Tag Archives: joy

Pondering With a Coloring Book 2

So yesterday I posted about how unhappy I was with my color choices as I started a new page in Lisa Joy Samson’s Colors of Hope (on sale today on CBD). I mentioned that as I colored the  Lord revealed to me  thoughts about being creative and brave and willing to try new things in life.

Following is what I pondered as I continued coloring that particular page:

I’m still not done with this coloring page or its accompanying verse (When you call out to me and come to me and pray to me, I’ll hear you), but I gotta say, I’m loving how this is coming together–even the yellow and blue I didn’t like at first.

Today three things went through my head as I colored and chatted with Jesus. The first was simply joy. I think the happy colors brought that out! I worshiped, with little praise songs freely bouncing around in my head. I wanted to celebrate His creativity, love, power, and beauty. This mixed with the ponderings I posted yesterday led me to think about what it looks like to be a follower who surrenders fully, like Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, without forgetting that life has other gardens, too. Beautiful Eden gardens where we enjoy bounty and beauty and walk in intimacy with our creator.

I want to understand how to live as one who walks in surrender when called to hardship or a season of sacrifice–or even to live without getting angry at God when life sends me a curve ball.

AND I want to be a joyful woman who is adventurous and lifts her face to the breeze. Free. Focused on the glory of the life God desires for us. Believing in His goodness.

The second line of thought was about perspective. As I worked around the edges of my coloring page, I saw previous work differently. I was able to see little flaws I hadn’t noticed and fix them. They didn’t bother me. At this stage of the process I was far enough along to simply handle them. No stress. And as more spaces were colored I started getting a sense of the joy of the whole picture and how it fit together, not just the unfinished parts that made no sense at first. I don’t think I have to explain either of the metaphors popping out there!

20170311_082302

The third pondering was simple joy in God’s provision for play and refreshment as I color. In this season of my son’s upcoming wedding, my other son’s graduation, and my efforts to meet a May 1st book deadline, I’m incredibly grateful to the Lord for leading me to play through this devotional coloring book. What delight to see the happy colors, to be creative without need for perfection or plan, to just hang out with him.

The last many years He’s often pulled me out of my more serious approach to time with just the two of us. I’m learning to rest in His wisdom in leading our relationship. There are seasons for all kinds of relating with the Lord, and I love the deeper study times as well as the intensive prayer and journaling times, but He knows I can be too serious, too responsible, so He pulls me out for long walks or gives me a coloring book and asks me just to be in His presence.

To chat or not.

To play.

Isn’t our God good?!

I hope you’ve enjoyed this three blog series about the joys of coloring and the things Lisa and I learned while interacting with Colors of Hope. Next week I’ll be talking about navigating empty nest as I interview Vicki Caruana, who wrote, “The Joy of Letting Go.” This book releases April 1, no foolin’! Receiving an advanced copy of her book in the mail the week my oldest son married his beautiful bride was quite timely. (I hope to also blog about the wedding soon. It was a glorious day full of joy and peace! There is joy in letting go. 😉 )

Until Tomorrow,

paula-another-test-401x192-2 - Copy

PS If you’re interested in hearing more about my journey out of the “quiet time” box of my past and into more freedom to be playful with the LORD, you can read about it at the end of my book, Soul Scents: Bloom, available now on Amazon.

Advertisements

Marriage Reflections

20140704_205157-1No disrespect intended to those couples who say the best years of marriage were when they had nothing but love, staring into each others eyes in that first, tiny apartment, only peanut butter and jelly in the cupboard, but as I celebrate 26 years of marriage I’m thinkin’ the best years are yet to come.

After all, as love grows so does joy. And if those bare cabinet days don’t separate, they bind. Tight.

Reflections are strange sometimes. There is much good to celebrate today–and I do–but I find my musings today have taken an unexpected twist.

I’m thinking of what we DIDN’T do instead of what we did.

In those years of lack and hardship we didn’t blame each other.

When one of us struggled–with life, faith, forward movement–we didn’t give up on each other.

When people came against us, throwing conflict and discontent into relationships we didn’t allow them to divide us.

When grief sometimes silenced one of us, even immobilized for a time, we didn’t push each other to get over it.

When there were problems we didn’t ignore them. We also didn’t rush the fixing process.

When one of us succeeded we didn’t get jealous.

When life grew hard we didn’t look for greener pastures.

