My shells represent us—broken people. Often discarded as ugly, useless, and therefore unwanted, God showed me their beauty.

I’m essentially nobody, but when my name appears with one of my essays in a book. I’m overjoyed that my name appears alongside some incredibly gifted authors. It feels good, but I hardly feel worthy to have my name printed inside because I’m serving God by following His call on my life.

. It's as if we are in junior high again but of the older adult variety. We aren't old, but we aren't young either. Our bodies go haywire when adjusting between childbearing years and becoming "elderly." What do we do now?

As the holiday season approaches, we battle through the grocery to snag the ingredients for our Thanksgiving feasts. Ruminating in the backs of our minds:

If Jesus could give me grace, then I realize I should extend grace to myself.