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An invitation to the women of Solid Rock

I believe most women love learning. I'd even go as far to say that most women, who follow Jesus, enjoy feeling their spirits sore while learning more about Him and His Kingdom.

There's something about studying the Scriptures with the purpose of getting to know our Yahweh together that ignites followers of Jesus!

I just love gleaning wisdom from those that know the Scriptures well and share perspectives on passages that I have never heard.

2 Timothy 2v15 comes to mind which says, "Be diligent to present yourself approved to God as a workman who does not need to be ashamed, accurately handling the word of truth."

As women of Solid Rock, I know you as well as I want to know the truth well.

If this is you, if this is true, let me tell you about four up-coming opportunities you will love!

The House of Learning of Solid Rock is inviting you to four separate Saturday Seminars.

These Saturday Seminars will be free of charge!

They will be taught by Bill Mounce, George Guthrie, Darrell Bock and Craig Blomberg--all of whom are leading authors and experts in their respective fields and will be presenting all the way from biblical translations to the historical Jesus.

The dates are April 13, May 4, July 13, September 14.

On April 13th from 9:00am - 12:00pm at Solid Rock Westside, we are bringing in Dr. Bill Mounce (President of www.biblicaltraining.org and a Western Seminary Professor) to do a seminar titled "Why are Bibles so different?: Learning about translations and the texts behind the English."

I hope you can make it,

Sign up here! (no childcare provided)

Grace & peace,

Kristi Administrative Assistant Solid Rock

On the Sunday after Phil broke up with me, I slipped into church reluctantly. I knew he’d be there, on the platform leading worship. I knew I would cry, unable to hold back the grief at the loss of the life I’d dare to dream of. 

I wanted to be strong but I wasn’t. Wanted to be cool and remote, but my red nose and swollen eyes wouldn’t fool anybody.  And so I tried to avoid anyone I might know by finding a seat in the back corner, as near the exit doors as possible.

All my fears and feelings of inadequacy and fakery and not-good-enough-ness kept my shoulders slumped and my head down. I wanted to believe what I’d been taught, that God had a wonderful plan for my life. But how was this wonderful?

What I hadn’t factored in was a redeeming Savior and His relentless pursuit of a woman who needed to know Him in a way that would fill up all those achingly empty places in my soul.

All I remember about that morning was the words of the hymn we sang:

My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness,

I dare not trust the sweetest frame, but wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand, All other ground is sinking sand,

All other ground is sinking sand.

Every word sank deep. Soothing, true, hope-filled. This was what I was longing for, what I needed. A hope built on One who would love me always, no matter what. 

Could it possibly be true? With all my less-thans, all my pretending to be better than I was, could I learn to wholly lean on Jesus’ name?

It was a theme that would echo over and over again in my life. That when dreams die and wishes don’t come true, when things happen that I don’t want and when I can’t make the hurt go away, Jesus is there...

Really there.

I went home elated. Fully surrendered, ready for whatever God had for me. I wanted more of Him. I wanted to be able to sing the last verse and mean it…

When He shall come with trumpet sound, Oh, may I then in Him be found;

Dressed in His righteousness alone, Faultless to stand before the Throne.

Something significant happened deep inside me that day. In losing something I wanted, I gained more of what I needed. 

A deeper trust.

A greater intimacy. 

A new sense of adequacy.

I was just beginning on my journey to finding Grace.

And even though I said I would finish our story today, I just can’t. Not yet. It would seem not right to tack a happily ever after ending right here.

I knew our break-up was final. Phil didn’t need space, he needed peace. And I was powerless to put that peace in his heart. It was over.

The real story is that God met me here in this broken place.

And so I’ll just have to tell you the rest next week…

And then we can get started on why I wanted to start this series in the first place.

Until then, thanks for listening,

From my heart,

Diane

This Saturday, November 3^rd, the women of Solid Rock are going to gather together to hear the message on the heart of a young woman I greatly admire. After a lovely light breakfast, I’ll be introducing you to Joy Eggerichs, who leads a ministry called Love and Respect NOW.

With humor and stories and life applications, she delves into the Scriptures in order to illuminate that hard-to-see path through the messiness of real life relationships.

You are not going to want to miss this!

Bring your best friend, your sister, you mom, your teenage daughter.

Let’s learn and laugh and figure out how to do this, girls!

I’ll be there in the front row with my notebook ready to catch all the wisdom I can.

Won’t you join me?

