When the World Turns
This morning I woke up with a terrible case of vertigo. After having a rough weekend battling pain from my fibromyalgia, I was hoping to start the week feeling better and ready to tackle my growing to-do list. But, alas, such was not the case.
Instead, I lay in bed trying to get my world to stop spinning. Every time I shifted my head even slightly, the room whirled around me like I was trapped on some cruel amusement park ride. Tess could sense something was wrong and snuggled up closely as if to reassure me with her steady presence.
"So, I guess it's just going to be one of those days!" I mumbled, closing my eyes against the dizziness.
Have you ever felt that way? Not necessarily dealing with vertigo, but with the sensation that your entire life is spinning out of control?
Abiding in Christ
I've always been fascinated by Jesus' words in John 15:5: "I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing."
What does it truly mean to abide in Christ? It's far more than religious activity or spiritual box-ticking. Abiding is about maintaining a constant connection with Jesus, like a branch naturally draws life from the vine.
Think about it: branches don't strain to produce fruit. They simply stay connected to their life source. The branch doesn't wake up each morning with a to-do list: "Must make three grapes by noon!" No, fruit emerges organically when the branch remains attached to the vine.
Similarly, our spiritual fruit—love, joy, peace, patience, etc.—isn't manufactured through human effort.
Finding Hope in Our Weakness
One of my favorite parts of the story of David is the cave of Adullam. I don't know why, but I've always been drawn to a place that became a refuge for the broken and distraught. So, naturally, I found a way to work it into my newest novel, Hope Reset. Here's a short excerpt from that chapter:
The merchant's arrival was just the beginning. More came in the following days. A farmer, his calloused hands empty of the crops Saul's men had seized. Three brothers, their eyes hollow with shame, fleeing debts they couldn't pay. Each carried a story of desperation, of having nowhere else to turn. Some had heard rumors in taverns, others from travelers on the road. All spoke of David's reputation for justice and mercy.
"In distress," Jesus spoke softly to Merlin. "In debt. In bitterness of soul. Watch how they come to him."
Finding Bugs Bunny in a Broken World
The other day, I was browsing YouTube, searching for videos to help me learn about one of the latest software updates in the writing world. Because I'd been searching the topic a lot lately, many related videos were popping up. But it wasn't the educational content that ultimately captured my attention. No, it was an hour-long compilation of Looney Tunes.
Yes, the original Looney Tunes that I grew up on. Those classic cartoons featuring Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Elmer Fudd, and the whole gang. Despite my busy schedule and the educational videos I had previously been searching for, I decided to indulge in "just a few minutes" of nostalgic animation.
Those few minutes quickly turned into half an hour as I sat at my desk, giggling like a schoolgirl. There was Bugs, munching his carrot and delivering his iconic "What's up, Doc?"
When Plans Go Pear-Shaped
Have you ever had one of those days where Murphy's Law isn't just a saying but your personal reality? Jason and I experienced that miserable phenomenon this week. It began with my writing. Every task I attempted was met with utter frustration. What should have taken a couple of minutes ended up taking over an hour. It seemed like no matter which way I turned, I encountered a stumbling block or a brick wall. Seriously?
When we finally surrendered to the technological gremlins and decided to take our daily walk with Tess, the Welsh weather joined the conspiracy. The moment we stepped outside, the clouds unleashed what felt like the entire Irish Sea upon our heads. Lovely!
"It's just a light drizzle," Jason said optimistically as we trudged along, our clothes growing heavier with each step. By the time we made it home, we resembled three drowned rats (though Tess, admittedly, looked the most pitiful).