This all came out of a conversation I had with my husband the other night. I mentioned to him how one of my old favorites, Redeeming Love, which I read years ago and have recommended to many readers, has been pelted with criticism. The fire has come from both sides, Christian and non-Christian alike. When I first heard of this, I was indignant. “What fault could one possibly find in Francine Rivers’ classic which practically was the catalyst for an entirely different *and better* style of Christian fiction?”
In that home where I belong, I will not mark time by tragedies. I will not mark time at all. I will bask in the good, of a day without night, of joy that falls not between sadness but instead of.
I needed that uncomfortable, chair-squirming slap in the face. I needed that warm hug of a reminder. I needed those ropes untied - again.
I didn’t give him anything but a lap and 20 minutes of my time. And it healed because it said to him, “You are worth my time. You are worth my noticing. You are worth my attention.”
I’m living my dream. God knew what He was doing when He put us together. He had a plan. It’s still unfolding. And I’m loving where it’s taking us. Our life isn’t glamorous, but it’s blessed. In countless ways, blessed.