I don’t foster because of who I am

I have been a foster parent for nineteen years. I started fostering because I thought I could add something to a child’s life that they wouldn’t have without me. It was only a few days after I welcomed my first baby into my life that I realized she would add a whole lot more to my life than I could ever give her.

I was at a cross road in my life and was afraid of everything. I was a shell of a person. Going about day to day with my routines. Staying comfortable. Never taking a risk. I was bored and although I prayed constantly and fervently, I felt distant from God. I wasn’t even sure He existed. Jumping off a cliff seemed a better solution than the mundane life I was living.

I read my Bible, listened to christian radio, and went to every church function. I was burning out, but I was not Christlike and I knew it. I did not have the joy of the Lord that I was supposed to have. I had the material possessions I needed but I was not happy or satisfied. I ask the question over and over, “What is the purpose of prayer?”   Eventually I had enough of the rat wheel I was on. The first risk I took was taking on the mortgage of house. Soon my selfish heart began to disgust me. I didn’t think I had anything to give but I know I needed to share what I had.

After filling out the needed paperwork, a beautiful baby girl was placed in my home. It was within the first few hours of holding her, the blinders were peeled off and I began to understand what God has done for me. He adopted me as His own daughter. And eventually I was able to legally adopt Jaylene. Everyday spent with her I was reminded of my inadequacies. But I grew deeper in love with her and I left behind my fear of failure and became more dependent of knowing God’s love for her and for me.

That love was tested when she was a teenager, but that is her story to tell.  The question I asked years ago was answered on a daily basis. The purpose of prayer is to talk to God about everything and use His power to battle the principalities that seek to destroy us. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Ephesians 6:12

I could go on and on of the many times God was more real to us than the world which we live in. Check out my God stories in previous posts.

When Jaylene was five years old, she began to ask for a sister. God answered her prayer and brought her a sister that was a year older than her. It was a new kind of adjustment. But once again, God revealed His plan in my life and used Tonya to show me more of who I was meant to be.

The third girl I fostered was a newborn and had visits with her mom and dad, three times a week. I drove Betty for the visits and provided support to her parents when they needed it. I got up to feed her three times a night and change her messy diapers. Some nights I was very tired but her dependence on me, kept me going. I realized that God wanted me to depend on Him like newborn depends on her caregiver. She only stayed with us for a month and eventually she went to live with her mother. The relationship we started through her baby continues and we remain friends.

The fourth girl,  I fostered was a newborn and had visits with her mom twice a week. By the time I opened my home to her, my girls were old enough to help out with childcare. Shelly stayed with us for nine months. She was a very happy baby. She often had a smile on her face and she would giggle with joy. She taught me to laugh for no reason at all. I still miss the sunshine she brought into our lives.

As a write this, I have opened my home to another nine month old girl. She has already stolen my heart and is teaching me to be happy with what is right in front of me. She is content to play with a toy dangling in front of her face for long periods of time. Kayla is a content, happy girl who loves cuddles.

Fortunately,  the first two girls I opened my heart to, are still living with me. Every time I say good-bye to one of these precious children, a piece of my heart goes with them. I walk around like a zombie for the first few weeks after they are gone. The tears just seem to flow with no control. Everything reminds of them and I wake up in the night thinking I hear them cry.

Why do I put myself through such agony? Because I believe in a God of reconciliation. I believe that every child is a gift from God and every parent deserves a second chance to turn their life around. I believe in miracles.

I was lost

Happy New Year! I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting on myself as a writer. I have always been a writer. It has been a safe place to discover myself. It is where I get to know myself. Because I have chosen to be a follower of Jesus, it has been a place of shelter for me to wrestle through my issues of trust in my relationship with an unseen presence in my life.

I have enjoyed the writing of many authors and have often been able to identify with their struggles and triumphs, but let face it, their story is not my story. I have kept my story hidden in my heart for many years. A few decades ago, God began to impress on me to share my story, but I refused to be that vulnerable.

Finally in 2013 I went to a women’s writing conference, SheSpeaks. There I gathered with hundreds of women who were ready to tell their stories. I still refused to tell the story God gave me, but I was willing to admit that I was called  to write. It was shortly after, I started this blog. Originally my blog was just short God stories. I tried to copy the style of other authors I had read. But needless to say, that didn’t last long because although those stories were real, they were not the real message of my heart.

