Quiet in His Love

Hope...can be fleeting. It can come and go in a split second. It can settle around your shoulders like a cloak of comfort. Oh, those are the days! When hope comes in, as if carried by two bluebirds from Snow White , and wraps around you and ministers to your heart...that is a good day! Even if it only stays for an hour or two, it is hope and it starts to take root in your heart. Hope says, "It isn't hopeless. I'm here. I'm with you. I can help you get through this." Hope is a messenger sent from our Father to give us, well, hope. He sends those moments, those hours, those days...to give us a foothold or, perhaps, a toehold. Sometimes that's all we need to get us through the next lightless moment, the next challenge, the next storm. Oh yes...hope..it comes for us...even when it "feels" like it won't be back...it comes. Hang on to that, friends! Grab it and hang on tight. Snuggle in to it. Breathe in its fragrance. Soak your fingers and toes in it....

I often wonder, when these time markers roll around, how time has gone by so quickly. 13 months have gone by since my father's death. It seems unreal. I wish it were. Time markers have a way of sneaking up on us, both bad and good. It seems like time is creeping along at a snail's pace and then I look up and see my firstborn...almost 14, in ninth grade, full of questions, worries, and amazing potential. I remember trying to convince her to crawl...and walk...and eat baby food...and all the things. Encourage bravery...cheer on victories...rave over accomplishments. Today marks a 24-hour period in time that will come and go like so many other 24-hour periods. It marks 13 months since my father's heavenly arrival...2 weeks until my firstborn son's 12th birthday...20 days until my firstborn's 14th birthday...27 days until my youngest daughter's 11th birthday...and the list goes on. This 24-hour period will never mark the same significant moments ever again because t...

  Many of you know our story. You know the heartache Tony and I suffered at the loss of two children to miscarriage. One child in 2007 and the other in 2009. God has used that sadness and heartache to grow us and to develop an amazing lending library in honor of our two already-home children. About nine years ago, during a correspondence writing course I took, I wrote a "play" and I feel compelled to share it with you here. This piece is not very in-depth, but I think it illustrates some important points. I hope that you will know my heart in it. Be blessed. Remember that you have a story to share with others. Your heartaches and trials and traumas shape you. God often uses those moments in your life to reach others around you. Hugs to you, friend. He cares for you.   From 2013: Losing Hannah An original five-minute play By Jolene Ceravalo Setting: A bed and dresser and chair establish the bedroom. Woman on bed crying, man walks in. MAN: ( Walks over to woman on b...

Today marks five months since my dad's death. How is it possible that so much time has passed so quickly. In many ways, life looks different than it did before. It is full of additional challenges and heartaches. Tomorrow may be the last day that I will ever set foot in the house that my parents, my brother, and I moved into in January of 1984. I wasn't yet three-and-a-half years old when we moved in, but I spent many years there. I got married at twenty-four, so I spent over two decades of my life in that house. As of Wednesday, February 9th, it no longer belongs to my mother. Instead of the house being the Naumann house, as it has been for over 38 years, it will be the "Smith house" or the "Anderson house" or the "Davis house." It's just a house...I know. An ordinary house. I haven't lived there full-time for over fifteen years, yet it holds memories packed in almost every corner. Memories that cannot be put into a box and packed away or ...