From my heart,

Diane

HERE IS WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW:

WHEN: Saturday, November 3rd, 2012

TIME: 9AM - 11AM

WHERE: SR Westside, video venue

COST: $5 at the door

*no childcare provided

My goals is that they will be encouraged and knit together by strong ties of love.  

Colossians 2:2

NLT

Twenty-one months ago a group of women from Solid Rock set out together for Haiti.

While there we did life together in the grimmest of circumstances. And we found both friendship and joy in the midst of all that devastation.

Our hearts were knit together in ways I'd never experienced before with women-- ever. And those ties remain all these months later. In fact, we've been calling each other "The Sista's" ever since, our need for this kind of sisterhood connection transcending ages, stages of life, interests, anxieties.

This week a few of us met for a picnic. I thought I'd stay and hour and get back to work. I stayed 2 1/2 hours, cramming in last minute talk right up to the parking lot and last round of hugs. Once again I found courage with these women. They believe in me, want the best in and for me. We champion each other's dreams and as you'll read in this story, even clean each other's bathrooms…

From my heart,

Diane

repost from 2.18.11

“…Love never fails…”

I Corinthians 13:8

Something horrible happened to me the other day, and it was my fault.

Like I do with lots of people every Sunday, I introduced myself to a woman who stood waiting near the front. Nothing remarkable about her. Brownish hair, smallish frame, an ordinary woman on an ordinary day in the midst of ordinariness.

She looked at me a little odd.

I chattered on about the weather, the cold, how long had she been going to Solid Rock? Ordinary stuff.

Her lip started to quiver just a tad- no drama, just a barely perceptible hint of hurt. Her eyes filled.

Worried, but still basically clueless, I asked for her name and told her mine, holding out my hand, being all nice… and normal.

That’s when she finally fell apart.

And that’s when I finally saw her.

Just two weeks before, this ordinary woman had taken extraordinary risk and opened her hidden hurts to me. Real hurts about bad things. Pain unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. Raw suffering.

I’d taken her into my arms and prayed for her… walked away with the promise to pray some more. Then trotted off into my ordinary world with ordinary pressures and promptly forgot.

How could I do that? What does that say about me? Don’t I care?

Over and over I’ve berated myself for that day. Hoping to hear the Father excuse me. Wanting Him to cover my callousness with nice words like, “How can you expect to remember everyone you meet? With all these people crowding this place, no one can be friends with every one. At least you try.”

But all I hear is the echo of her loneliness.

The truth is I don’t really love her. Not enough.

If it had been my sister pouring her story into my lap, I’d have hung on every word…prayed every day… searched for words from the Word to bring her hope and courage and truth.

Instead I forgot. I moved on. Another troubled soul in a world of wounded women. Ordinary.

The truth is my love is really thin. Meager. Miserly. Sometimes it doesn’t last longer than an after-church conversation and a quick prayer.

I say I love. I want to love. I even feel love.

But…love doesn’t forget the sorrows of a woman weeping in my arms.

Love doesn’t just step over someone’s wreckage and move seamlessly into ordinary. Not real love. Not Jesus love. Not the kind of love that hung on a Cross and bled for that woman.

And so today, instead of berating, I confess it. Out loud. With all of you listening in, I admit that I am a failed lover. My heart is still, after all these years of listening, not even close to being like His.

And there’s not a thing I can do about it. I know full well that I can’t make it a goal or cross it off a list or drum it up or name it and claim it and call it my own.

But He can. And now that I know what He knows, I can let Him. Because He has this crazy way of making me like Himself just when I get a glimpse of who I really am.

Its called love… wild, beautiful, stick-to-it, passionate love that changes me into someone who actually, really, honestly loves back. And who never forgets again.

From my heart,

Diane

Is He teaching you something similar?

Today we have a guest post from a young woman whose transparent search for meaning and value led her to discover her own unique beauty. And since in just a few days the women of Solid Rock will be gathering together to study what the Scriptures have to say about beauty, I thought her story might just resonate with you as it has with me.

At the end of her story, Lauren throws out a few questions that beg answers. Will you take a moment to talk to us, to tell us where you are on your own search for beauty? And then will you come along with us this Saturday morning on the Westside and Saturday evening Downtown to talk some more? I can hardly wait to share with you what I've been learning and how God has surprised me with His wisdom and His reasons for creating His beauty in each of us.

From my heart,

Diane

I couldn’t have been more than six. I stood in the bathroom mirror, close enough for my nose to fog up the glass, questioning God. I stared so deep into my own eyes it almost made me dizzy. I searched my hair, my eyebrows and lips for signs that would tell me the future.  What would I look like in a few years and who would I be?