When opportunities came for a spouse we didn’t hold them back. We also didn’t let opportunities rob us of our priorities for each other and the children.

We didn’t compare our jobs or roles or claim we worked harder than the other.

We didn’t expect the other person to be our only person. We also didn’t expect love to grow between us without giving it a lot of attention.

We didn’t assume the other person made hurtful choices out of a desire to hurt.

We didn’t set unrealistic expectations of each other.

We didn’t do any of the above perfectly. And, perhaps most important, we didn’t expect each other to.

Early on my sweet Jerry taught me the value of trusting each other’s heart. When I was (much) less than perfect in my efforts to love him, or when I struggled with choices he often told me, “Honey, I trust your heart.”

Over the years I learned that if we had that core belief–that the other person always, at the heart level, wanted the best, we could weather a lot of stuff. Mistakes became simply mistakes instead of a premeditated attempt to wound. Conversations became about understanding perspective instead of assuming conflict and duking it out.

I (eventually) discovered that I often let my anger grow toward my husband not because I was truly upset but because once I got hurt I imagined what he was thinking or feeling toward me. As I made assumptions my anger and self-justification escalated. Soon a full-blown battle was raging inside of my head. When I learned to ask Jerry if he was actually thinking those things his look of shock taught me that I could imagine far more conflict and condemnation than he came up with on his own.

So, as I grew, I didn’t make assumptions about what he thought or felt. Instead, I trusted his heart and asked questions to clarify.

We’ve weathered a lot of stuff, my man and me. We’ve seen more joy than any couple edit j adn p 1 (2)deserves, and we’ve had more disappointment and pain than we ever wanted to experience or would invite again. But when I think back to early days I don’t long for something we’ve lost. What we had then has only grown and reshaped itself, not disappeared.

I’m sure there are things we DID do that helped our love mature, but I can’t help but believe it was the things we didn’t do that kept our marriage from self-sabotage.

And so it is maybe largely in part to the “didn’ts” that I can’t wait for the next year of marriage and the next and the next. I think since we didn’t give into blame on those empty cupboard days (and I’m not just talking finances here) that as our days are rich they will be richer. We won’t take the good for granted because we know the bad. And (I hope) we won’t let the bad send us as quickly to despair because we have walked hard days and come out on the other side together. Stronger.

One.

So it is with great gratitude I celebrate 26 years of NOT doing and wait in eager anticipation for the love and joy to come.

Finding Joy in the Pouring Rain

For many years I prayed for joy. What seemed to happen in response to those prayers was hardship upon hardship. But looking back I think I learned some of the same truths in this blog, especially the part about intentionally cultivating a capacity for joy. I believe you’ll appreciate these thoughts as much as I did.

The following is a guest blog written by Laura Padgett on Livin’ What You’re Given

FINDING JOY IN THE POURING PAIN

Praying for answers

Was Pastor Ashley out of her mind? How could she say that we can have joy no matter what the circumstances surrounding us? Wasn’t I sitting in this chair just a few weeks after a car accident that left me with two swollen, bruised kneecaps and five displaced ribs? Wasn’t I cringing under a load of guilt behind the fact that it was my fault? I totaled two cars, hurt another driver and if my knees could bend, I would be attempting to kick my own rear end. Bring on the joy.

Hadn’t I just received news of a devastating tragedy that befell a family I adore? Hadn’t I just been made aware, again, of a family relationship that no matter what I do will never be healed to the point of reunion? How do you find joy in the face of stories about one family member being seriously mistreated at the hands of another? Right, let’s join in the happy dance.

But there stood my pastor saying it really is possible to have joy no matter what trials we are facing and what questions loom over us. I love my pastor and never leave one of her messages without a nugget of truth and comfort. That day I chose to rage against the stubborn silence that fell like an impermeable granite wall in front of my questions.

I spent the next several mornings on my back porch meditating and watching it rain. It seemed to me it was going to rain forever.  Worse, yet, it seemed like it had been raining forever. I wondered if we would be in for a dreary season from April until November. There was another question. There was more silence.

One particularly wet and bleak morning, I stared into the faces of my twin enemies -anger and confusion. They were collaborating to mask the deep pain gnawing at me and the authentic feelings that could set me free if I would allow them out from behind the silent screaming. I couldn’t believe all this had happened within a month. I fought, I reasoned, and I demanded answers. All that came was the flood of water from clouds that mirrored darkness in the depths of my despair.