November 2014, I began to take more of risk and began to tell MY story. I learned so much about myself and my relationship with Jesus Christ. I wrote to find healing and purpose in the pain of life. I shared my story with a few people and had mixed reactions. Some found it helpful, others were bored and confused.

So I joined a community of writers through Compel Training. I was so inspired and encouraged through this community, but it eventually I began to compare myself to others and I lost who I was. I am not a devotional writer. I’m not an inspirational writer. I don’t have a message I am dying for you to know. I don’t have a gift with stringing words together like Ann Voskamp or Patsy Claremont. I love reading their material, but that is not who I am.

I am just one woman walking along the path we call life. Sometimes, I walk alone and sometimes I ask others to walk with me. If you are reading this, thank you for walking with me. As part of my blog I have a tab where you can follow my story. It is through this story that I open the window to my soul, you are welcome to have a peek.



I have just finished writing out a four page prayer to God. I was thanking Him for taking the negative friends out of my daughter’s life. I also acknowledged  how lonely she is and asked Him to bring new healthy friends into her life. I thought I would end with a peace and joy in my heart.

I had accomplished my goal as her mother. I had kept her safe from people who would hurt her. I had kept her protected from people who would challenge her value. I should be awarding myself the mother of the week.

Before I wrote out my prayer, I talked to a trusted friend. She agreed with me. We need to keep our children from non-christians who cause them to question the character of God. She reminded me that we could pray for those people when God brings them to mind.

So why don’t I have peace and joy in my heart. Because these friends ate at my table, had sleepovers and saw me in my morning attire. I spent hours giving these friends rides home and talking them during the car rides. A few these friends called me Justina’s mom and some of them called me “mom”. I grew to care for them.

I can’t just pray that God protect my daughter from pain. I have to pray that God will develop character in my daughter through  the pain. I feel her loss and I have to pray that she would experience the joy of reconciliation because we serve a God of reunification. In fact, He sent His Son to the earth in order for us to be united to heaven and all the treasures it has to offer.

So the last two pages of my prayer ended up being a petition to work in these teenagers and young adults lives so that God’s kingdom would be realized on this earth. I was challenged to move toward the uncomfortableness of the cross and away from the safety provided by the walls of religion. The cross is heavy. The cross is covered with blood. It is a reminder of pain. The walls of religion shut out the reality of the struggle that the world deals with everyday.I have to believe in the character of God because I have hope in nothing else.

My nature is to run from conflict and discomfort. I don’t want to pass that on to my daughter. I want her to know the joy of finding strength in the struggle. I want her to grow towards the awkward weight of the cross and stretch her wings in order to find her value in the Jesus who modelled true compassion for all people.

The parenting struggle is real. My job is to fulfill God’s purpose and I can’t pray for God to work in others lives unless I am praying for the same thing in my life.

Our Father in heaven,
Reveal who you are.
Set the world right;
Do what’s best—
as above, so below.


“A scar is never ugly. The scar makers want us to think they make us defective. We must see all scars as beauty….A scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, I survived.”

When events in my life keep happening over and over again. I begin to question my heart. I not only questioned it – I begin to despise it. Why did I love again? Why did I take that risk? Will I never learn? What is wrong with me?

I remember the day I realized my heart was wounded. It was the day it stopped hurting. I was driving along the highway and was reflecting on the days events. Suddenly I grabbed my chest because for the first time in years there was no pain. I had grown so used to the pain that I didn’t even notice it anymore. I had asked God to heal me, but I never believed He would do it. My wounds had become a part of me. My pain was who I was.

The day I was released from it. I felt free. But I also felt naked. I had spent so many years focussed on the pain that when it was gone I was confused and disoriented. Now where should my focus be. Who was I? I felt like I needed a new identity.

I wanted to protect my heart because it felt so soft – so vulnerable. I didn’t recognize myself. Instead of looking at my heart, I turned my focus to others.  I didn’t understand my own wounds enough to help others. I just wanted to fix the people who came across my path. Somehow I thought if I could fix them, I won’t have to acknowledge my scars.

When I went for my Masters in Counselling,  I tried to learn the language and posture of counsellors. I said “It sounds like you are saying…..” I watched the body language of the other counsellors. I sat forward in my chair with my legs crossed looking straight at my client. But that didn’t fit who I was.  There were some people whom I could not relate to. Not all scars form in the same way, and therefore, the treatment for each scar is specific. I recognized pain but I couldn’t see the details.

