Maybe your life has been shook up like that quake disrupted a quiet, peaceful Saturday morning. We all find ourselves at the doorstep of fear wondering if everything is going to crumble. It’s remarkable to me that God offers us Jesus as our cornerstone and His strength as our foundation.
Last week I sat in a dark auditorium and watched my daughter and four of her friends perform a one act play that she had written. I always cry when any of my kids performs, whether it’s singing in the choir, acting in a play, or chasing a ball in sports.
I have four new scars on my body that I didn’t have a month ago. Four lines of pink skin that marks the spots the surgeon’s instruments were placed. Those four scars join a host of others. Some visible, many hidden. All of them with a story to tell.
Hey guys. Just a little update on what’s going on with me and why you won’t be hearing from me in the mornings for the next few weeks.
I don’t think I will ever forget February 9, 2015. Even more than the day we brought sweet Ruth home… even more than the day the paperwork craziness was finally done… this day will forever be a maker in my memory.
It's been over a year since I've written anything, at least publicly. My journal has gotten quite the workout, but I didn't blog at all in 2015. I didn't set out to take a year off from writing, it was purely accidental. Honestly, I didn't really feel like I had anything to say.
It's been almost 5 months since my last blog post. Strangely it's titled The Silence. I wasn't trying to be prophetic. I didn't intentionally set out to take a break from blogging, it just sort of happened. I was tired. Tired of all of the noise.
It’s that time of the year again, time to pause before a new year begins and spend some time reflecting and planning. Below is the list of questions I work through each year. I find them to be quite helpful, and hope you do too. Happy New Year! ~Keri.
In my Bible between the Old and New Testament is one single sheet of tissue-thin blank paper. One page. I can flip past it in the blink of an eye, which is deceptive, because that single sheet of empty paper represents 400 years of silence. 400 years of wondering. 400 years of questions.
Three years ago I found myself sitting in my car in a parking lot on a Friday night. I knew I needed to get out of the car and go in but I was afraid. I was also desperate, and that night I let desperation win.