I realized verbal fighting was not working. So, I chose to throw myself onto a couch and beat my fists into pillows as if I could extract a truth that would take away the grief, guilt and helplessness. My ribs groaned, and my knees sent sharp, protesting throbs all the way to my toes. Finally, out of physical and mental exhaustion, I plummeted downward into a place I feared would be my emotional home for many days. I made a conscious decision to submit, lay down the tools of battle, and let go. It continued to rain. I continued to pour my heart out to God. Was Pastor Ashley out of her mind?

Then I heard it. It was faint at first but grew louder as my sobs subsided. It was the song of children at play in the neighbor’s backyard. I pulled my tear-soaked, limping self to the patio door and opened it to determine if my ears were playing tricks on me.

How could the wee ones be playing, laughing and even squabbling on this dark day? Didn’t they know that many worlds had been rocked by unspeakable sadness? Didn’t they know my heart was breaking for all that was broken in my world and the worlds of many I love? Didn’t they know it was cold and raining?

No, they knew nothing of the events or weather patterns. All they knew was they were going to live and laugh today, no matter what nature or the world presented. In their pure child wisdom they rejected the preset template of a day defined by externals.

I stepped outside and stood in the rain, listening to their little squeals, as I looked over the hedge separating our yards. I saw them jumping in puddles and delighting in this, even this – a downpour of chilly water. They danced in pools among patches of grass made green by relentless moisture.

The joyful chorus of song and dance was joined by robins flitting around them. No doubt the robins were looking for food. The gorgeous little birds took time to lend voices to the symphony of a fresh day. I smiled, breathed in the smell of clean air and thanked God for the laughter of children. I thanked Him for the robins and rain. I walked closer to the fence, “Hi Miss Laura,” they called in unison between giggles. I blew a kiss to two of my favorite wee people.

It wasn’t long before the guilt came back. How could I allow myself to be drafted into their little world? I should not feel joy on any level at this time. It wasn’t time yet. No I should not find joy right now.

But I did. For a brief moment my heart lifted, I saw parting of mental clouds, if not physical ones. And I remembered a quote I had heard by Berne Brown, “Joy is a spiritual discipline.” New questions surfaced. How does one get their joy back? What does it mean to be disciplined? Was my heart so heavy because I am undisciplined, unintelligent, and unable to make sense of a world that can be senseless?

“You want some lunch? Honey, please come in now. It’s cold and you’re dressed like it’s 85 degrees. Please come in now,” my husband called from inside the patio doors.

“In a minute,” I answered, not wanting to leave this moment just yet. There were still questions and guilt to deal with. I thought maybe, just maybe, answers were in the sights, sounds and smells of this early May scene playing out before and around me. I opened my right hand, allowing rain drops to hit my palm and stared at each while praying one drop would hold a key to unlock the door to my prison of pain. I was not willing to trade my miniscule slice of peace for a retro reach into the past several weeks of hell on earth.

When I did come in, I ate in silence. I was soaking wet and Keith cast a worried eye over me all through lunch as he attempted to make small talk.

After lunch, I went to my special prayer room where I could be alone, in my secret space, with God. As I started my little water fountain and lit a candle, I heard a small voice say, “Joy is a spiritual discipline. Like all things it takes practice, patience and persistence.”

I blew out the match, dropped my head and said, “Okay, Lord. I get it.” I finally heard what Berne Brown and Pastor Ashley were trying to tell me. The discipline is not in owning joy but in intentionally seeking it. It is in the awareness of children’s voices, new spring growth, tiny birds, and even the cleansing heavenly waters. It is in looking for, enjoying and not allowing guilt to overshadow the joys of this day we are given to live.

The work of finding joy is sometimes found while standing in pain with others while waiting and believing there will be a sliver of sunlight through the blinding darkness. The hard work of spiritual discipline is found in an obedient posture of seeking but not demanding answers. Finding joy is about resting in the one who has the answers, and still trusting Him when the answers are never revealed.

I resolved to not dishonor myself by shoving aside questions and grief under a pillow of anger. Instead I chose to allow time needed to process that which may not ever be processed thoroughly. I openly gave myself permission to heal. And I resolved to find the laughter, singing birds and love that are all around if I practice the discipline of active pursuit, even in the darkest days.