I was a trustworthy person. I was loyal. I was always there, but never too close. I saw God work in others lives, but I couldn’t see His hand in mine. I prayed for other people often. I even became an answer to those prayers. I was terrified to pray for myself. I knew I had scars, but I was ashamed of them. The people who were put in my path were important to God. I kept them at arms distance because I felt their pain and I didn’t always know where mine ended and theirs started. I didn’t hear them because I was putting too much energy into trying to cover my own imperfections. I didn’t want to be reminded of the pain that created the cuts and bruises on my soul.

The formation of a scar is a natural healing process and  every scar has a story to tell, particularly those severe ones which require time to heal. I longed for intimacy but was terrified of it. My blemishes were my secret. My imperfections became who I was behind the facade of counsellor and teacher. Behind the protective image of counsellor, I never let the tenderness of my heart become exposed.

I knew the brokenness of my heart was healing but  I  couldn’t get used to the change. The closer I came to wholeness, the more exposed my scars became. I didn’t want to be known as the broken survivor.

I have always been ashamed to admit that I was damaged. I was hurt. I was weak. I wanted to feel whole but it was the strength of the scars that held my heart together. I began to really see Jesus.

As the filter was lifted from my eyes and I began to see my journey to wholeness as opportunity to connect with those who were hurting. I saw my scars as channels of hope.  My scars are my strength. My scars are not who I am. They are the tool that shaped me into who I am. They are the reason I found life and purpose.

Jesus’ scars give purpose to my life. This Thanksgiving weekend, I am thankful for the pain that caused the scars because they lead me to seek Jesus and find my strength and identity in Him.

Isaiah 53:5

But he was hurt because of us; he suffered so.

Our wrongdoing wounded and crushed him.

He endured the breaking that made us whole





What do you think?

I am messing around with a story that is bouncing around in my head. In my teaching on how to be a good writer, I am practicing how to show not tell. I want to be better at this skill as a writer and as a teacher of writers.

I need your help. I have read and reread this piece so many times and it sounds good in my head. Could you help me out?

I am trying to create a picture of a newborn a few hours after her birth. The message I want to portray is that she is innocent and vulnerable.

I welcome your feedback on where I am accomplishing my goal. Do you want to know about her painful history? What emotions does this passage evoke in you?

I appreciate your input.


She came into this world a 7 pound 4 ounce, 21 inch bundle of joy on July 25, 2015 at 12:46.

She loved being held, safe and warm as a gentle hand touched each toe and finger. Her little heart began to beat harder as she felt the light touch of lips on her forehead. Her body was stimulated as her head was tenderly stroked. She felt complete. Strong. 

She was ready to learn about life and experience its adventures.

Her first discovery was how to move her lips into different shapes. She practiced opening and closing her eyes allowing them to adjust to light and darkness. Her ears heard the music of laughter. She recognized the voices that had been there from the moment of her conception. 

The voices softly said her name. Bella Rose Duck. Bella meaning beautiful. Rose meaning sweet-smelling flower. Duck, a bird that symbolizes freedom. A duck can walk on the earth and swim in the sea as humans do but also has the ability to soar into the sky. She was a beautiful rose that had the ability and potential to soar. She was beautiful Ojibway princess.

She knew she was loved. She knew she was cherished. She knew she was destined for big dreams. 

In her innocence, she expected to always know the warmth of her mother’s arms and the sweet taste of her mother’s milk.

She had not experienced rejection or neglect. She had committed no crime. And she had no awareness of her rich and painful history.


Happy Birthday!

One year ago

One year ago today, I got up early. Made sure the crib was ready. Made sure the car seat was ready. Ate my breakfast. Read my Facebook page. And waited.

Finally the phone rang. “Could you meet at the Child and Family Office? We have a newborn for you.” With excitement and anticipation, Justina and I drove into Winnipeg to pick up our new roommate.

Rewind to a few months before.
God placed it in my heart to open my home to another child needing a home. Some of my friends said, “Don’t do it. You will ruin your family” Others said,” Fifty-five is too old to care for a newborn.” A church member said,” Why would you give up your freedom for someone else’s child?”

But God said, “ I have a plan. Will you trust me?”

I said, “Yes.” Because seventeen years before I had said yes to God and I had the privilege of raising a child to adulthood. And I saw the amazing hand of God move in our lives in ways I never could have imagined.

