed at night. Inscribe them on the doorposts and gates of your cities so that you’ll live a long time, and your children with you, on the soil that God promised to give your ancestors for as long as there is a sky over the Earth.

Deuteronomy 11:18

Wrapped head to toe in a whimsical African print, she posed for a picture after her last midwifery appointment. She was 36 weeks pregnant with baby number 5 and glowing in her Facebook feed. I clicked “like” and commented “You’re beautiful. You were made for this”. I meant it. But the second part…”you were made for this”, my own words, ricocheted off the screen to slap me in the face. Pregnancy didn’t come easily for me. I didn’t do it well. My body fought to snuff the life out of 2 babies before I could meet one. I wasn’t made for it. At least that’s what 14 years of infertility made me believe. 

It’s why I still write about infertility.  Infertility follows you. The years weigh heavily and a long-standing disease digs its roots deep. The memory of infertility hurts and the enemy of my soul knows how to use it against me. 34 weeks of pregnancy with a healthy baby healed the fact of my infertility but – my heart.  Receiving my hearts healing  is a choice I have to make every day.

Infertility consumes your identity. It’s why I call survivors, warriors. We’ve lived through physical and emotional abuse, an outright attack on the front lines of faith. I realize…I’m in recovery.

Everyone wants healing but we don’t talk enough about how to keep it. No one tells you how to hold on to your healing. After the week-long revival no one tells you how the devil promises to pull you away to offer his take on what went down. You’re going to have to have something to combat that. The day after, and every day after that …you’ll have to speak your healing – to and for yourself.

To hold on to your healing savor, remember, hide…seal the word in your heart.

I love the movie The Book of Eli starring Denzil Washington. It’s a little saucy (language/violence) but I love it for its very modern interpretation of the word of God (the Bible) as a powerful weapon. My takeaway – Hide the word in your heart. The word has to be in you …you’ll have to become the word. You’ll need it to survive. Whether it’s the threat of life in a post-apocalyptic world or a personal crisis…you’ll need to know the word. You have to be grounded.

This is where the grounding comes in and why it makes me think of the woman with the issue of blood in Luke 8:43-48.

Because…

I was the woman with the issue of blood. Maybe you were too. I won’t go into the ugly details of living with a physical condition that causes you to hemorrhage for 12 years. For me, this was more serious than an iron deficiency – towards the end of my journey I was spiritually anemic. I needed and still need a transfusion – a steady drip of the life found in His word and what it says about me.

My spiritual mother would say tell the truth and shame the devil. I’ve been given so much and I know my family was created on purpose. My journey through infertility and adoption is the biggest testimony of my life. So I’m embarrassed to admit it. But I’ll go forth in the wisdom of her words. Here’s the truth – I get caught out there sometimes. Still.

And when I do, I go to the word. It’s not something I did automatically. I learned to reach for the word.

Healing… is something you have to hold on to.

I wish her story told a little of the days and months after – the messy middle where she learned to say “I am the healed of God”.  I wish the Bible gave us a peek at what happened after that day in the crowd.  Because the enemy isn’t impressed by victory. He’ll claw at the truth of it until we tell Him to stop. And we have to tell him to stop every day.

If we’re offered a glimpse, it’s this… some say this woman walked with Jesus to the cross. That’s encouraging. It tells me she didn’t give up. It tells me she scratched the words on her hands and forehead as a reminder.  I believe she was healed of the hard thing and her healing was complete – but she held on to it by staying grounded, by holding on to the word in her heart.

You have to claim your healing…especially the healing of your heart and mind.  If you’re celebrating a breakthrough – mark the victory party as day one. You have to hold on to your healing.

Say it with me…

“I’m holding on.

Hands to heaven, heart open wide…YOU oh God, are my truth, my mantra…my whispered remembrance…and sacred prayer.

I take hold of my healing, I cling to it, I believe it. I actively pursue it, I receive it. It isn’t casual. I’m committed.

I am the healed of God. I am the healed of God. I am the healed of God”.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight….#GiveMeGrace

♥ ~ read more ~

Posted in christianity, faith, Give Me Grace, infertility, life, motherhood, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, deuteronomy 11:18, God, grounded, healing, hold on to your healing, Life

Faith and the Midlife Heart { a guest post for Outside The City Gate}

Feb 25, 2015 2 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

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Outside The City Gate : Faith and the Midlife Heart

I’ve shared on my blog my families struggle to find a church home. Number one on my list was convenience. I won’t belabor you with the two-hour mini series that ensues….any time we try to leave the house. I won’t tell you how, even the thought of “let’s go” sets in motion an evil force that works religiously to keep us from going …. anywhere. No, I won’t tell you about that. Today I’ll tell you how hard it’s been to feel like I belong…and why I can’t blame this feeling on my new church. I’ve felt this way for some years now.

