Heart Matters Blog

We love to lift the voices of women who speak truth into our souls. Today we are blessed to have Sally Eliza Cranham. And we'd like to dedicate this to our Jewish friends grieving the loss of their loved ones in Pittsburgh. Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. —Exodus 20:8 For at least the last ten years I have been on a journey of entering into Sabbath, or Shabbat. Shabbat literally means, 'to stop' and we first come across the word in Genesis where God, in the space of completion, stops and rests. Having many Jewish friends, I have been gifted with a deep experience of making Shabbat a set apart moment in my week. They have also helped me unpack an understanding of the commonly used phrase among Christians of, "resting in God". Shabbat is traditionally celebrated on a Friday...

We Heart Matters Gals are thrilled to announce that we have a poet who has joined our team. Nicole Duclos! We couldn't be happier! Please welcome her warmly... There is a tiredness, an ache in the bones, that calls us to wake up to all the things ignored. Things that extend so far back they feel like breathing, like they are layered into our souls. There are times (isn't it true?) after we have been rescued that we still call out for our prisons, our walls. We have been told, the way out is through the wilderness. When we are called, how many of us will go? Will we even hear it? How many of us will have the courage to trade our tiredness for freedom?

I am like a deaf man who cannot hear… Be not silent. Do not be far from me, O Lord. Psalm 38:13a / 35:22b The wind blew strong all through the night, rattling windows…and my nerves…and today it blusters still.Even as I sit here, it howls and hollers. Our neighbor's screen door slams open and closed, being pushed and pulled with each stiff gust. Leaves scurry and scatter across our lawn in every direction. The typical sounds of a neighbor's dog barking or of traffic hurrying along the nearby highway are muffled, if not silenced, by the wind's boisterous behavior. But, it is not just the wind that has been blustering of late. My mind feels tumultuous as well. Unsettled thoughts have been clamoring noisily in my head; yet, the more I try to pull them together, the more strewn they become...

I read something this summer, and I couldn't get it out of my head. It was a "light switch-flipped-on" moment. You know the ones. Where the truth of it sinks into your inner soul while simultaneously making you wonder how you never saw it before. Here were the light switch words: "Our freedom of choice is so valuable to Him that He restrains Himself from manifesting His presence in a way where our freedom of choice would be removed…when He reveals Himself in fullness, even the devil and his demons will declare that Jesus Christ is Lord." —Bill Johnson, Encountering the Goodness of God He restrains himself. Wow. That's how important our freedom is to him. How important it is that we choose him. It makes sense though, doesn't it? We are made in his image and don't we want to be cho...

​We have the very sweet privilege to share the following story by ​Hannah Michele Fordice​. When she lost her dad to a house fire, she also lost the precious child she was carrying. If you've experienced miscarriage or someone close to you has, you will blessed and encouraged by what you read today.  Although 15-20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage, I don't often hear about the effect this kind of loss has on the women who've experienced it. Its like society has gagged 1/4 of the female population into silent, invisible grief. And to be honest, I'm guilty of holding the gag in place. Its not that I haven't wanted to write about my miscarriage… I have. I just honestly didn't know how. Because how do you describe what it is to miss something you never got to have? I remember when my br...

Listening seems to be a lost art these days. Most folks in today's culture would rather debate than dialogue. And we're rather an opinionated lot. Instead of being quick to listen and slow to speak, we tend to be quick to speak our minds and slow to bite our tongues and listen. It's so easy to talk over each other without really hearing what is being said. If we're honest with ourselves we are often formulating our response (or rebuttal) before the other person can complete their thought.  Listening is truly an art form. Art, true beauty-filled art, requires skill. And skill is cultivated with hard work and study. The more time spent practicing one's skill, one's art, the more one develops an eye, ear, and feel for it. With time and practice art becomes i...

While the dogs were running around at a nearby park thick with surrounding woods, I called to them as it was time to skedaddle. Work to do. A growling stomach to fill. As usual, one was delinquent. This time it was Daisy. I'm pretty sure that every night after I go to bed they do rock, paper, scissors—a doggie version of course—to determine whose turn it is to tune me out. So my 90-pound newfie mix and I trudged back to the car. I gave Mia her treat for listening and got her settled comfortably in the car with the windows down. I called again to Daisy and was about to get in the car to drive closer when she bounded out of the woods. She came to a baseball diamond fence, however, and was just not sure what to do. The fence was standing between her and me. She looked at me expectantly across...

The desert is lovely in its restfulness—the great brooding stillness over and through everything is so full of God. —Lilias Trotter Jesus was led by the Spirit into the desert...where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing during those days... When the devil had finished all this tempting...Jesus returned to Galilee in the power of the Holy Spirit. —Luke 4:1-2, 14 It's hard to imagine going without food for forty days. Experiencing the darkest of temptations. And not only overcoming them, but, stepping out of the desert full of the power of the Holy Spirit. Yet, that is exactly what the New Testament account states. I've never been to a desert. The closest I've come was out on the western range of Colorado and eastern Utah. It's considered to be semi-desert shrubland. B...