That “yes” lead me to the CFS office waiting for a baby girl to come from the hospital. Mom and dad were drug users so I was nervous that I had taken on more than I could handle. The longer the social worker left me sitting there, the more I second guessed my decision. Surely I had misunderstood God’s voice in my life. I must have had a weak moment when I said yes.

When I looked at the infant in the baby carrier, I was flooded with love. And then I knew. -I knew that God loved me.


Needy me.

Another woman’s child.

As I studied each little feature of my little girl,I felt how God feels about me. God loves me enough to give His Son. Enough to use me as part of His plan.

I didn’t know what His plan was, but I knew without a doubt I was a part of His plan. I couldn’t wait to get to know that little girl who was entrusted to my care. She stole my heart.

Part of fostering this beautiful baby was taking her for visits with her parents three times a week. After a month of visiting with them every second day, we developed a trusting relationship. This was a new journey, but it felt so natural – so right.

I grew to care about them more than I wanted to. So when the social worker decided to move our now one month old to a new home, I was confused, scared and very sad. I was afraid that God’s plan would not be realized.

One day while I sat in church questioning my part in God’s plan. I was given a vision of the baby’s parents sitting with me in church.

I stayed in contact with the baby’s parents and invited them to attend with me. They began to come to church with us and when my budget allowed I would take them out for lunch. I helped and cheered as mom set up her own apartment. I celebrated with her each time she gained one more month of sobriety. I watched God move in her life and set her free from her past mistakes.

I listened to the parents stories and shared my heart with them. Now a year later, mom has custody of her baby and dad is still active in their lives. Today,we were part of gathering of all the people who have helped guide this family to emotional health as we celebrated baby’s first birthday.

God’s love is amazing. He loves to give good gifts. He loves to lavish His love on His adopted children. His heart is for you. His heart is for me.

As I journey on the path of life, I am learning about God’s unrelenting love. Saying yes to God is always the best yes.

Bird’s Eye View

Matthew 6:25 I tell you not to worry about your life. Don’t worry about having something to eat, drink, or wear. Isn’t life more than food or clothing? 26 Look at the birds in the sky! They don’t plant or harvest. They don’t even store grain in barns. Yet your Father in heaven takes care of them. Aren’t you worth more than birds?27 Can worry make you live longer?

I’m a worrier. I admit it. I worry about many things in my life. I worry that I don’t have enough money. I worry that I have too much money. I worry about eating nutritious meals. I worry about getting too much sleep. I worry about not getting enough sleep.
I’m a worrier.

Yesterday while I stole a few treasured moments to read a book in the back yard, the silence was broken by the squawking of birds. I looked up in time to see a big black crow fly away. Then my attention was drawn to the sound of something landing on the pool cover.

A baby bluejay dropped down from the sky.

I watched the little chick struggle to hop across the pool cover. I felt my anxiety rise as the tiny nestling headed for the water. I yelled for my daughter to come. The saying that misery loves company is really true. My heart was racing and having her there helped me focus on the crisis at hand.Besides two heads are better than one.

First I found a box and together we thought about ways we could lure the creature into the box. That didn’t work because every time we moved to the side of the pool where the bird sat balancing on the edge of the pool cover, it would peep loudly and the adult birds would start circling in the sky over our heads.

Then my daughter tried to pull the pool cover towards the edge of the pool hoping to make a ramp so the baby bird could hop up and out of the pool safely. The bluejay got really scared and cried and peeped like it was being tortured. This time the parents were not going to just observed their baby from a distance. This time they came lower – much lower and made it very clear that we were not to go near their little fledgling.

I put on a bike helmet to protect myself from the parent’s sharp beaks and tried to use the pool net to scoop up the little bird. But I was so afraid of hurting it,I was not quick enough nor accurate enough to meet success. Also,I felt kind of silly walking around with a bike helmet on my head.

Finally my daughter tried to solve the problem in the modern way. She put it out on FaceBook that we were out of options.

While she waited for inspiration to come, she sat by the pool and stared at the little bluejay.

I told her that God takes care of the birds and I was sure a solution would come to us. But within a few hours the little chick succumbed to its injuries.

We silently scooped the little chick out of the water and placed it gently in a box. What we didn’t know is that it had a huge claw mark on its chest and was fatally wounded.

Today when I went outside the parents were still sitting high up in the branches over head. Every time I moved they screeched at me to remind me that I had in some way hurt their offspring.

