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Dear Lovely Readers,
π©What Does It Say About Me?
π A Prayer to Close
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Dear Lovely Readers,
Dear Lovely Reader,
I have had two blog posts on my mind for weeks. One being my Psalm 8 (part 2), and now this follow-up to my 40 random facts about me. I ended the last post of that series with the words of my friend, "What is one of your favorite things about last year?" And "What is one thing you want to accomplish in the next year?"
I had every plan to answer that, but as I began to write my post (because, yes, most times I write it out by hand before typing it up), I realized I didn't really do that. Loosely but not really.
At the beginning of the year, I wrote out my prayers for 2026, and I have been blessed to see how God is answering them. The year is only halfway done, and I am blessed to see how God will answer the others.
πYellow note card — "Prayers for 2026."
Praise:
Prayers:
π Back to praises and a little bit of prayers:
I don't know when I wrote the blue card, probably later in January or early February, but as much as I can proclaim things over myself* I prayed:
God is graciously blessing me in many of these prayers, but looking over this list, I can still see some areas of struggle I need to actively turn over to the Lord. But as I said in my Psalm 8 (part 2) post, I am still crying out to God, "I trust, but help my untrusting."
I don't have a neat bow to tie on any of this — and honestly, I don't think I'm supposed to. Faith is a daily return. And so I'll keep returning, keep writing my prayers on little note cards, keep pinning them where I can see them. Because the card on my board is a constant reminder — "This is the confidence we have in approaching God: if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us." (1 John 5:14). He heard me when I wrote those prayers in January, and He is still hearing me now.
π Lovely reader, He hears you too. So keep asking. Keep returning. Nothing you lay before Him is ever forgotten.
Thanks for reading and joining me in this journey.
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| This is usually what it looks like when I am getting blogging done |
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Dear Lovely Readers,
I don't know how many times I have said it on here, but one of my dreams is to use this blog as a Bible study that maybe one day will become a book (dream upon dream) — but if I don't start somewhere, I will probably never start. So here I go.
First, let me explain that I go through something like a Discovery Bible Study (DBS) (to learn more, click here). In this, I go through questions:
I write out the verse, and if it's cross-referenced, I look it up. So it can take me days to go through a section, or weeks to go through a chapter… but I don't mind. I had a friend tell me once that it took her 10 years to do an inductive study of the whole Bible. And I figure the time is going to pass anyway, so I might as well use it to get deeper into the Word.
This post is dedicated to my boyfriend. A few days ago, I was really struggling, and I couldn't stop crying, so I called him and asked him to read a Psalm to me. He pulled out his favorite — Psalm 8 — and read it over me.
v.1 — "O LORD, our Lord, how excellent is Your name in all the earth, who has set Your glory above the heavens."
v.2 — "Out of the mouth of babes and nursing infants You have ordained strength, because of Your enemies, that You may silence the enemy and the avenger."
v.3 — "When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars, which You have ordained..."
v.4–5 — "What is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man that You visit him? For You have made him a little lower than the angels, and You have crowned him with glory and honor."
v.6 — "You have made him to have dominion over the works of Your hands; You have put all things under his feet."
v.9 — "O LORD, our Lord, how excellent is Your name in all the earth!"
Psalm 8 is a song of praise — a bookend psalm, opening and closing with the same declaration: "O LORD, our Lord, how excellent is Your name in all the earth." It begins and ends in worship, and everything in between is wonder.
A quick note on the very first verse that stood out in my study: the first word is the divine name Yahweh. The second Hebrew word, translated "our Lord," carries the meaning of "Our Sovereign." So right from the start, David is not just praising a faraway deity — he is crying out to the God who is both transcendent (above all the heavens) and intimately personal (our Lord, our Sovereign).
Does it stop you, too — that He is both the God of the universe and somehow, personally, yours?
God's glory surpasses the heavens (v.1). Cross-referencing with Psalm 148:13: "Let them praise the name of the LORD, for His name alone is exalted; His glory is above all the earth and heavens." And Psalm 113:4: "The LORD is high above all nations, His glory is above the heavens." His name and His glory are inseparable — and both are incomprehensibly vast.
God uses the weak to silence the proud (v.2). The cross-references here are fascinating. In Matthew 21:16, Jesus quotes this very verse when the children are crying out "Hosanna" in the temple courts and the religious leaders are indignant. Jesus essentially says: Yes. This is exactly what this psalm is about. And 1 Corinthians 1:27 echoes it: "But God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things that are mighty." God doesn't need the powerful or the polished. He ordains praise from the mouths of babies. That's the kind of God He is.
