That’s All I Want!

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  I heard the story of a young girl who had memorized Psalm 23 and was eager to share it in her Sunday School class. With as much confidence as she could muster, she stood up and began reciting the passage. “The Lord is my shepherd—that’s all I want.” Though humorous and sweet, that statement is packed with truth. David’s first occupation was a shepherd, and he deeply understood the relationship between a shepherd and his flock. It’s from this experience he penned the most well-known Psalm in the Bible. Like a shepherd cares for his sheep, God cares for…

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Why This Waste?

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Have you ever asked, “Why this waste?” While Jesus was in Bethany at the house of Simon the leper, a woman brought an alabaster box containing expensive perfume and poured it on his head. “Why this waste?” said the disciples, indignant. “This perfume could have been sold at a high price and the money given to the poor.” The woman’s deed was to prepare him for burial, Jesus said. “Wherever this gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her” (see Matthew 26:6-13). In baffling times when I could see no…

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When Life’s too Much

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  “Your mother is dying.” My mind understood the doctor’s words, but my heart refused to believe them. Only a few days prior, my ninety-four-year-old mother had taken a day trip to Reno with my husband. How could she be dying? Why now, God? This was supposed to be the weekend I would put the final touches on my novel before sending it to my agent. Too many circumstances in the past six months had kept me from diligently writing. Moving in with my mom after her stroke. Readying our house for sale. Packing the things of my own I…

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Mom’s Legacy

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  What item in your closet should probably be thrown out? If somebody rummaged through my clothes, they’d most likely choose the ratty ol’ black sweater. It’s faded, a bit threadbare, and stretched out of shape. But it still hangs in my closet…for a reason. When my mother passed away, my sisters and I packed up her clothes. We each took a few as mementos. I chose the black sweater, already worn with age. If I feel a bit down, I slip my arms through the sleeves. It is almost as if my mom is hugging me once again. My mother was…

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