I was fascinated by their ability to see all the way down to ground level from their perch on the highest tree in my yard. It reminded me of my relationship with God. Often it feels as if He is far too distant for Him to see me and my petty problems. But He has a bird’s eye view and can see all He needs to see to meet my needs.

As I journey on the path of life, I want change my habit of worrying and turn my face upward to the One who sees all. He can be trusted to protect and provide.

Does life ever seem overwhelming and worry seems to be your only coping mechanism? Leave me a comment and tell me about your experience.

Out of Control

I hired a pool company to get our pool ready for the swimming season. The arrangement was for them to come at four o’clock after I returned from work. At eleven o’clock in the morning, while I was teaching math to a group of very energetic grade one students, I noticed my cell phone lit up with multiple texts. Apparently the pool people arrived earlier than planned. They broke into the back yard and rummaged through my garage to find the supplies they needed to do the job I had hired them for. I felt
violated and unprepared. IMG_0484

When I got home, I was inspecting their work and I noticed that the garden hose was turned on. Although it had a nozzle on the end, it was turned on at the main source. When my daughter tried to turn it off, she discovered that the outside faucet was broken. She tried to the best of her ability to use a wrench to turn off the water. I knew we had a shut off valve inside the house, but this involved standing on the dryer and bending her head in an unnatural angle. When my daughters tried to maneuver their bodies into the tiny space to turn the shut off valve, they were unable to turn it. So here we were with the outside hose spraying water all over the lawn and unable to turn off the faucets that controlled the water. I had not yet discovered the main shut off for the entire house. IMG_0483

After a quick prayer for help, I called a plumber. God answered my prayer. Within five minutes, the plumber arrived. He replaced the outside faucet. Confirmed that the inside shut off valve needs replacing. And showed me where the main shut off is located.

I am fuming over the costs of the day. The pool company broke the outside faucet but refused to take responsibility for it.

Upon reflection, God has been trying to get my attention for months now. The impression I get is that I have something inside me that needs to flow out. I am an introvert by nature. Every time I think I have the confidence to open the tap, I welcome an interference and ignore the pressure building up on the inside. When I experienced the agony of not being able to control the water flow, I was given the strong impression that if I don’t willingly pour into others what God had poured into me, He will break me so the flow can not be contained. IMG_0481

I want to be obedient to God’s call, but sometimes I get so confused. There are voices everywhere telling me what a good christian girl looks like. When I shut out the voices and get one on one with my Bible and God’s message to me. My heart confirms that God is God. He is in control. He is good. He is love. And His love has power that the world can not offer.

Now I have a shiny new tap on the outside of my house. As I journey on the path of life,I want to be a shiny vessel that pours life in the lives around me. Will you walk this path with me and cheer me on?

The Perfect Valentine

“Are you excited?” “Yes, I sure am.”

He was hyper with excitement.He was planning a Valentine surprise for her. She was all giddy and excited by his efforts. She bought a new outfit so she would look the part of the girlfriend.

Theirs was a soft love. When he found her, she was in recovery. Most of her friends had moved on while she struggled with her demons. He had a few friends but had been wounded in love.When he saw her, he knew she was someone he wanted in his world. She never saw him because she was so deep in the lies she believed about herself.

As teenage boys will do, he began to play with her. Sometimes throwing a blanket over her head and running away. Sometimes stealing a bite of her lunch. Hopeful for a positive response. Finally after numerous attempts, he had her attention. Her focus shifted from her own issues and she began to see ways she could add to his life.

Young love. So beautiful. So innocent. 12742717_1269454326404882_148475486911023340_n

At first, she was cautious of her emotions. He was so fun loving and carefree. Soon she found herself enjoying his company and missing him when he was gone. He knew she was wounded and was afraid of hurting her more. But he was determined to win her love. At first, they only talked when they were in the safety of a friend circle. She watched him for flaws. He watched her wondering if she was like all the others.

Their friendship grew as each day they spent more and more time together. One day, he found the courage to ask her out to a movie. She felt special. She felt chosen. He felt as if he can conquered a mountain.

The lies she had so long believed about herself began to be replaced by truth. The truth scared her and sometimes she pushed him away. But he never faltered in his efforts to show her how he valued her.

He kept his eyes on her so he was ready to meet her needs. He took care of her when she was hurting. He carried her books. He ran for her lunch.

