Julian watched from her anchor hold as recurrences of the Black Death ravaged her community. And from her sheltered-in position, she prayed.

We have been waiting, praying and trying to hang on in a long winter season. Recently we have seen signs of thawing. Is it spring?

Glancing at my notes and my Bible, I wondered if the humans on the other side of the screen felt like I did - in desperate need of a break.

Mary's grief over the empty tomb echoed back to me as I stared at empty shelves. I'd gone to where I hoped I'd find hope - it was empty.

We don't use "amazing" to describe ourselves. But God's grace does look amazing on us! It's about him and what he does for us.

As the storm clouds roll in I am choosing to look for beauty and name grief.

I blurted out a prayer to God. "This is a need-MUCH-of-God day. Not a handle-it-myself-with-just-a-bit-of-your help day." Really, Elisa?

I had internalized the narrative that the only acceptable version of me was the shiny one ... Living this way came at a great cost.

As I walk the path to living out my calling, I am faced with a challenge. There are endless voices calling for my attention and my time.

When I was raising my children I didn't have anyone to turn to for simple needs like a mattress, or for deeper support.

I don't like to do anything slow or even less than fast. But might I be missing something with all this speediness?

The disciplines involved in exercise are similar to those we have in the Christian life. We need to build endurance to finish the race.

What in the world are we supposed to do about our less-than-perfect lives? Jesus had to slip away and pray a lot. Maybe that's our answer.

Since moving to a townhome 15 miles from our long-time home, every minute of every day had been packed with figuring out changes.

I don't live life a decade at a time, or even a year at a time. Life is a step at a time. One foot in front of the other. Plodding along.

The unexpected sighting of a butterfly brought delight to my day. The early butterfly, so frail, also reminded me of a premature birth.

Maybe I don't have to stop everything to find a quiet spot to be with God. Maybe I can be with God by building my home, my nest, near him.

About a year ago I decided to give in. No, I decided to embrace. Gray. I've never looked back. But I was more than ready. Read on as dear...

This carol is based on a poem written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. He penned the poem on Christmas Day, 1863, during the American Civil...

Baby Jesus By Elisa Morgan Every year when I pull out Christmas decorations, I find one box containing multiple nativities that I've...