by Emily P Freeman | Apr 22, 2011 | breathe
The gray, evening light spills down the back of my Goodwill chair. It has rained all day, Good Friday. The kids and I drove two hours slow from my parents house today. So many times we’ve made that trip. So many times we’ve come home safe again. The Man...
by Emily P Freeman | Apr 22, 2011 | breathe
Even though I’m a few days behind, I pick up Jesus Calling and smile when I see those first three words. They can be worn out and overused, tossed around cheap. But not here, not this. The God who whispered and out came the world, the God who breathed and out...
by Emily P Freeman | Apr 21, 2011 | breathe
And in the evening, you look around and see home all over the place. The fruit bowl half-full on the quiet table, the bike left out in the yard, the quilt on your guest room bed, the mirror with you staring back. Your reflection hasn’t always felt like home, but...
by Emily P Freeman | Apr 21, 2011 | breathe
When it seems the morning forgot to bring your dose of new mercies and instead shows up rude with no more coffee in the bag, love becomes a more difficult choice. It still counts when it’s easy, but it means more when it’s hard. Some mornings are like...
by Emily P Freeman | Apr 20, 2011 | breathe
Pause by the window. Drink the cool water. Sort the mail that came right to your door. He may not have said what you wished he would have, but even after the words and the snippy, he still comes to the table, rocks with the babies, loves. The well-laid plans may have...
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