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Monthly Archives: March 2011

God’s faithfulness, love and sovereignty are beyond my comprehension.  For instance, I was amidst a situation, He timingly met me through my aunt who is miles away by physical distance but very dear and close to my heart with the following excerpt from a hymn:  “My hope is built on nothing less, Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness…”

I thank God for He promises and keeps!


…yes, through it all, I stand on His Word! He never fails.  He has never failed me and will never fail me.  Through it all, God is faithful and I give Him my heart over and over again.  He is my hope, my strength and my song even through the darkest hour.  I pray for His perfect will to continue to be done in His perfect timing.  I give Him my concerns…my tomorrows.  I praise Him for continuing to use worshippers such as Don Moen and Terry Clark to encourage me to sing to Him with all that I am–falling on my face, on my knees in awe of who He continues to be to me moment by moment!

Isaiah 43 – I do believe that God makes ways where there seems to be no way!

God is so good and I thank Him for every breath as well as every moment spent with my husband and son! Thank You Jesus!!

I enjoyed this excerpt from by Kimberly Campbell:

“In the first year of my son’s life, I made exactly four entries in the journal.
Watch him while he slept? Ha! Those precious moments were reserved for
showering, napping, and e-mailing baby pictures. When he was awake, I wanted to
hold him, not a pen. By the end of the day, I was too tired to write, even if I
could find the journal under the mountains of toys, laundry, unopened mail, tiny
socks, and dirty dishes. But I tried to mark the milestones — the ones that
wouldn’t be covered in his baby book or the family photo album: the first time
he smiled just for me, the first time I managed to tie the damn swaddling
blanket correctly, the first time he made a noise that sounded a little bit like
a word. The sixty-seventh time I fell asleep sitting up with the journal in my
lap, its crisp, white pages spread out before me like a freshly made bed. The
journal may be half-empty, but my heart is one hundred percent full. Some things
you just can’t put on paper.”