The Hinge Of Becoming

06/10/2026

Help me, Lord, to walk in Your will.

Not far from it.
Not merely close to it.
But in it.

Let me live in it each day.

Forgive me for trying to manage everything myself.
Forgive me for over-thinking.
Forgive me for worrying. Forgive me for the times I run ahead of You instead of walking beside You.

Thank You for the moments when I can stop, be still, and meditate on these things.

For I know, that I know, that I know, that You are working all things together for my good.

Help me lay every fear at Your feet.
Teach me to fear only You and not the opinions, reactions, or actions of people.

Guide me toward the things that nourish my spirit, strengthen my faith, and draw me ever closer to You.

Help me trust You more.
Help me surrender more.
Help me recognize Your hand at work, even when I cannot yet see the outcome.

In Jesus' name I pray,

Amen.

06/08/2026

At a campfire, not everyone arrives for the same reason.

Some come seeking warmth.

Some come carrying logs to build or maintain the flames.

Neither role is wrong.

In fact, both are needed.

For most of my life, I thought love looked a lot like carrying logs.

Sharing stories.

Giving hugs.

Checking in.

Bringing pieces of my day home and placing them on the table.

"Look what happened today."

"Can you believe this?"

"Let me tell you about it."

To me, that was love.

It was tending the fire.

What I didn't understand then is that not everyone experiences love the same way.

Some people spend their lives sitting close enough to enjoy the warmth, but never quite close enough to tend the flames.

Not because they don't care.

Not because they are selfish.

Sometimes they simply never learned how.

Sometimes they are still learning that it is safe to move closer.

I used to think everyone should carry logs.

Then I remembered my father.

My mother would try to hug him and he'd push her away.

The closest she had gotten was helping him on with his scarf in winter and stealing a kiss on his cheek.

Affection was not exactly his native language.

After my mother passed away, he married a taller, stronger woman who apparently never received the memo...🤣😂

My Dad: "I don't do hugs."

Her: "That's just too bad."

Roughly grabbed him and
hugged him.

Dad: "I'm serious."

Her: "I brought pie."

Another hug.

My Dad: "People need personal space."

Her: "Not today."

Hug.

Over time, something remarkable happened.

The man who spent years stepping away from affection stopped stepping away.

He softened.

Not all at once.

Not dramatically.

Just a little at a time.

Then one day I looked up and there he was, sitting among her children and grandchildren, soaking up love like sunshine.

What a beautiful thing it was to witness.

He hadn't become a different man.

He had simply moved closer to the fire.

Maybe that's why I look differently at people now.

I think about those who carry armloads of logs.

I think about those who quietly sit near the warmth.

And I think about the people still learning that they are welcome at the fire.

Some of us express love by giving.

Some of us express love by being present.

And some of us are learning how to receive.

The truth is, a healthy fire needs all three.

Someone has to bring the wood.

Someone has to stay and share the warmth.

And everyone deserves the chance to discover that it is safe to move a little closer.

I hope God continues drawing our hearts toward the fire.

Toward giving.

Toward presence.

Toward receiving.

Because love is most beautiful when all three are gathered around the same flame.

06/07/2026

06/07/2026

As I wondered
when you might lower
the wall between us,

I asked myself,

"When are you going to
lower yours?"

Fear answered with a question.

"Is it safe?"

Wisdom answered,

"Nothing is certain.

Tomorrow isn't written
in stone."

I thought about it.

Nothing was ever settled
behind a wall.

People send spies
to sneak around it.

War tries to tear it down
by force.

Then I realized

I can't build a future

while living behind
old offenses.

If I am stepping into a new light,

I need to leave some things behind.

I need to forgive.

I need to let others
step into their new light also.

And when they do,

welcome them in.

I am not perfect.

Every pot and pan in my soul may still be clanging.

But at some point,

I will surrender.

Not my wisdom.

Not my discernment.

Not the lessons I have learned.

Only the walls
that no longer serve a purpose.

06/07/2026

Sometimes we believe because it is easier than

searching for the truth.

It is easier to believe that our own fears, mistakes,
and shortcomings

disqualify us from being loved, used by God, or worthy of another chance.

It is easier to believe that someone with a title,
position, degree, or accomplishment

must be wise, must be trustworthy, or must be right.

Titles can tell us what someone does.

They cannot tell us who someone is.

A title does not replace character.

An accomplishment does not replace integrity.

A position does not place someone above accountability.

Do not place yourself beneath someone because of a title.

Do not place someone above accountability because of a title.

Yet we continually search for hierarchy.

Perhaps that is one of our human weaknesses.

We long for shortcuts.

We long for certainty.

We long for someone to tell us who matters more.

But truth asks more of us.

We all bleed.

We all stumble.

We all need grace.

The cross devours hierarchy.

Before it,
we are all equal
and in need of grace.

The only perfect One is God.