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.

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

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

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.

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

Every Square Inch By Elisa Morgan We'd already reviewed the upstairs and the main floor when I opened the door to the basement and led my...

Arriving by Leaving By Elisa Morgan More than forty years ago, I loaded suitcases and boxes into the trunk of my Cutlass (white with a...

Everybody's Got Something By Elisa Morgan She walked ahead of me into the meeting, finishing a call and then tucking her phone into her...

Connected to Connection By Elisa Morgan I heard heavy footsteps approaching behind me and instinctively moved to the right side of the...

God Hears By Elisa Morgan How do you know that God hears you when you call to him? I mean, really hears you? Over my lifetime, I can...

Girls with Guts By Elisa Morgan I was up a tree. Literally. On a two-foot square platform. Hooked to a rope above my head that extended...

A Pledge and a Prayer By Elisa Morgan I stood erect, next to my child-sized desk and concentrated on my right hand. The alignment of my...

Beloved By Elisa Morgan From my blanketed perch in a window seat of an international flight, I looked out at the cloud castles and mused...

In 1962 my mother made it through a difficult day with a nine-year-old, a seven-year-old and an eighteen-month-old. It was difficult...

The Sharp Edges of the Cross By Elisa Morgan When we were finally seated at our corner table for two, we scanned the menu and struggled...

Comparing By Elisa Morgan I scroll down, down, down my Instagram feed. Bright and beautiful faces grin winsomely at me. I recognize one...

Does It Count? By Elisa Morgan She approached me with great hesitance and then, once she opened her mouth, her question tortoise-crawled...

Winter Sight By Elisa Morgan To be honest, winter is my least favorite season. In its cut-short days, life goes dormant and my soul slips...

The Purge of Muchness By Elisa Morgan I'm re-running this blog because it was one of our most popular last year, and it's a good time of...