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A Bruised Reed

Productive or non-productive, our Lord's love and tenderness towards us is unchanging. Jo relates her experience with depression to a bruised reed or a smoldering wick.
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I Am Who You Say I Am

One of the enormous spiritual tasks we face is claiming our true identity as beloved of God, over how we might feel about ourselves in any given moment. De Yarrison offers two simple daily steps to aid us in the process.
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Newborn Wonder

Christmas Wonderings

When each of my three children were born and the midwife lifted them up for me to see and placed them on my chest all I could do was stare at them and whisper, “Oh my God. Oh my God.” This was the only prayer I could formulate and articulate: a prayer of thanksgiving, of amazement, and disbelief at the tiny, heartbreakingly beautiful little person we were blessed to be entrusted with. The night of the first Christmas, before the heavenly host sang their Gloria, before the shepherds hurried to Bethlehem, and before the wise men brought their gifts, there…

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Feeling New

What does it feel like when you’re new? It’s like your first pair of shoes: squeaky clean and ready to go, but they don’t quite fit yet. It’s like the first snowfall of the season: fresh and unblemished but frigid. When you’re new, it’s as if you are walking in to your first day of freshman year all over again, except you’re not. You’re older now and supposedly a bit wiser, but you feel like that awkward, bumbling teen who doesn’t know where she’s supposed to go or how to act in order to fit in. When you’re new, what…

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Always a Way Through

Blue Sky Over Me Vast and unending Warm, peaceful, still. With depth and breadth, expansive Abundance all around me Always available to me Full, grateful, with ease. This is a poem (can I call that a poem?) I wrote in prayer a few years ago. I was journeying through a particular valley in my marriage and I had fallen into an emotional habit of being sullen, even joyless. I know, hard to imagine me that way, huh? ;-) As I moved through the valley, I knew that my best hope of climbing up and out was to look up and…

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Listen for the Voice

My kids talk. A lot. They’re not shy, and they have an overabundance of opinions. They pretty much communicate in some way – words, songs, yelling – from the time they wake up to the time they fall asleep. They share some really amazing things. (And some things I wish they didn’t!) I freely admit, there is so much coming at me on a daily basis, I cannot digest it all. I hear, but I’m not always listening. Yet every so often, one of them will say or do something so profound, so wise, I am sure it’s the Holy…

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Peace and Anxiety: a Curious Juxtaposition

I was encouraged this summer to consider the fruit of the Spirit. Something most Christians are fairly familiar with. One of the things charming children’s songs help us memorize at an early age. Galatians 5:22-23: But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Against such things there is no law. Peace with an anxiety disorder? As I considered the scriptures I began to ponder how these fruits of the spirit may look different than we might think or have been taught. I mean, I look at my life with my anxiety…

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Paddle Back to Shore

I was distracted the first few months of summer. Swamped. Work-crazy. Traveled home to help my mom. Baseball tournaments. One vacation, then another. All good stuff. But I may have missed a Mass. OK, maybe several. My list of excuses is long and weak. Yet I learned something during that sporadic hiatus. It started to affect the things I typically do daily to boost my faith, or at least keep it status quo. Not celebrating Mass with God each week, experiencing that much-needed touch point every Sunday morning, made it easier to neglect my daily rituals. It became convenient not…

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Broken And Beautiful

Beautiful Brokenness

“I hope nothing’s wrong with this one,” my friend brazenly blurted after my pregnancy announcement during our monthly women’s Bible study. A few cringed following her comment, and I caught their discomfort in my periphery. Somehow, as calloused and cruel as that statement could be, I knew my friend was well-intentioned, so I politely thanked her and changed the subject. Still, my heart was torn in the aftermath of her blunt statement. It wasn’t even like she attempted to package it with consolation or preface it with an explanation. It was just spewed out of her mouth without warning or…

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A Legacy of Love

Whenever a certain friend of my oldest comes over, at some point she wears my Grandma Gerry’s wedding dress. This homemade, pink dress that oozes the 70s somehow made it into our wardrobe of costumes, and it gets amazing use. Besides being the preferred outfit for the 9-year-old girl, it is the perfect costume when a Good Queen Mommy is needed (Evil Queen is a different costume, different blog post). Whenever I see it, I think of Grandma Gerry. Any time someone is wearing that symbol of her love for the Gettinger family, I think of her legacy of love. I…

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