And honestly, doesn't that just take the pressure off?
God is intimately attentive to human beings (v.4–5). This is perhaps the most stunning part of the psalm. David looks up at the stars — at the immeasurable expanse of creation — and asks: What is man, that You are mindful of him? The rhetorical question is meant to stun us. And it should. God created all of this, and yet He is mindful of us. He visits us. The Hebrew text of verse 5 reads: "You have made him to lack little of God" — human beings are made in His image, just a little less than the angels, and crowned with glory and honor. When is the last time you actually let yourself believe that about yourself?
The note I wrote in my journal says it best: "The response to this rhetorical question creates stunned awe."
Man — made of the earth — starts out at the summit of God's creation. That's not arrogance; that's the biblical vision of human dignity. We were made for something. We were made like Someone.
And then there's verse 6, which pulled me into a cross-reference rabbit hole (the best kind): "You have made him to have dominion over the works of Your hands; You have put all things under his feet." (See also: Genesis 1:26, 28; 1 Corinthians 15:27; Ephesians 1:22; Hebrews 2:8.)
This is where Psalm 8 connects directly to something much bigger — to the story of Christ. In 1 Corinthians 15:27, Paul quotes this psalm and applies it to Jesus. Hebrews 2 does the same. The dominion given to humanity in Genesis, echoed in Psalm 8, finds its ultimate fulfillment in the Son of Man. Jesus is the one in whom all things are truly put under His feet.
That thread — from Genesis to the Psalms to Paul — makes me sit on my bed with a cup of tea and just... wonder.
I am seen. I am visited. I am crowned.
Not because I earned it. Not because I am impressive. But because He is, and He chose to make me in His image, to give me dignity, to set His attention on me.
On the day I called my boyfriend crying, I didn't feel crowned. I felt like the dust I'm made of. And he read me this psalm. And somewhere in "O LORD, our Lord, how excellent is Your name" — I remembered that the God whose glory is above the heavens also bends down to be our Lord. My Lord.
That's the whole psalm in a breath: He is infinitely great, and He is intimately ours.
Thank You, Lord, for Your authority, and for the authority You have given me. Lord, I am sorry if I have ever abused or misused it. You are holy, righteous, and good. You love wholeheartedly. You are my God, and I don't want dominion if You are not leading.
Amen.
π Cross-references used in this study: Psalm 148:13; Psalm 113:4; Psalm 111:2; Psalm 44:16; Genesis 1:26, 28; Matthew 21:16; 1 Corinthians 1:27; 1 Corinthians 15:27; Ephesians 1:22; Hebrews 2:6–8; Job 7:17–18; Job 10:12
Can you sit with that for a second — that the God who made the stars is mindful of you, specifically?
Hello faithful readers,
In the first part of this reflection, I lingered in Gideon’s encounter with God, the questions, the hesitation, and the quiet reassurance of God’s presence. But as I sat with the story longer, I began to realize something: Gideon’s questions sound a lot like my own.
For part one, click here.
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| Part one |
Where am I asking God for reassurance, even after He has already spoken?
What promises of God am I struggling to believe right now?
And maybe the question isn’t whether God is present, but whether I am willing to trust Him when He is?
Curious if you are brave enough to answer, where do you see yourself in Gideon’s story?
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Hello faithful readers,
As I have said, one of my goals in life and with this blog is to write a Bible study... for this perfectionist, that is a big undertaking. Like, who am I to write a study? Where would I start? Am I even qualified? Well, after thinking, overthinking, and rethinking about it (a common habit of mine), I finally sat down and wrote one (well 2 blog posts), but I hope to write more.
Thanks for your support!
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| Gideon with an angel... I'm assuming consuming the rock with fire |
In Part 2, I want to explore why I see myself so clearly in Gideon, and how God meets us when our faith wavers, our confidence is thin, and our questions feel unanswered.
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Hello faithful readers,
In my last post (click here to read), I shared a glimpse of my struggle, how disconnected from life I’ve been feeling. I’ve also shared more with some of the prayerful women in my life (I’m sure I have prayerful men too; I’m just usually better at sharing my heart with women). Along with the disconnect, I’ve been wrestling with familiar fears: that I am unworthy of love, unlovable, a burden, or that I will always be alone. These are lies I’ve battled on and off for years. Most of the time, I can keep them at bay, but lately they’ve been loud.
I’ve also felt as though my prayers only reach as far as the journal page on which I write them.
