The coffee mug slipped from her hands and shattered across the kitchen floor. Debbi stared at the brokenness scattered around her feet — a perfect picture of her life: everything was in pieces. She allowed the tears to come. It wasn’t about the mug; it felt like it was everything, all at once. The argument with her husband that morning. The mounting bills on the counter. Her mother’s declining health. The kids’ constant needs. The church commitments she’d said yes to when she should have said no. Her relationship with her best friend which now felt strained and broken.
“Annie, I’m really concerned about your dad’s low oxygen levels and his worsening, deep cough. At his age, there’s a real danger with pneumonia — something you want to get on top of quickly. And his heart failure is a delicate complication. My strong recommendation is that you take him in to the emergency room.”
“Annie, I’m really concerned about your dad’s low oxygen levels and his worsening, deep cough. At his age, there’s a real danger with pneumonia — something you want to get on top of quickly. And his heart failure is a delicate complication. My strong recommendation is that you take him in to the emergency room.”

My Decision-Maker
Looking down at the caller ID, I briefly held my breath before answering my phone. It was the doctor following up on our communications about Dad’s symptoms over the last few days.
“Annie, I’m really concerned about your dad’s low oxygen levels and his worsening, deep cough. At his age, there’s a real danger with pneumonia — something you want to get on top of quickly. And his heart failure is a delicate complication. My strong recommendation is that you take him in to the emergency room.”
The Cry of Faith
Imagine for a moment that you’re in a workout class. You probably know the feeling — a hot room, a big whiteboard listing every brutal exercise you’re about to endure, and maybe a group of people beside you, sweating it out on the same journey. The intensity is high. Your strength is fading with each passing rep. You feel like you’ve given it all you’ve got, and you’re ready to call it quits and head home for the day.
The Soul’s Bootcamp
It was a beautiful, early morning in June and the cheerful sounds of my one year old thump-thumping down the stairs caused me to cease my vain attempts at getting just a little more sleep. I would say I sat up and swung my feet over the edge of the bed, but the process of sitting up was arduous — I was seven months pregnant with twins, and the adjectives “slow” and “painful” applied to nearly every movement.
I’m With Jesus
Raucous laughter and pulsating music resounded through the crowded, chaotic street. Eric tried to keep his fellow missionaries in sight as hundreds of drunken revelers surged around them on all sides. Eric (who later became my husband) was 23, and this was one of his first missionary assignments — doing street evangelism on Bourbon Street in New Orleans during Mardi Gras — and he was not at all comfortable being there.
Learning Obedience
My dad was uncharacteristically quiet, and it worried me. He sat on a bench in his room staring down at his legs with a wearied, almost defeated expression on his face. We’d been dealing with large, open wounds from weeping edema (signs of his progressing congestive heart failure) that extended from both his ankles to his knees, and the healing process was painfully slow.





