Memories are perhaps the best gifts of all.

Even in the winter, in the midst of the storm, the sun is still there. Somewhere above the clouds, it still shines and warms and pulls at the life buried deep inside the brown branches and frozen earth.

We may run, walk, stumble, drive, or fly, but let us never lose sight of the reason for the journey or miss a chance to see a rainbow on the way.

We need the whole song, all the verses and the choruses to serve us as our own story unfolds because- trust me- life is hard, but God is good.

Line by line, moment by moment, special times are etched into our memories in the permanent ink of everlasting love in our relationships.

How beautiful it is to learn that Grace isn't fragile, and that in the family of God we can fail and not be a failure.

Prayer is sort of like an unlocked door with a giant, red-lettered sign on it that says: "Welcome. Feel Free to Take What You Need." Inside is the storehouse of all that God is. He invites us to share it all. He doesn't intend for us to stay on the outside and struggle all alone with the perplexities of life, and He not only invites us to come in, but to stay in. . . . It is an on-going process, not just an occasional religious-sounding speech we make to a nebulous divinity "out there somewhere." Prayer is meant to be a part of our lives, like breathing and thinking and talking.