My Pic

My Pic

Welcome to my little Corner

I am Barbara.

An introvert masquerading as an extrovert, a backyard gardener with a farmer's heart, a nurse by day and a dreamer by night. I am passionate about Jesus, spicy food, puppy dogs, words, compost and the aroma of desert rain. Music is chocolate to my soul but solitude feeds the deepest part of me.

And you need to know:

I have been rescued.

Several times actually. Right out of the mud and mire. My writing began as whispers between me and my God and it will always be rooted in that soil. So the plan is simple: I write. Out of the overflow of my heart, the place He has so generously chosen to dwell.

Though I am all grown up, I feel as if the handsome Prince has finally found me and the glass slipper fits. And a living breathing fairy tale has ensued.

So pull up a chair and "sit a spell", as we would say from my West Virginia roots. I hope you find His Footprints here.

Saturday, July 26, 2014


A new grandson is born over a recent weekend and we display his picture on Facebook with joy overflowing.  "Likes" and warm congratulations adorn this cherished event.  People whom we barely know rejoice with us.  

On another Facebook page, a different child’s picture is displayed.  Husband and wife celebrate alone. They stroke the picture of their offspring with bittersweet, caressing her with their eyes.  Eight years is an eternity to not touch your daughter, much less get a glimpse of her or look into her eyes. 
Mental illness ripped her from them as a teenager.  Months bled into years as she denied them contact.  She is older now – a grown woman - yet she is carried in that mama and daddy place inside them just the same. 

And in this recent picture, the estranged one smiles.  Eyes seem to dance, arms around the few she has allowed into her fragmented mind and world.  And in a flash, just for a moment, she seems to smile at the grieving parents. 

They yearn to break her free from the chains that bind her but not unlike our new grandson, she must be birthed in God’s perfect timing.  So they wait and view her from afar, on screens and through other's chance encounters. Though their pain has taken a settled place within them, there is no bitterness or resentment.   They serve joyfully, pray faithfully and celebrate other's life events. 

Often we think that “having it together” is a score for the home team as Christians.   But I think far more is spoken through lives of faithfulness in the grit and grind of imperfection and brokenness.  Because honestly, it shouldn't be about us anyway.   It's about how our lives point to God.  When we yield the canvas of our hopes and dreams, the Great Artist creates.   He may paint with a different stroke, but it is perfect in His way and timing.
The true beauty of our lives is not in being free of life's problems but in the yielding.  And this is the life that we see in them. 

In the meantime they, whom we love so dearly, whose pain we tenderly but awkwardly hold, wait.  On tiptoe. And as the storm rages on and they are pelleted by downpours, we pray and watch with them for rainbows.