When I turned off the fountain, blew out the candle and returned to a day that held a long to-do list, I came away with a new belief. Eventually the joyful moments will stay longer and crowd out, or minimize, the moments where hopelessness and helplessness reign supreme.

I moved slowly (very slowly) out of my special space, kissed my concerned husband and said, “Maybe Pastor Ashley isn’t out of her mind after all.”

A Momma’s Heart for Her Graduate

1As a little boy you told me, “I’ll always want you to hug me, Mom.” You were frustrated because your big brother had just said I hugged him too much. Not only were you concerned my feelings had been hurt, but you couldn’t imagine not wanting hugs.

I said I wouldn’t hold you to the promise once you were 11 or 13. But you never changed. That sweet little boy who loved his momma’s hugs let me hug him through those insecure preteen years. Even in front of friends you’d hug me good-bye. You were never too cool for love.

Recently as you watched (and grieved) your older siblings leave the nest, you promised to hug me at least once a day. It was your remedy for my tears, I think. And you’ve kept your word. You’ve always been good at loving, Sam–and letting others love you, too. Some people have to learn to love, to say kind words, to hug, to lovingly tease, but not you. You make loving look easy.

20140718_165152Your faith, too, seems as natural to you as breathing. I’m sure during the hard times you were like anyone else, questioning the pain. Two hip surgeries and the struggle to return to your passion as an athlete tested it for sure, as did the times money was tight, and we didn’t know how to give you what you needed. But I don’t remember you having deep questions or anger. Mostly I remember you speaking faith to me when I struggled with my own. Fear would close in on me. I’d wrestle with God, reminding Him of the needs I couldn’t meet. Then you’d waltz in with your natural smile, put your arm around me, and say, “Don’t worry, Mom. God has this.” It makes me grin to remember the twinkle in your eye when God would solve the problem, and you’d say, “I told you everything would be okay.”

It’s delightful to see you hit a home run, write a creative story, or earn academic awards, but it’s your passion for God and people, your faith, your love, that bring me the most joy. Your favorite time of the week is volunteering in kids’ ministry at church. I love that you’re considering this as a career. I love that you chose to raise money to go on a mission’s trip this summer. I can’t wait to hear all about everything God does in and through you.11083920_10153255545128179_7517803830470359130_n

This year you have truly stepped into a new place, successfully completing two semesters at college while still in high school, working an insane amount of hours at your new job, and keeping up with a demanding varsity baseball schedule. I worried and fussed about all the demands upon you, but I shouldn’t have. You handled it. There were times you were exhausted. I wanted you to quit work or at least ask for time off, but you persevered, building a savings account and enjoying paying your own way. Just another part of manhood you’re stepping into. I’m proud of you. Of your perseverance, hard work, and determination.

As I prayed about this special day, this day when you are honored as a high school graduate, I asked the Lord what 10He saw. My pen flowed across journal pages thinking about how you bring such joy and love into this world. How you notice beauty. Offering uplifting words. (It’s a good thing you also have your daddy’s ornery streak and quick humor to help balance all that sweetness!) Love making people happy. I felt like the Lord told me to let you love life and help other love it and not impose upon you my hyper-active need to work and succeed. That you would be one of the lucky ones who could be productive without having to first get stressed out. That’s pretty cool. He also reminded me that you are becoming a wonderful communicator. I can’t wait to see where that goes.

Then He brought three men from the Bible to mind, all communicators. The first is your namesake, Samuel. Like Samuel you have been learning to discern God’s Voice from a young age, and like Samuel God will increasingly speak to you, and you will be able to share hope and wisdom with others as you listen to what God says and speak when He nudges you to speak.

The second one who came to mind was King David. Like you, he was a worshiper. He was passionate about God and God’s people. He noticed and celebrated beauty. He was creative. Somehow David was a fierce and manly warrior while maintaining a tender heart that produced the Psalms, some of the most beautiful poetry ever written. You have a heart like David, and the Lord is making you a strong, mighty man while protecting that heart that bring Him and others such joy.

The last name I wrote in my journal was Paul, again your namesake. Paul was passionate about God’s grace. His understanding of grace continues to affect how we see God and ourselves over 2,000 years later. Though one of the most powerful leaders of the new church, Paul struggled with a weakness. He asked God three times to simply take it away, but God told him to look to Him, that His grace would be sufficient for him. Like Paul you are passionate about grace. You long to see yourself as God sees you and to help others see themselves the way God sees them. Like Paul you have weakness (don’t we all?), and God said this was okay, that your struggles help you look to Him and rely upon Him in ways you wouldn’t without them.

