“Battered” 11x14 oil 2026 Yesterday, we sat on the living room floor with our grandson James, laughing as he played, watching his little mind connect one discovery to the next. For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. We were that younger couple again—full of energy, lighthearted, at ease in our bodies. And then we had to get up. What once was effortless now requires intention. Stiffness had set in. Pain followed. And in that small, ordinary moment, I felt it—the real

Some mornings don’t begin with light… but with the slow remembering that it still exists. Joy Beneath Sorrow A grateful heart rises and wrestles my grief to the ground, slaying the dragon of despair. My weary soul awakens as joy, long hidden beneath sorrow finds its way into the light. My eyes open to the goodness God has scattered throughout my life, and a smile returns to my lips. Peace begins to settle… into the tender places of my heart, long numbed by suffering.

This is a prayer for the long nights when hope feels thin and the house grows very quiet. My soul feels dry, my hands ache from caring, my heart carries him in every beat. The house is quiet now. Bandages folded and ready. Texted prayers read. Well-wishers gone and lights dimmed for the night. But You remain. You are still here. You were here for every doctor’s visit—here when hope lifted and when it quietly fell. You see the wound that will not heal. You see the skin trying

There are seasons when good intentions quietly unravel, when the goals we set with hope and confidence begin to feel heavier than inspiring. We don’t always notice when it happens—only that somewhere along the way, resolve thins and uncertainty takes its place. Maybe you’ve felt it too. That subtle inner hesitation that asks, What if I can’t? What if I’m not enough? Doubt doesn’t usually shout—it whispers. And sometimes those whispers are enough to stall a dream, silence a c