And yet, I’ve actively tried to remind myself of the gospel: God who created the whole universe, wants a relationship with me, not because I am great, but because He created me and loved me, and proved His love by sending His Son (Hello Christmas!) who lived perfectly and on mision to restore people to His kingdom, died as the innocent lamb of God in my place, conquering death for me, and covering me by His blood, for me to have a relationship with Him, and rose from the dead so I no longer have face eternal death.*
I’ve prayed through the Psalms of Lament (Psalm 5) and the Psalms of Praise (Psalm 16). Still, my prayers felt as though they had little impact, and I continued to feel blocked.
If you’re an imagery person, it feels like I’m surrounded by ghostly figures. I can see through them, but they block my vision from truly reaching God or seeing what God desires for me.
One of my prayerful friends sent me a clip of Josh Howerton from Lake Pointe Church, sharing the story of Corrie ten Boom and her sister thanking God for the fleas. Yesterday (12/15), I tried that—thanking God for the “fleas” in my own life.
"Thank you for this low, distant feeling that keeps pressing me deeper into You.
Thank you for Your glory, hope, and strength.
…
Holy Spirit, search my heart.
Give my heart a new song of praise.
Lord, I know You hear my prayers, and that they are not stopping at the pages of this journal. You have me. You know my life. You love me, and You are faithful.
You are glorious, righteous, and secure.
…
You hold my heart.
Thank You, O God, that You hold my heart.
Thank You, O Lord, that my life is in Your hands— my future, anything romantic, finances, any mountains that come my way, any valleys that seek to hold me down, any work, all work for Your kingdom.
…
Thank You, Lord, that this moment, this season, and this earth are not the end-all, be-all of life. I have a home in heaven. One day, I will honestly sit on Your lap, hear Your whispers of love, and worship You face-to-face. While I long for that day, let me be of use. May I keep saying, “Here I am, Lord. Use me.”
Now to the moment that inspired the title of this post.
On Sunday, as part of my job, we hosted a large outing for our clients at a Christmas tree farm. It was a cold and windy day (in New England, it would’ve felt like a great December day). Sometimes our clients won’t attend ESL class if it’s cold, so I prayed that the sun would come out—that they would have a good day and hear loving truth.
About 10–20 minutes later, I was talking with a volunteer when my boss came up to me and said, “God heard your prayer.” Honestly, I had forgotten what I had prayed and asked, “What?” He reminded me that I had asked for the sun, and it came.
I’m not saying that everything suddenly feels better, or that I’m no longer struggling. But I wanted to share the renewed confidence I have in God. He is my hope, my anchor, and most days my sanity.
What “small answered prayer” might God be using to remind you today that He is near?
Hello faithful readers,
The “cold” has finally reached Houston, and honestly, I’m delighted. I’d be happy if it stuck around for three more months! Of course, in true Houston fashion, by the time I finished typing this newsletter, we were already back in the 70s, which I suppose is still better than the 80s in December.
I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving and are feeling the joy and anticipation of Christmas drawing near.
Over Thanksgiving break, I loved the extra sleep and slower pace, and I’m hoping Christmas brings more moments of rest and time with family. But I’ll be honest—lately my heart has felt a bit distant from the thankfulness and joy that usually come so easily this time of year. It feels like I’ve misplaced some of the “magic” I used to sense as a child. More deeply, I’ve felt somewhat disconnected from life, though I can’t quite pinpoint why.
This morning (12/5), during my quiet time, I wrote:
“I want to feel connected to life. I want to be done with this half-life. I long for joy, hope, security, peace, completeness… not out of doubt, but because something feels missing.
I am struggling.
What is it?
Lord, is it You I’m missing?
Lord, I have You—You are my Savior. How much I need You. You are my hope, my security, my sanity. I’d be nothing without You. You created the heavens and the earth… and somehow decided the world needed me, too. You sent Your Son to live, die, and rise again so that all who call You Lord would have life in You.
Thank You—though these words barely feel adequate.
Lord, You are gracious, loving, trustworthy, and complete. You go before me and behind me.
I have You, but I need You more. I’m asking for Your wisdom, Your joy, and everything You desire to give me on this side of heaven.
Lord, capture my heart.
What do You desire from me, in me, and through me?
What do You want to teach me?”*
As I wrote, the lyrics of “In Christ Alone my hope is found” came to mind, and I prayed that those words would be more deeply true of my life.
I’m not entirely sure how to wrap up this blog post except to say: would you join me in that prayer?
Thank you, truly. And here’s to the cold weather lingering a little longer… and to the hope that God is already warming the places in my heart that feel a bit chilled.
Holding onto grace. *
*I feel the need to say the em dashes were not Chat GPT but how I actually wrote my prayers