The church isn’t speaking to my midlife heart.

Family centered ministries meet the needs of our children but the heart of a mid-lifer is a sacred mosaic. A labyrinthine cavern of questions and longing for engagement, mission minded service and purpose. The midlife heart is an uncaged bird, uncompromising in flight. It wants to do, to love more. It will pursue its mark. We’re fine tuning our callings and confirming our relevance. Mid lifers need the church.

I’m not alone in this. Statistics show the midlife set is watching 50 Shades of Grey and enjoying the guilty pleasure of Scandal. What they aren’t doing is attending church. Married people with school-aged children aren’t joining and if they grew up in church…they aren’t staying.

I keep going but I don’t see middle-aged people in church. Maybe they’re burnt out on religion or don’t have time. The routine of the weekly experience loses it’s significance when it becomes a premeditated drive by – too often church is just another “to do” on an impossibly long list of obligations. In a performance/ “winning” society, could it be we disengage when we don’t see measurable success in ourselves and others? The discouragement of the “been there, done that and it doesn’t work” syndrome is real. Twenty or more years of service can feel futile if you aren’t consistently stimulated with fresh ideas for making the business of kingdom building an attainable reality. Accepting the forever truth of sinners in the kingdom, can make the goal feel pointless.

I’m visiting friends at Outside The City Gate today. We’re talking about keeping church attendance relevant for the midlife set.  I hope you’ll join the conversation. 

Posted in christianity, Guest Post, life, parenting, relationships, uncategorized - Tagged church, faith, family, midlife, midlife heart, Outside the City Gate

Give Me Grace : Open {for The Church Door Series}

Feb 21, 2015 41 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

CDS4

Open

She walked in wearing red
Tie died in blood, a crimson cloak hung from her shoulders
Hands wrung worn from prayer covered her mouth
Years of broken dreams and too many maybes had done a number on her
She crept forward scraping the almost empty barrel of belief

Her silhouette bled into a carpet running the length of the aisle
A Red Sea parting…dividing rows of cramped cherry stained pews.
I was there.  It was hard to tell where she ended. Where it began.
Her movement, one with the hushed rhythms of silence in a sanctuary
She seemed to float. Suspended. An apparition.

Her desperation filled the room with longing.
I wanted, we all wanted to see her made new.
Was it shawl or shield, camouflage or armor
I couldn’t tell. It both freed and bound.
Disillusionment will do that.

The frayed stitches of a scarlet letter emblazoned at her breast clung to her like a broken promise.
It hurt.

She’d been named.
Labeled by her pain. Marked . A curse
Branded…not blessed.

It smothered her faith, choked her spirit… until she had nothing to say.

Except this…

Open me, open me that I might be emptied.
Let me be the offering.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

♥ ~ read more ~

Posted in christianity, faith, Give Me Grace, life, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, open, The Church Door Series

Conversations at Grace Table : on Quiet Hospitality

Feb 18, 2015 Leave a Comment ~ Written by lisha epperson
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photo: Grace Table

“But oh! GOD is in his holy Temple! Quiet everyone—a holy silence. Listen!” ‭Habakkuk‬ ‭2‬:‭20‬ MSG

I’m at home with the littlest lovelies. Chailah has a cold and the deal-breaking fever that kept us from attending co-op. It’s cold and quiet and tiny flurries whip through the sky foreshadowing the storm to come. It is well with me. An impending storm and the holy hush that silences a city is perfect for quiet hospitality…indeed the simple celebration of being at home. In this season, my home is the temple. I welcome the silence. It’s sacred.

I’ll make soup. Bake bread. Along with a fair measure of Motrin shots I’ll hug and kiss the cooties away. I’ll have coffee ready when my husband comes home and listen to my teenaged son talk about attending high school next year. I’ll draw angry bird figures with Ade and teach him to play Go Fish. I’ll let Ila stay up late tonight. Maybe over tea we’ll discuss life – woman to woman.

But if someone stopped by today, unannounced, I’m not sure I’d answer the door. I shouldn’t admit that right? For more reasons than I can name here, my family needs all the hospitality I can offer. What we need is quiet. I need to listen for the yes, and for the no. The “as for me and my house WE”. I need to hear God – His holy affirmation of a hospitality that is quiet.

Have a seat with me at Grace Table. I want to tell you more. 

Posted in christianity, faith, Guest Post, life, parenting, relationships, uncategorized - Tagged God, Grace Table, hospitality, quiet

Give Me Grace : A Little Bit of Love

Feb 14, 2015 41 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

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“Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

– from sonnet 116 William Shakespeare

I yelled these words to my husband across a glacier in Iceland, whispered them in the rain forest in El Yunce and cried over them while watching a doomed love grow between Marianne and the dashing but dumb Willoughby in a scene from the movie Sense and Sensibility.