Gradually they began to trust each other and their relationship grew deeper. Even though they had only known each other for a month, they were jealous when others tried to take attention away from their relationship. They called each other pet names like “paper clips” and “sock monkey”. They saw each others flaws and were only more attracted to each other because of them. They discovered new things about themselves. Some characteristics they liked about themselves, at the same time they were motivated to change poor habits. Love has a way of pushing you toward your best self.

When she was in the room, she was the only person he noticed. When he left the room, she sat and stared at the exit he had gone out and waited for his return. When he returned she giggled with delight and ran to hug him. Such was the comfort and spontaneity of their love.

Her dreams were coming true.They were young and innocent and determined not to have secrets from each other so they spent hours on Facebook or texting. Within a very short time, they were very familiar with each other. Their vulnerability was refreshing to those around them. Now here they were 3 months later planning a fun time on this special day on the calendar.

Love is not rational. They knew they were setting themselves up for pain, but every minute of risk was worth it.

John 15:13 The Voice  There is no greater way to love than to give your life for your friends.

It doesn’t make any sense that God would send His son to live on this earth. It seems like a radical move to get our attention.

Jesus is not a teenage boy, but He wants a relationship with you. He wants to spend every minute with you. He always has you on his mind. He is always looking for ways to surprise you with his love. He will never force himself on you, but waits gently for you to invite Him into your plans. He understands that you have bruises and scars and He wants to bring healing to your hurt. He is jealous when you chose to give your affections to another and rejoices when you return to Him. He knows everything about you and loves it when you to tell Him all the details of your life. He longs for you to know Him and to want to spend time with Him.

Valentines Day is a reminder of the gift of love. Jesus is the perfect Valentine. His love never fails. He always believes in you. He is will never leave you.

I pray that you will experience His extreme love for you today. Happy Valentines Day.


Two years ago I wrote a post about my broken breadmaker. I called it Sometimes you throw it out, sometimes you fix it. Unknown-1

It had the most views of all the posts I have made so I decided to go back to it and do some editing on it. I had written about how my breadmaker let me down and I carried it to the garage. Then I reflected on the relationship I had had with my breadmaker. I transitioned in to how I treat my human relationships the same as I do my material possessions especially the toxic ones. I am embarrassed to admit that I do that – as if people are disposable. I am also proud to confess that I am more aware of my actions and have grown in that area.

After spending hours of how to rewrite that post, I realize that I do not believe you can compare human relationships to a kitchen appliance. I can not redo that post or add anything to that. My life has a new focus.

UnknownI still don’t like getting hurt but I am aware that when I feel injured by others actions that it comes from a place of emptiness for them. I believe that everyone has a story and that their story makes our world a better place. Unfortunately, some of the best stories are created out of pain. Where a person has their focus is the place that directs the path of pain. If the focus is on Jesus, He can create miracles in the pain. If the focus is on the pain itself, everyone is miserable.

Out of my pain over the past few years, my eyes have been opened to a whole new world. I used to believe that people can never change. I thought there was nothing I could do if they wanted to be miserable.  I now believe that if a person refocuses their vision anything is possible. I, also, believe I can play a part in helping them refocus through being a vessel of God’s love.

A few years ago wearing the  WWJD bracelet was popular. What would Jesus do? Those four words can redirect my focus almost instantaneously.

I am beginning to recognize my flawed beliefs. It is not my place to change people. The Holy Spirit will do that.

2 Corinthians 5:17 (ASV)Wherefore if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature: the old things are passed away; behold, they are become new.

It is my place to focus on Jesus and to allow His life to flow through me to others.

UnknownWhen I am not wearing my corrective lenses and I  start cleaning the house, I am bound to do surface cleaning. Later when I put my contacts in, I see clearly how I have missed certain spaces in each room.

In the same way I need to keep my focus on Jesus so that I can see clearly through the lens of His love.

I have walked this journey with Jesus long enough to know that if I keep my eyes on Him, He will lead me to the areas of my life that need cleaning. And He will place the right people into my life that will make that happen. Some of them will be pleasant to be with and others will be a challenge. I heard recently that nothing changes in the comfort zone. I want to allow God to be in control and guide me on the way. Even if it is uncomfortable. As I journey on the path of  life, I want to have the courage to have renewed focus and see every situation through the lens of God’s love.

Psalm 119:105 (MSG) By your words I can see where I’m going;they throw a beam of light on my dark path.