As I finished my prayer time yesterday I felt the Lord remind me that David was the youngest of his brothers. As the youngest I know you sometimes struggled to find your own place. You had three awesome older siblings you looked up to. You wanted to excel as each of them had. In life. In character. It had to be hard sometimes to forge your own path. You loved them so much and wanted to be yourself even as you wanted to be like them. But you have succeeded, my son. You have stepped into manhood uniquely you even as you share many of the same traits I love about Samuel Moldenhauerthem. And as I prayed yesterday I feel the Lord gave me a promise for you, that He has seen your heart, and He is pleased. That though you are the youngest, like King David you will not be overlooked. He is raising you up to be a man of influence who will impact this world for good.

And so I release you to it, Sam. With pride. Joy. Confidence. I know His plans for you are good, and like God, I trust your heart.

Gift Upon Gift

Gift upon Gift.1 musical-notes-symbols-pc57zyxcB

Joy upon Joy.

After I posted last Wednesday something beautiful happened. I got an email offering me a JOB singing WORSHIP music. There are few things I enjoy more than singing, and no singing I love more than music that focuses me on God.

You know, Jesus tells those He cares about not to worry. But that post on Wednesday was related to worry. Maybe someday I’ll tell you the story, but this is not the right time. Anyway, here I am stuffing my emotions and eating my emotions, and not ready to talk to God about my emotions. I mean I know I need to pray, but it was just one of those times I didn’t feel like talking.

So in the middle of all this angst the call comes for this job I applied for. The worship pastor hires me to sing in the church choir. He needs a section leader type who can help carry the sound. I’m thrilled. I mean, really? I’ve been asking God for a little extra income knowing I am not supposed to take a full-time job because He’s asked me to enter more fully into the writing and speaking He asked me to do. For years I’ve also told Him I miss singing. So there He is, LOVE in ACTION, giving me a job that feels like play.

The worship pastor says he knows it is late notice, but I’d be welcome to come early for the church dinner and a lenten service. Now because of this big thing in my life I was trying not to worry about I’d decided about 3 pm to put on my jammies and lose myself in one of my favorite BBC mini-series. Instead I’m putting on makeup and rushing out the door. The soup and salad is wonderful, the people precious and welcoming.

Then the service begins.

I’m not overly familiar with liturgical worship or church calendar, but have sung a lot of high church music over the years in choirs and as a music minor in college. The service was only 30 minutes and a gentle, simple time of reflection. Peace washed over me in the words sung in the liturgy.

God is in control.

He sees.

The pastor encourages us to write out a prayer and place it at one of the crosses at the front of the room. I lay my burden down.

No emotional processing, crying,  or hours of journal writing (which is often my MO). Instead a simple laying down. Trusting.

“Sorry I’ve blown you off all day, Lord,” I whisper.

I feel His gentle answer. He understands a momma’s heart. He knows sometimes it’s just too deep for words. He’s not offended. He knows I couldn’t talk about it yet.

He removes all guilt. He doesn’t comment on my emotional eating or how I should know better. He doesn’t chastise me in any way. That’s simply not His character.

His character is to love even when I don’t open myself up to that love.

Even though I couldn’t seem to formulate a prayer, He answered the wordless prayer of my heart. He set it all up, my Sweet, Sweet, God. Pouring peace and joy in unexpected ways.

He soothed the deep waters of this little momma and made it all okay.

How I love Him.

Until next time,

Paula another test (401x192) (2)

Releasing the Mom Dream Discovering the Me Dream

That thing in my throat.

I think I’m winning the battle with it, but it sneaks up too often.

Tears stuck in there.

Or maybe sobs.

Because there is water in my eyes.

I’m not really that sad, am I?

But it’s this perpetual lodging of emotion

A wall of it across my throat

Right at my Adams apple.

At least it is no longer all day, every day.

It’s mostly when I kiss the last goodbye.

For twenty-three years I’ve been home.

Rarely alone.

12 (2)

Alone time a great gift.

But now.

Now.

Each moment with is the gift.

(And wasn’t it then, too?)

The long hours are empty of them.

Some far away. A phone call or pictures on Facebook the connection.

Others still here.

But not home.

Work. College classes. Friends.

11

5

14er

As it should be, this.

I celebrate with and for them.