I’ve tried to live these words in our relationship. Because you don’t make it through the covenant of marriage without a little rattling. Love, commitment, the promise is made for shaking. Inherent in love is the promise of testing and trials.

I focused on being the ever-fixed mark. I forgot the mark lies at the center, the very bullseye of my heart. I forgot I’d get tired of being a target. Holding it down in love is hard.

Today is as good as any to check in with my heart. I’m paying attention to slight differences, however small. How marriage changes, how I am changed through choosing to go through life one part of a whole. If I’m smart I’ll choose to see the beauty in the many shades of my marriage. I’ll steel myself with the truth of our many shades of gray. It’s the journey through the spectrum that makes us real. I see consistency in complexity. And I see God.

Appreciating the difference is intentional. It’s the challenge and choice to play with texture and tone while staying in the same box. To walk through each shade as it were, with passion and hope. And grace. Gray is the perfect choice for our marriage. It’s solid but ever-changing.  The subtle degrees of difference detected in hue from day-to-day, week to week…from year to year –  are a gift.

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I got a manicure for my birthday and almost cried. The acknowledgement of self care…simply catching myself in the middle of it, almost made me cry. My littles love me up all day long but this was different. The technician cradled my hand and I melted in the simple grace of being held. I need more of that. My marriage needs more of that.

We push through weeks of skating and science and architecture and music concerts. Somewhere in the middle of all that are meals to cook, children to bathe, hugs to give. We’re knee-deep in this parenting thing and we don’t always make time for self-care. Days go by before we remember we haven’t touched.

We crawled into bed the other night with no children between us…only the 50 shades of gray that come with any marriage that lasts almost 20 years. There’s pewter, blue, ash, silver, slate, battleship gray and sometimes charcoal…almost black. Sometimes I find myself trailing off into the abyss of a blinding black hole. Sometimes love is hard. I don’t know if I want to get lost in it or face the fight to get out. This year love isn’t shiny or smooth. But it’s solid. I’m grateful for that.

I curled into his arms and breathed deep the smell of home. I held him and let myself…be held. A little bit more and a little bit more. Longer. The longer we’re together the more aware I am of loves complexity. Love takes time and I’m still getting to know the man I gave my heart among a field of flowers on a sunny day in June. I’m slowly flowering again to his embrace. Our love is like the night sky. The darkness before midnight and the morning after. Our love is a garden…growing. We’ll need at least another twenty years to harvest all Gods promised.

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all images flickr cc : Brenda Clarke

This love thing of ours was never black and white. It was always shades of gray. I knew that walking down the aisle holding a bouquet of wilting peonies. I knew it.

So today I remember…the lavender gray of twilight and the hope I found in a few still thriving branches on the Christmas tree we threw out last week. And there you have it – our love is a surprise.

I want to notice the nuanced, shaded, degrees of change in our love. The barely perceptible but beautiful changes. It’s something I can trust. May each shade be a layer, another layer of love.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

 

 

 

 

Posted in christianity, faith, life, relationships, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, 50 shades of gray, God, grace, gray, hope, love, marriage, sonnet 116, William Shakespeare

Give Me Grace : Tuning in, Taking Notice

Feb 07, 2015 31 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

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For, behold, I am for you, and I will turn to you, and you will be cultivated and sown. Ezekiel 36:9

We made it to the bus-stop just in time to catch the M3. I shuttled the kids ahead of me as I searched in the black hole of my purse for change. They scrambled for seats as the bus made its way down 5th Avenue. Slowly. I always forget how long it takes to get anywhere on the bus at midday.

The ride gave me time to meditate on my one word for the year – slow. I’d looked up to track our progress when I noticed we’d stopped in front of Conservatory Gardens, just 2 blocks from where we got on. It took 15 minutes to travel 2 city blocks. We weren’t moving.

I love this garden. It’s the home of our family tree. Where I remember Nicole – where God speaks to me on a bench. In this garden, I’m healed. But I haven’t been in a while. The Lovelies and I have weathered the winter indoors. Frigid temperatures and an unwelcome stomach virus kept us cabin bound for weeks.

Sometimes God stills us to get our attention, so I recognized the nudge. God wasn’t interested in my plans to arrive at the theater on time. He had something to say. He wanted me to look up. To notice.

Just beyond the branch covered pergola I saw a bulldozer and tractor. Piles of upturned soil and big chunks of ice pushed aside and tiny people moving in the distance. Major construction was taking place in my garden and I hadn’t noticed.

And this was the message. “I’m working. Let me do it. Let me change you. Yield to my ability. Improvement is necessary. I want to make you better. Surrender to rehabilitation, renovation. restoration. Trust me.”

