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I worked myself into a funk after I listened to a fellow missionary, Sheryl, share about her prayer closet. Our ministry was gathered for our yearly worship service - to watch the Super Bowl. The women, of course, were sitting around the kitchen table talking. Sheryl is beautiful in form and spirit. As she described her early intimate years with Christ when He truly was her first love, we sat in wordless adoration. He had miraculously saved her and delivered her from a life of addictions. She...

Hope is blue. Blue like the sky no crayon can match. Blue like the deepest part of the sea striking terror in anyone daring to glimpse it. Hope is fat. Like the pink toes of a 4 month old crowded on one foot. Fat like the steely arm of a grandmother holding you firm on her lap. Hope is tranquil. Like the face of a golden sunflower turned toward the sun. Like the mirrored surface of a pond on a cool spring morn. Hope is tender. Like hundreds of the greenest pine saplings dotting a hill. Like t...