I saw the girlish face staring back at me, the downy hair and soft skin, unblemished by time. What I really wanted to know is what I would be admired for, good at or even proud of? What would define me at 16?  I couldn’t wrap my mind around the immensity of that age. Though I knew the numbers carried significance, they seemed light years away.

After realizing that I could not will myself an answer from staring intently into the mirror, I walked away. But I did not abandon the questions that lingered there.….

As I arrived at the intersection of adolescence and adulthood sometime around early middle school, I looked to my peers to define my self-worth. But as it turns out, middle school kids have ruthless whims of both acceptance and rejection.

And if you were anything like me during this life stage, being “thin” wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Having a slight figure for most of my life, I’ve still often accused my body for being “wrong.” Somehow in this culture, it is acceptable to be ridiculed and picked apart for being too skinny, and I weathered enough off-colored comments in my middle school years to know it! Chicken legs; bobble head; money arms.

Turns out my gangly limbs weren’t near enough coordinated to cut a good softball swing or to make a basket, which only resulted in further embarrassment in front of my peers. I just couldn’t do it right. I was an artistic kid, writing journals and illustrated books since kindergarten.

As my peers steadily excelled in athleticism, I felt goofy and left behind. My 7^th grade year is about the time I wanted to hide under the bleachers in avoidance of gym class, consumed with nervous energy even at the thought of others noticing how awkward I was in my mesh gym shorts and oversized tee shirt.

Not to mention that middle school is the place where once nice girls suddenly turn mean. It was a well established understanding in my heart by then that I didn’t have “it” whatever “it” was and one girl in particular let me know it. I recall being in art class, my favorite hour of the day, only to hear her persistent mocking over my shoulder at every detail I added to the page. She hated me, and I wasn’t even sure why.

The other girls chimed in on their way back to class, giggling and glancing back at me as I walked alone.  Nothing can diffuse the budding self-confidence of a girl more than this kind of treatment. I wanted to win their approval so desperately, but at the same time protect myself from being utterly demolished by their expectations. Nothing I did was right. Why couldn’t I do it right?

That question plagued me, and I’m sure countless other girls, even the ones that made fun of me. Maybe for someone else it wasn’t sports, it was not having a date to the dance, or being responsible for the odd, dysfunctional family that embarrassed them at parent teacher conferences. Either way, it’s unfortunate that sometimes these kinds of bad experiences can shape our hearts to long for the affection of others before seeking our Heavenly Father, who loves us unconditionally.

High school years were looking up for me as I transferred schools to the neighboring town to gain more from their larger academic offerings and best of all, to enter their competitive dance program. Jazz, Ballet and Hip Hop classes was the air I breathed five days a week, and I found a self-confidence bursting forth on stage that never materialized with a ball and mitt.

I was so relieved to finally be good at something, to escape the tyrannical scrutiny of that girl clique that had poked lies into my heart for so long. I was rid of their voices, and danced my skinny body to its delight! It turns out my long limbs were shaped for the graceful turns and pliés of a dancer, not the rough upending of dirt and grit of sliding into home base.

Sometimes, we are critical of the bodies God has given us before we understand how he wants us to use them. I always think of that time in my life when I truly believed that God made me more insufficient than my peers simply because I couldn’t catch a softball. And all of these thoughts were sadly contingent on what other’s thought of me, or what the bible terms: “the fear of man.”

It has taken me forever to get over these doubts that began in middle school. It would be a lie to say that I have hit rock bottom on my list of insecurities. They keep coming out in ways I don’t expect them to! But you know, one thing is for certain. That when Jesus saw me in that secret, wonderful, mysterious hiding place before the day of my birth, he smiled and knew exactly what he was doing!  As the Psalmist proclaims:

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

He is one that guards our hearts, jealously desiring that we seek his approval before anyone else has the chance to get in and make a mess of our hearts. Sufficient to say, it has taken a long time to grasp my beauty and individuality as something God designed and adored since the day of my birth.

I only wish I could’ve seen into the future that day in the mirror, to assure myself that despite a few disgruntled peers and my failure in athletics, that someday God would have me return to a middle school building, but this time as a teacher for an after school dance program where I would boost kids confidence with a little music and let them shake out their silly side. I wish I could’ve seen me grinning from ear-to-ear, leaving the stage after my first choreographed solo performance as a senior in high school.