Take notice – He’s turning the soil, renewing the field of your spirit…planting new seeds. All the time.

I saw it as a metaphor for life…and a promise. A promise I need to hear. Because I sometimes doubt He’ll do all He says He can do. I wonder about the reality of being broken beyond repair. I doubt the possibility of a do over. And even though He hand delivered a message to me in a reminder that’s now 4 years old, I worry that perhaps it’s too late. I worry I won’t be able to begin again. I don’t see the work He’s doing. Sometimes I don’t.

That day I saw past the breakdown to the build up. The deconstruction before reconstruction. I saw past the work of renovation to the work of redemption. And I saw the strength of my limbs in the branches of barren trees. Holding the weight and worth of a world longing for spring. I’m fragile and vulnerable. But I’m here and I can do it. The birds trust me. I haven’t cracked or broken. And somehow I keep producing. I twist and bend and because of Him I do not break.

I am the bud that blossoms after the soils been turned. I am the tree that rises after years of rest.

He’s cultivating. Pruning. Stripping. Tilling and turning the field of my life. I have to let Him do it.

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I looked up long enough that day to notice this. A cardinal. Trusting. Resting. And the bud …believing. I noticed.

Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

~ read more ~

Posted in christianity, faith, Give Me Grace, life, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, ezekiel 36:9, garden, God, notice, noticing, slow

Give Me Grace : The Power of A Single Story…Yours

Jan 31, 2015 34 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson

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My mouth will tell of your righteous acts, of your deeds of salvation all the day, for their number is past my knowledge. With the mighty deeds of the Lord God I will come; I will remind them of your righteousness, yours alone. O God, from my youth you have taught me, and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds. So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come. – Psalm 71:15-18

From the back of the room I saw tears forming in the corner of her eyes. She spoke with a lump in her throat and I could feel the soft tremble of emotion as she told her story…again. Elise Daly Parker is a community building powerhouse and her story is the goose bump kind. She tells it in a river of words that take you on a god-spotting journey. From faith-shattering to awe-inspiring you straddle the crest of the wave knowing its equal parts awful and lovely, broken and true. Still, God leaves room for calm, space to breathe…in her storm. Elise tells it with heart.

I woke up early this morning to take a van from 42nd St in New York to attend the Circles of Faith Women of Influence Breakfast. I’d looked forward to it for months. A chance to connect with other bloggers and writers on the east coast was one thing I wouldn’t miss. I made it my business to be there. An opportunity to hang out withChelle Wilson would have been reason enough to attend but there was so much more. I met the only East coast representative from Noonday and enjoyed divine appointments with women whose lives mirrored my own. The staff at Circles of Faith did a wonderful job in assembling such a diverse group. And I brought a friend, Tanya Jones, my long-time sister in ministry sat right next to me.

Before Elise finished telling her story the room erupted in jubilant praise. Standing to our feet we couldn’t help cheering. I’m sure it happens every time she tells her story – and that’s just the way God wants it. Telling our stories is potent powerful medicine. It’s a healing inoculation against doubt – a booster shot for faith. We all enjoyed the after glow of the presence of a God who lives in the story. Each word a holy helping of grace – an in the moment measure of encouragement.

I think we all got saved again hearing her story. In the telling, she did too. It’s the God good kind of story that makes you believe…because He showed himself mighty, He redeemed every shattered thing and she…lived to tell.

Don’t doubt the power of telling your story again and again and again. I watched it heal her and help us.  Doing the happy dance at the end of a battle doesn’t mean every wound has completely healed. Let’s face it, every story is a journey, a process. The fullness of redemption takes time. In the interim God makes magic with the words. The brilliance of the masterpiece is in the weaving of each sacred chapter. It all starts with words.

We live in a fast paced world that demands something new every day. It isn’t easy to keep up. We respond to the onslaught of new information by archiving our stories. Our testimonies get shelved. A good flashback reminds us of His righteousness…His mighty deeds. God works in the wonder of a new day, I’m sure of it, but there’s no expiration on the glory of a story. So begin at the beginning. I’m listening.

Celebrate the power of a single story. Tell your story again. 
Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace

♥ ~ read more ~

Posted in blogging, christianity, faith, Give Me Grace, life, uncategorized - Tagged #GiveMeGrace, Chelle Wilson, Circles of Faith, Elise Daly Parker, encouragement, friend, God, story, Tanya Jones, the power of a single story, women, Words
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lisha epperson

lisha epperson

recipient of grace, lover of family, woman of God. Christian, homeschooling mama of 5, wife of 1. believer in miracles and the promise of redemption. passionate about parenting, adoption, women, nutrition, dance, fashion. a lover of words.....

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