While home under the weather, I witnessed God’s love in the simplest of ways — through the tender prayers of my daughter, the concern of my son, the mimicry of my baby, and the steady support of my mum and husband. In that moment, I was reminded that the everlasting love of God wraps us right where we are.
Have you ever had one of those moments where something good came your way, completely unexpected, and you knew it wasn’t because of anything you did? That’s grace. Some call it G.R.A.C.E. — God’s Riches Abundant at Christ’s Expense. However you spell it, it shows up in the tiniest details of life, little fingerprints of God’s kindness reminding us that grace isn’t earned — it’s simply given.
We make plans for tomorrow, assuming there will always be another chance — another visit, another call, another outing. But someday, there won’t be. None of us knows when we’ll face our final moments. That’s why consistency matters: the oil we keep replenishing today may be the very thing that carries us when tomorrow doesn’t come.
Not all lessons are taught in words. Some of the strongest lessons are communicated even in silence. Through my dad’s quiet strength, my church upbringing, and even my research as a biologist, I’ve seen the power of observation. Our lives—our silence, habits, and responses—are always teaching. The question is, what story are we telling?
When my son set out to make a paper bag, a ship, and eventually a pair of shoes, I didn’t expect to be reminded of God’s own creative heart. What started as a simple craft project became a reflection on how we’re made to create—and made with purpose.
This morning, my son asked me if I loved his eyes. When I said yes, he replied, “Because Jesus made it.” His simple truth reminded me how often we overlook the everyday miracles in our bodies and our world. From crimson sunsets to galaxies far away, God’s artistry is everywhere—worth noticing, worth thanking Him for.
Watching the traffic light outside my window—cycling through red, yellow, and green without fail—reminds me of something profound. It doesn’t wait for applause. It simply does what it was made to do. In that quiet, ordinary moment, I discovered a powerful life lesson about time, purpose, and consistency. This post is an invitation to reflect on what it means to show up faithfully and steward your season—especially when no one’s watching.
Truth without love wounds. Love without truth misleads. Jesus showed us the balance. Discover how His gentle approach—and a few funny life lessons from my dad—taught me to speak truth without breaking someone’s spirit.
Growing up, I witnessed a faith that was marked by sacrifice—hours of prayer, unwavering commitment, and giving even when there was little to give. Today, with all our conveniences and distractions, I find myself asking: Are we still running the same race our parents did? This heartfelt reflection explores the cost of true discipleship, the danger of watered-down consecration, and the call to realign with God’s unchanging standard.
Discover how Psalm 90:12 and project management phases can guide you to live each day with purpose, priority, and intentionality.
After the resurrection, the disciples knew Jesus was alive—yet His absence still left them grieving and lost. In this reflection on John 21, we explore how God meets us in our rawest moments, gently restores our hearts, and offers comfort through His Spirit—even when we feel stuck in sorrow.
When Ruth made her famous vow to Naomi, she wasn’t just being sentimental—she was stepping into a life of faith, sacrifice, and redemption. In this reflection, I explore the kind of friendship that clings, the quiet providence of God in ordinary life, and how a Moabite widow became part of the lineage of Jesus. This is more than a story of loss—it’s one of loyalty, legacy, and unshakable faith.
My mother once dreamed of building a house with a chapel in it—a sacred room set apart for family worship and prayer. We never built that chapel—but our living room became one. With worship, prayer, and intention, we created a space where God met us. This post is a reminder that sacred spaces aren’t always built—they’re made by hearts that seek Him, whether in a closet, a corner, or over cornflakes.
You watered the dream. You waited through the dry seasons. Then finally, something shows—only it’s not what you hoped for. It’s sour. Disappointing. And you’re ready to walk away. But what if the sweetest part of your story is just “one year” away? Before you cut down your “orange tree,” read this.
A spontaneous game between siblings turned into a powerful reminder that Bible stories do take root. Discover why teaching your kids God’s Word—even in the little moments—makes a lasting impact.
It started with a simple question from my daughter during devotion: “Mommy, why are you pressing your phone?”
She didn’t see that I was reading the Bible—she just saw another screen. That moment stirred something in me. I realized that even though my digital Bible was convenient, it wasn’t sending the message I wanted to pass down. So, I made a shift. It’s not the most convenient choice, but it’s a deeply intentional one—because my children are watching. And this “inconvenient” change? It’s shaping their faith in ways I pray will last a lifetime.
Some friends will pray for you. Others will climb. Tear. Carry. Push past crowds. Break rules. Break roofs—just to get you to Jesus.
This week, I found myself thinking deeply about the kind of people we surround ourselves with… and the kind of friend we are. This post is a heart check—for me, and maybe for you too.
They knelt beside us. They whispered ‘Amen.’ They helped us pray to victory. This is a tribute to the quiet heroes who stood with us in prayer—and the prayer culture I long to see again.
Drive time to and from daycare has always been a special bonding moment for me and the kids. In those precious windows of time, we talk, laugh, and settle into a rhythm of worship. We usually play a few of… Read More ›
The other day, I had this nagging discomfort in my eye. It felt like something was stuck in my eye, but I couldn’t quite tell what it was. It felt so uncomfortable. I rubbed and blinked, trying to shake it… Read More ›
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