I believe He wants all of us to ask Him this simple question: what would you make of this life Lord? What do you long to purpose with these limbs, however unfit, or these teeth however crooked? What message of hope would you like to come out of my mouth? What God –honoring work do you have for my hands to find?  I would love to hear your own stories of coming to find your passion, wherever your awkward stage might have fallen in the timeline of your life. As for me, I praise the Lord that middle school is over, and I have a feeling that I’m not alone!

Lauren

For the past several weeks, in between some great Love Stories, we’ve been taking a fresh look at four reasons for marriage… and four questions to ask yourself while looking for The One… and four areas, which must align in your relationship in order to make a marriage great. We’ve talked about the pillar of Friendship…and the importance of Mission…about Sexuality and how our choices in this area affect just about everything…

And today I want to talk about the forth pillar that lays a strong foundation for a vibrantly God-honoring marriage.

FAMILY

Right at this moment I am sitting three feet away from three of the most important people in my life. Their names are Jude, Moses, and Duke…my grandboys. They’re cuddled up in a ragtag assortment of love worn blankets watching Baloo the Bear dance across the screen in The Jungle Book.

(Jude)

(Moses)

(Duke)

These boys think I can do no wrong. They beg to come to my house, obey me better than their parents, believe everything I say and basically fill my life with more love and affection than I ever thought possible. And in just a couple of weeks I’m going to get two granddaughters to add to this rich tableau.

If that isn’t enough to convince me of the richness of my life with Phil for these past 33 years, I just have to look at the messages on my phone: John Mark telling me I’m just the greatest, Tammy asking for wisdom, Rebekah confiding her heart in me, Elizabeth asking me to join her in a shopping spree, and Matt wondering what time I’m planning dinner and can he bring a friend?

My life couldn’t be fuller. Or better. Or richer.

When Phil and I fell in love we didn’t know much more about being parents than that we wanted to raise our children to love God passionately.

We had no idea how, no clue what to do.

But we set out on a search for wisdom that soon became our center message. Together we read and asked questions and sought counsel and prayed and searched the Scriptures.

We made sacrifices and so did our kids.

We made mistakes and so did our kids.

But under Phil’s leadership and love our family thrived, our marriage became bigger than just us, and our ministry came to encompass a whole bevy of gifted individuals who are now leading their own families in the way of the Kingdom.

And it all started with a vision. And a prayer. And just the tiniest hope that maybe God could do something with us— something magnificent, something world changing.

It was 1981 and we were living in a dingy rental home near Multnomah University while Phil went to grad school. I had a six-month-old baby, no family nearby, no friends, no car, and no money. But just down the street was a fabulous used bookstore in the basement of a decrepit old house. One day while I was perusing the musty shelves for something to read, I stumbled upon an out of print book that changed my whole view of parenthood. With the unfortunate title of, “Marriage to a Difficult Man”, I’m sure Phil must have wondered what in the world was up with me! But this was a biography of one of America’s most influential theologians, Jonathon Edwards.

Towards the back of the book, the author had listed the impact that Jonathon and Sarah Edwards’ family had had on the history of our nation. Generation after generation of men and women of tremendous influence whose mission became bringing the Kingdom into the world in which they lived.

There were politicians and pastors and missionaries and culture changers. Artists and policy makers and ambassadors and even a Vice-President of the United States.

I was blown away.

Two painfully ordinary people who were used by God to affect extraordinary influence on the world.

And we wanted to do the same.

You see we’d come to know the Lord so late in life that the first many years were spent just figuring out what it meant to be Jesus followers. We assumed that our direct impact would be less than spectacular.

But we knew our children would have a different story. And so God put it on our hearts to pray for and work towards and make it our mission to raise up a generation of Jesus followers who would love Him and know Him and be equipped to serve Him in ways far beyond our own limited capacities.

And He did.

Crazy.

John Mark serves Him as lead pastor of Solid Rock. Rebekah and her husband Steve are bringing light and joy and hope right there in the middle of L.A.’s design culture. Elizabeth is pouring into her children and partnering with her husband who is a pastor. Matt spends his days studying theology so he can be equipped for the mission God calls him to.

And we all have huge flaws and embarrassing tendencies. Sin and Satan crouch at the door waiting for us to mess up, just like everyone else.

We do fail, we will fail.

But our family has chosen to hide in the shelter of a Redeemer who uses even people like us.

And now the next generation of passionate Jesus followers are being trained… what will they be? And do? Will their names someday be listed in the back of an out of print book in an obscure bookstore?

