Sometimes we struggle to get through the day. And even as Christians, we wonder if anyone understands.
Rest assured, someone does. Michelle Bengston, author of Hope Prevails carries many titles. Besides wife and mother, she’s also a Board Certified Clinical Neuropsychologist and helps people every day.
But she also understands depression from the inside out. She’s dealt with her own depression and found that no matter how dark it gets … hope prevails. She published Hope Prevails: Insights From a Doctor’s Personal Journey Through Depression last year to rave reviews and is now offering her newest book, Hope Prevails Bible Study, being released October 25th.
Watch for it! You can also follow Michelle and learn more about both books, Hope Prevails and Hope Prevails Bible Study at http://drmichellebengtson.com/.
While I stammer and struggle with feelings and words, my dear friend, Lori Roeleveld, has the ability to put life back in order for me. It’s like she strokes my hair with her calming touch, only she uses words. Lori’s words did it again. They gave me the permission to feel what I already felt but didn’t know how to put them into words. I need to allow myself to lament.
If we’re all honest, the Las Vegas Massacre devastated each one of us. Every last one of us was touched in one way or another. Allow yourself to lament, too.
Love you, Lori. My life is blessed because of your friendship and your words.
Autumn is my favorite season for several reasons. Mostly because it was my dad’s favorite, too. Not only was his birthday in September, but Hunting Season started then. He said he never remembered the correct date for his birthday because it always came in the middle of hunting season, and he was more excited about that.
So I became excited about hunting, too.
On those magical autumn mornings, we’d get up early and enter the woods before the squirrels started looking for their breakfast. We’d walk as quietly as we could, though acorns continually crunched under our feet. Twigs snagged our pants. Trouncing through the ground cover, the crisp morning air would wrap around my face. My boots would get soaked from the dew. Dad would lead us to a spot—a perfect spot—where we would wait for the squirrels.
That’s how it went—every time. Every magical and perfect time.
No talking. Hunters don’t talk. Instead, we bonded over milk-coffee (mostly milk in my case) and snack crackers or the occasional piece of candy. After all, hunters needed to keep up their strength up as they watched and waited for a good shot. Continue reading →
You’re at a dinner party. You look over a sea of faces and you realize you don’t know a soul. As you hear snippets of conversations, you realize some of these people are from different parts of the country—even the world. You see young people dressed casually and others dressed in business garb. Some are sipping drinks while others are absent-mindedly crunching on ice. There’s a young African-American man with the most intriguing dreadlocks you’ve ever seen sitting on one side of you. To the other side is a businessman from Chicago making it known that he has no use for children—in fact, he views them as the enemy. Startling, rich, wacky and diverse, all these conversations are happening. If you’d just jump in, think about the opportunities there to touch base with people you may not necessarily meet on your average day. Continue reading →