This morning I forgot something.
Coffee? Got it. Car keys? Got em. Morning playlist? Bumping. Remembering that I serve a risen savior and my mandate to spread His message to everyone? I uh, might have left that at my parent’s church on Sunday.
"Congratulations!!" I type the words in reply to a friend’s happy news, intentionally adding numerous emoticons, and a silly gif for good measure. The sentiment is true. I genuinely mean it. But it carries with it a familiar ache.
Have you ever felt like the fairy tale was meant for everyone except you? I have.
Hindsight. How many times have you wished that you could get the benefit of hindsight without having to endure the experience? I know I have, many times.
When we get to the events of Good Friday, death on a cross and a sealed tomb, it’s easy for us to rush past it, because… hindsight. You see, we know what the disciples had no way of knowing on that day. We know that Jesus doesn’t stay in that tomb. That He does in fact get out, and they get in to see the empty tomb and hear the angel’s voice telling them “He is risen!”
Five years ago, I became an adoptive grandma. I watched as my daughter and son-in-law held their child for the first time. Three years later, it happened again!
These boys are gifts, placed in the arms of a family waiting and searching and praying for them for a long time. Is it all joy and roses? No, there are nights when one fights sleep like a tiger.
I’ve thought about it before, but it's even more remarkable when you hear it.
The disciples, the ones who had a front row seat to seeing Jesus as Master and King, are arguing about which one of them is the greatest. It sounds absurd. Ridiculous. Arrogant. And far too familiar.
Spring is here! The trees are starting to bud, and flowers are starting to bloom. Love is in the air.
Young couples are getting married soon, about to start their new life together. How can every couple keep that love fresh and new?
Today I am praying for a young 15 year-old girl, who just this morning underwent a bone marrow transplant. Thanks to the internet, I’ve been able to follow the course of her treatment since her diagnosis seven months ago. Her parents have faithfully updated their blog so all of us can pray informed prayers.
I wince when I read their reports. They sound so very much like Psalm 22. Like Jesus’ cries from the cross.
Our culture is sorely lacking in civility and common decency these days. But I heard a story that lifted my spirits and I’d like to share it with you.
Billy was attending his first day at junior high school. It began with an assembly where all the home room teachers were introduced. First to be introduced was Miss Smith. The ninth graders knew she was an easy grader and not much of a disciplinarian. They began to cheer for her. The next to be introduced was Mr. Brown, who was a young and popular teacher — a special favorite. This time the eighth graders joined in the thundering approval.
I’m author Holley Gerth, and if we could have coffee today I’d say, “Let’s look for the best in each other.”
It seems we are becoming a world that sees the worst in each other. Just take a look on social media. This concerns me because as I like to say, “People tend to become who you believe them to be. So believe the best." No one ever became a better person because someone believed the worst about them.
During the two and a half years my husband and I dated, we definitely had a breakup. Once we got back together and it was getting serious, I started to panic. As a teenager I had developed this list of all the qualities my perfect man would have. And what do you know? Cary, the guy I was dating, didn't fit the list.