This summer flew by quickly... I'm sure you all feel the same way. And now autumn will quickly be upon us in all it's colorful beauty. It's chilly temps. The smell of fires in the fireplaces.  But, until then. We pray that you will enjoy these last fleeting moments before school begins and life shifts into high gear. God bless you dear readers - we are so very grateful for you! LuAnn, Heidi and Julie

​Peace is the result of retraining your mind to process life as it is, rather than as you think it should be. —Dr. Wayne W. Dryer It's always a little harrowing to drive into a city that you're unfamiliar with. As I am the navigator or the directions person in our vehicle and my hubby the driver, invariably that can lead to high tension. I hadn't been to Pittsburgh in over twenty years. Besides that, whenever we did go we always drove down with my aunt and uncle, who knew the city like the back of their hand. But, Pittsburgh was precisely where the American Cheese Society Conference was being held this year. As we approached the city and crossed over Veteran's Bridge, we desperately searched for our exit into downtown. It wasn't until we passed the exit that we realized it went by another ...

As I was heaving the watermelon out of the cart into my mini black SUV trunk on a sweltering summer day, tiny silver hoops on a white card caught a glint of sun's rays and flashed a hello up at me. So I finished unloading the rest of the bags from the cart, slammed my trunk door, rolled the cart to its nearest holding tank and made my way back into Walmart with my errant earrings. I scurried to the nearest self-checkout. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a Walmart worker coming my way. So much for trying to remain unseen. I figured she was probably wondering what was up. As I began to explain that my earrings had been playing Hide-and-Seek, I realized she didn't want to hear about it. Instead I was being chastised for not waiting in line. There was a line-up for self-checkouts? Who knew? W...

Of my past, God might say, You are my child, then and now, and I have always loved you. Even in heavy moments of shame, the darkest of nights; in the hours you thought I would never love you again. Even then. Of my faith, God might ask, What is faith? Some people think it is just following the rules, abstaining; keeping your legs expertly crossed, and your hair brushed neatly. But faith cannot be shown in outside things. Except, perhaps, the kindness from your eyes as you look into the face of another while they share their pain. Faith comes down to the words of my Son: Love one another. No version of rule following can mean more to me than this. Of my future, God might say, I can promise you, if you stop living as if I am taking accounts, and live, instead, from loving… my love for you, y...

 I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you, in a dry and parched land where there is no water. —Psalm 63:1 It was raining in Big Sky the day I had all to myself to write. From our condo in the treetops I watched the pine trees sway to the rhythm of each gusty wind that blew. Rain splattered large sloppy drops across the window pane. Lone mountain was obscured from view in heavy gray clouds. And it was chilly. Sometimes the raindrops looked more like snowflakes. And it was July. But, oh was it green. We had traveled to Big Sky from Colorado. A state that hadn't seen a drop of rain in months. And it was parched dry. The fire risk has been at high alert. Several fires are still burning acres of land, homes and possessions as I write this. Oh, what they&...

​Summer afternoon, summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language. Henry James  Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time. John Lubbock I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer. My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music. It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips.  Violette Leduc Sweetest blessings on your summer! We Heart Matters girls are taking July off to soak in the summer sun, drink in the wild air and wade our toes blissfully in the cool lakes and streams! See you in August! LuAnn, Heidi and Julie

We’d love to hear the letters you would write to your younger self, if you could bridge the span of time. What counsel would you give yourself? What do you wish you had known when you were a child, teen or young adult?  Please post your letters in the Comment section or on our Facebook page! We really would love for you to share them with us! ❤️

Dear younger me: Grasp and consume God's insatiable love for you. Understanding whose you are will help you to know who you are. When you get your identity from God, you won't need your identity from others. It's the only way you can begin to see people as God does and love them without subconsciously seeking to get something in return (e.g., approval). It's the only way you will risk and not worry about failing. It's the only way you will dance like no one is watching. It's the only way you will fight Satan's lies. You know; the ones where he whispers that God is disappointed in you. That a true Christian would never think those things or stumble like that. That what you are doing isn't good enough. He has already given you everything you need for godly living. You can stop...

We are beginning a new series for the month of June called A Letter to My Younger Self. We pray that it will both resonate with you and encourage you. Dear Me, If I could impart some wisdom to you from this my 60th year, I'd like to tell you something you were never told growing up. You is kind. You is smart. You is important.* You is kind. Kindness is the gift of a tender heart. A heart of which you have. It is a heart that has experienced it's share of pain and trauma and yet sees the world as good, as beauty-filled. Because you are tenderhearted and a bit of a romantic, you will not fare well with the rigidity of your upbringing. You will feel the need to be molded into an acceptable version of you. The thing is...God made you YOU. So even if you ...

