Slice Of Bread

This is the most personal post I have written. It deals with something I have struggled the most with, relying on someone else's faith. I am very blessed to have an amazing and Godly upbringing. My childhood was filled with church, prayer, God and miracles. I was saved, believed in the power of God, prayed and read my bible regularly. I relied on the teachings of my parents and grandparents to guide me and help me make decisions. I highly depended on their faith as my own. As a child this isn’t a bad thing. We need constant guidance and teaching to mold us into the people God has called us to be. But, there comes a time when we have to branch away from our reliance on the faith of our mentors and become who we are in Christ. 2Timothy 3:14-17 But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of, because you know those from whom you learned it, 15 and how from infancy you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make...

Deuteronomy 4:29 “But if from there you seek the Lord your God, you will find him if you seek him with all your heart and with all your soul.” Recently I went to the doctor’s office for a checkup. When I entered the room, I sat on the bed causing the sheet of paper that runs down the middle to crinkle and wrinkle underneath my weight; same as always. It didn’t take long for me to notice something different though, an addition to the room that had never been there before. It sounded like water rushing and crashing and I swear I heard a sea gull. I thought I had either lost my mind or I was having some serious beach withdrawals.   After some investigating I located a sound machine on the other side of the room that was producing artificial beach noises. I wasn’t crazy, this time. It just so happened that my husband was taking me to the beach that following weekend, so I sat there and listened to the repetitive sea gull call and prepared myself for the amazing vac...

  Read:  Acts 2           When I was little, my grandparents would come spend the weekends with us and we would do all kinds of fun things. We would have campouts where we built a fire and roasted marshmallows and hotdogs. We would go on bike rides and hikes. We would plant gardens and dig up trees in the woods and replant them in the yard to create our “orchard”.   My mawmaw is a story teller to her core, so everything we did was an adventure of wonder and amusement. The part of their visits I loved the most though, were the early mornings when I would wake up and crawl in bed with my mawmaw and ask her, “Please tell me a story.” She would pick out one of her hundreds of stories to tell and would transport us from our little room, in her cabin on my family’s Mississippi ranch to a rural cotton farm in the 1930s, in the northern hills of Mississippi. I loved to hear stories of her childhood and the way it was back then. She w...