I celebrate for me, too.

Finding my rhythm.

Following my dreams now.

But I can’t avoid the grief journey.

Even when I try.

So I walk it honestly.

Letting go of that first, most treasured dream.

Staying home with them.

Teaching them to read.

Singing songs.

Hiking and field trips

9

Building forts in the backyard and tents in the living room.

Snow days with shoveling and sledding and spaghetti for lunch.

snow day 4

157

Cuddling together like puppies with our favorite read-a-loud.

Praying too long at devotions.

They started timing me.

I guess I didn’t have enough alone time to satisfy all I needed to say to Him in those days.

Then driver’s licences and first jobs and sports and speech competitions

23529_1349732098410_6605085_n

sarah spring tournament 2008

1536490_756832847671701_835925242_n hockey17

 

And friends

14

Baby steps from home.

Medium ones, too Sarah smiles

620140517_143353

Preparing us all for the giant leave.

IMAG0052

Another car loaded for college

mom hugging s and d

One-by-one. Sometimes two or three at a time.

Moving on.

Strong. Ready. Joyful.

But not here.

Not here with me.

The emotion ledge in my throat doesn’t last as long today.

The house is quiet.

Excited to meet my goals.

As soon as the lump lodged in my throat allows.

Journeying Back and Forward All at Once

005

This old branding was designed many years ago. The words and Scripture were reminders to me of what God wanted me to do with my writing. This is not my present “brand.” But it is still my heart.

It was as if God gave me a little shake, spoke to me, then let me return to my night’s rest.

It happened Saturday night. As you know, I’ve been fighting to rediscover Paula the Writer. Despite the fact I have two published books and over 300 published non-fiction pieces (not to mention blogging), I sort-of lost her.

Determined to return to consistent productivity as a writer, I’ve spent many agonizing hours at the computer in 2015. My friend says I’m like a gymnast who knows how to do flips and all kinds of wonderful things, but is out of practice.

So I sit, stretching my muscles, trying to limber up so I can return to the abilities I once had. I still know how to flip across the mat, but I’m out of shape and stiff.

As I entered 2015 the Lord promised me this would be a year of release. As I journaled and prayed I asked Him to help me find His rhythm as a writer. In response to His prompting I wrote that I was to spend my early writing hours on fiction and then switch gears in the afternoon to spend some time writing non-fiction. (This goes against typical advice of editors, publishers, and agents who tell you to focus on one, build your brand, and get established before thinking about doing the other, but I sensed He wanted me to start writing both–in the same day–something I had not considered.)

But I didn’t do it.

Once I started trying to write, I dug into a novel I’d promised my agent. I felt I wasn’t free to do anything else until I met that commitment. I’ve struggled fiercely with it and spent painful hours staring at the screen. I blew off the whole idea of writing non-fiction for a part of each writing day. I couldn’t even do fiction. Did I really want to add another stress to my over-taxed brain?

But Saturday night I briefly awoke, was told I was supposed to be doing both, and went back to sleep.

So Sunday I tried it. I wrote almost 1400 words on my novel, glanced at the clock, and closed the document. The second half of my allotted writing time would be non-fiction. As I meditated on which project to tackle, I had a sense I was to begin to compile the 205 devotionals I wrote several years ago. The goal is to add a few more and release them as a year-long devotional book.

The journey through what will be the first month of my devotional book has blessed me beyond imagining. As I relieve those hard-earned spiritual discoveries, my heart reaches to God in worship, so grateful for all He’s brought me through, touched even now, by His attention during that time. I’ve chuckled at His humor, teared at precious memories, and quite frankly been blown away by the richness of what I’m reading.

I can’t wait to share my deep spiritual journey of those years with whatever readers come my way. A marketing plan–which includes lots of give-aways and pricing that makes it affordable to many–is playing in my mind. I’m so excited I can hardly wait.

So I’d appreciate your prayers. One of these days–hopefully by late spring–I’ll let you know where you can get the book! My working title is Soul Scents: Longing for the Fragrance of Christ.

I can’t tell you how good it feels to have the excitement building within me. This book will be one of the deepest offerings of my heart.

Until next time,

Paula another test (401x192) (2)

 

PS Facebook messaged a good friend about this before posting the story here. She called with something that encouraged me greatly. She was praying on Sunday morning, asking God to light a fire underneath me to put together this very project! Talk about confirmation of the journey!