​As long as the earth lasts, there will always be a time to plant and a time to gather the crops. As long as the earth lasts, there will always be cold and heat. There will always be summer and winter, day and night. Genesis 8:22 June is the gateway to summer. Jean Hersey I wonder what it would be like to live in a world that was always June. L.M. Montgomery  And since all this loveliness cannot be Heaven, I know in my heart it is June. Abba Woolsen It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside. Maud Hart Lovelace  Summer is a promissory note signed in June, its long days spent and gone before you know it, and due to be repaid next January. Hal Borland  Spring being a tough act to follow, God created June. Al Bernst...

Therefore I urge you to imitate me, just as I imitate Christ. 1st Corinthians 4:16 We have a new neighbor. Just moved into the little nest in our forsythia bush. She's a cat bird. Cat birds have the most delightful song. I recently discovered that they are related to mockingbirds. And that makes sense, since their vocal abilities allow them to copy the songs of other species. When they string all those lilts and tweets together they end up creating a song all their own. Sometimes I've even heard it mimicking crickets or croaking toads. Every now and then it throws its trademark "meow" into its song to remind us who that song really belongs to. As I've been out writing on my deck, serenaded by my new neighbor, it got me thinking. What voices have I been listening to? How have I been pa...

May we all appreciate the freedom that this day represents.  The Heart Matters gals, Heidi, LuAnn and Julie  

Like a drink of water after a marathon. Your own bed after weeks away. A hug from your son or daughter returning home. Protein after a workout. A hot shower after catapulting off your paddle board into deep muck (not that I know this personally). That's how the sun's rays felt last Sunday after months of Minnesota chill. As I lay sprawled on the back deck of our red, black and white Malibu, the sun's rays gave valiant effort to change my white Scandinavian freckled skin to a reddish brown. As the boat gently bobbed up and down like the local loons in the middle of the lake, my son read his novel and my husband polished water stains to oblivion. The birds were singing like they were competing in an American Idol contest as the water gently lapped onto the sandy, rocky shores. "I'm...

"Let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily hinders our progress…" Hebrews 12:1 My preschooler was in a mood, and it was as if nothing was going his way and everything made it worse. To add fuel to the fire, we were out for a family walk, he was running ahead of us, and as my son got close to where the sidewalk ends, my husband shouted, "Oscar! Wait for us, buddy!" But he didn't wait. He kept running. My husband's voice grew louder, and I joined him in a chorus of, "Stop! Wait right now!" But it wasn't until my Olympic runner of a husband chased him down that Oscar stopped. There was a stern tone of voice and serious faces exchanged, but my son got the message loud and clear—"Cars are dangerous. You have to listen. When we say stop, you stop, and yo...

Has there ever been a time in your life when a certain scent wafts past you and it stops you in your tracks? Like catching a whiff of the perfume your aunt used to wear or the aftershave that your grandpa once wore. Fragrance's that you haven't smelled since childhood. Aroma's from bygone years. Yet, when you catch that scent it takes you back in time, bringing a smile to your face and tears to your eyes. Scent is a powerful memory-maker. Nothing is more memorable than a smell. One scent can be unexpected, momentary and fleeting, yet conjure up a childhood summer beside a lake in the mountains. —Diane Ackerman That is one of the reasons I planted Monarda, also known as Bee Balm, in my garden. Yes. It draws butterflies, which I love, but, Bee Balm also grows wild along the creeks and little...

This beautiful blog is written by LuAnn's daughter, McKayla. She's wise beyond her age.  Choose him.To abide, pursue, and invite Jesus into your life is a choice we have every day. Similar to exercising and eating healthy, the decision to include Jesus in your daily life does not often have immediate transformation.Over time, the daily decisions of healthy nourishment and working out will begin to manifest physically. This is true with positioning spiritually also. Positioning is dire to the transformation to your heart and mind and to everything he wants to do through you. Renewing of your mind and the outflow condition of your heart comes with the small moments and decisions to pursue him in the day-to-day mundane. What if more days than not you were eating healthy and exercising? W...

This beautiful blog is written by our sweet friend Hannah Fordice. Read on be blessed dear readers. His hands are full of scratches and sawdust; they move smoothly down the planks, leaving a trail of deep, rich stain. You would never know that just a few months ago that same wood was stained in black ash and blood. When the house burned, it burned fast and hard. So fast in fact, that there was nothing they could do - how many times I heard that phrase - nothing they could do, nothing they could do, nothing they could do, until my ears rang with the sick sound of it. Nothing. No home. No dad. Nothing. As a lifetime went up in smoke, a crane had to move the largest, still burning logs to try and find his body in the coals. And those top logs - they are all that survived. And it wasn't a pret...