“It’s time to win,” I whispered. I wasn’t just talking about conquering the hill. I was talking about winning in life. Have you ever been there? In that uncomfortable spot between the accomplishments of the past and the doubt of the present?

One young mom frowned saying, “You are so skinny.” I shot back, “Too skinny actually, but your skin is porcelain clear. My complexion is awful without make-up.” We were caught in the comparison trap. The effort to compliment each other did not help as we had hoped.

After our walk taking one more look at my cherished rosebush I noticed each delicate petal spread wide willingly offering its fragrance and taking in the warmth of the sun without apology. I too want to live with an open heart and willing spirit to give beauty to others and receive new strength from God even if it requires getting out the pruning shears. 

The air smelled like gardenias, and a simple walk down the street drew your eye to countless flowering bushes and trees. Hawaii is known for its vibrant colored plant life contrasted by the stark black craggy coastal line. Hawaii is a magical place, I firmly believe, but only God can heal the heart.

Letters and numbers are still new to him. Being surrounded by other kids can make the lessons hard on his focus, but he doesn’t complain as we near the drop-off door. Instead, he hops out of the van with a hearty, “Bye Mom!” Instantly I am challenged by his energetic words. He was ready to learn from the new day, and I knew I must also choose to look on the bright side.

We have so many blind spots we cannot see. We need others to come along and show us in their unique way, through the language of friendship, how to get through. In the hardships of life, a friend makes the journey beautiful.

One late spring day, she invited me to take a horseback ride with her in the country. I feared big animals, especially horses, but I didn’t want her to know that. On the ride, when foul words erupted from my mouth my fear was made unfortunately clear.

When you look in the mirror what do you see? Do you frown at the person looking back at you? I am learning to be kind to the woman I see in the mirror.

When I was younger I thought trusting God was a given, but I realize now that one must decide every day to follow, seek, and trust. I am not going on autopilot. I guess that is what happens when you start over from scratch.

It’s hard to believe that anyone could see the power of God in a greater way than when Jesus walked the earth. I have seen Revival and I believe God is still moving today.

We had loaded the forty teenagers into two buses with chaperones and our family to go zip-lining through the rainforest in Costa Rica. The trip would take a few hours and the students were buzzing with excitement. Everything was going well until one of the buses broke down.

Growing up, I was the third of four kids and I struggled with feeling “invisible.” I remember sitting at the dinner table looking at my Father’s handsome face. My two older brothers had the ability to capture his attention with their funny stories. His face would light up with laughter. I wanted to make him laugh too…

Still in shock from the unfortunate news, my senses became awakened to the sacred blessings of my life. Looking soberly in the mirror I realized I often take life for granted, so I paused to recall all the details.

Hope is as pink as a wild rose. I see it’s pink petals beginning to unfold. This hope is like the wild roses I’ve seen flourishing on the edge of the gravel road on my way home. The light pink blossoms remind me that beauty can thrive even in rocky soil.

 In the distance, I could see a young woman walking in the blowing sand. The sweltering heat beat down on her as the sun stood high in the sky. As I squinted in the glare trying to make my hands a visor to shield my eyes I could see the weary girl was expecting a child but seemed to be in trouble as I watched her crumble under a tree. 

I had seen him excited, proud, and happy with me many times in my life, but this was different. It was here in this place that miracles have happened for us.

A tear traveled up from that deep place her story had awakened. I could hear the little voices of our daughters playing in the other room. Effortlessly they giggled and played as if worlds never collided, as if we all were simply girls.

I met her my last year of college. Her name was typed out on the list of cleaning jobs thumb tacked to the bulletin board in the student center. I put down my duster to jot down her name, Willette Lanning.

We made small talk for a little while before I passed out the little communion cups. It had been years since she had been able to go to church because of her health, so it felt a little like Christmas.