Phil and I have chosen to give our lives to this crazy Comer family of ours.

Together.

Because with Phil leading and me serving and both of us praying and talking and working and loving and doing hard things, we have formed something beautiful. Something important.

And that, my dear friends, is one incredibly valuable reason for marriage.

And one incredibly important reason to choose carefully.

From the heart of a grateful woman,

Diane

Hi! My name is Kaitlynn, and I am so excited to share my love story with you...

I gave my heart to the Lord seven years ago at the age of 19. God saved me out of a life entrenched in sin and darkness and brought me into HIS marvelous light. I was living in Hawaii at the time when the Lord wanted me to move back to Beaverton, a place that I definitely did not want to return to considering this is where I grew up and had moved away from on purpose. I had left my old life behind and was coming to the same place to start fresh.

When I moved back here I started going to Solid Rock. I was instantly home, I felt so loved, welcomed and embraced, like I belonged. I thrived, grew and started to heal. I was like a hungry newborn needing to eat every hour. I was going to church on Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays and soaking up all the Lord was pouring on to me. I was new.

I started to make the best of friends and loved being a part of The Way, which was the college age ministry at the time. I never considered dating or even liking anyone because I knew Gods heart for me at the time was to find and learn who I was in Him first, there was also lots of healing to be done. He was showing me how to love Him with all my heart, soul, mind and strength.

As time passed and I had begun to grow firm roots in Jesus, I was ready and started to date this guy, who is wonderful, and godly. Our relationship was pure and fruitful, but he just wasn't right for me. By Gods's grace it didn't work out. It was so healthy for me to have had that experience and I share this with you because I know a lot of people when they experience a relationship that doesn't end in marriage they see this as a failure. I didn't. That relationship set a standard for me that I knew I couldn't go below. For that I am GRATEFUL.

In the summer of 2007, I was focusing on school and an upcoming missions trip to India. There were amazing people from the church on the trip and a few of them had just begun dating. Those relationships looked different. Something about them was so natural, easy, just perfect, like you were watching God write their love stories in front of your eyes…I wanted that. Not in an impatient way, but a 'lay it down at the feet of the Lord' kind of way. I specifically prayed for that: to have it be quick, perfect, certain and so from God there was no mistaking it.

I came back from India with a freshness and excitement. I was content. I didn't want anything except deeper intimacy with Jesus and dating was honestly the last thing on my mind.

One night at The Way as I was listening to the teaching and taking notes, he caught my eye. This handsome, unfamiliar face that I couldn't stop glancing at… I was so distracted.

At church, I became aware of where he was in a room, and I would suddenly "find myself" in the same area as him or talking with the people around him. I was so surprised by how he affected me. Every little exchange we had would would knock the wind out of me. I was so embarrassed every time I got to talk to him because I was sure he could tell how nervous I was.

One Friday night, there was late worship after The Way. I was really tired and probably should have gone straight home afterwards; instead I went over and started talking to a group of people, which he happened to be in. I was going out on a friends boat the next day and I thought I should invite him. So I turned to face him, while someone else was talking, and singling him out I blurted, "Do you want to come out on my friends boat tomorrow?"

Silence…

He asks, "Um, sure. Well who should I call?"

"Oh you can call me…"

I wanted the words back in my mouth, SO BAD.

This may not seem like that big of a deal, but let me clarify by saying I am shy, and would never have: A) invited a guy I barely know to go anywhere, and B) given out my phone number to a guy I have a crush on with out him asking.

While this awkward dialogue is happening externally there is an internal dialogue where I am yelling at myself to STOP. I quickly redacted with, "Wait, let me give you my friends number instead…"

More silence… Then someone else started talking, and he never asked for the number. So I slipped out of there as fast as I could, trying not to think about what had just happened.

The next morning before boating I went to breakfast with a friend, telling her all about the "incident". We were laughing hysterically and then my phone rings with some random number…

"Hello"

"Hi Miss, this is Ryan Wesley Peterson..."

I was shocked: he got my number somehow and ended up coming out on the boat. The whole time we were staring at one another, just awestruck by the other. My friend teases me still about that day on the boat because of how gaga we were.

So we started to talk and spend time together. He was perfect to me.

Ryan was playing in a touring band at the time and was frequently out of town so in the beginning, before we "officially" started dating, we spent a lot of time on the phone. We would talk for hours about everything. I have never been able to talk to anyone like that. He came into town and asked me out on a date. On October 2nd 2007, we had our first date. He picked me up and we walked all over Portland, talking, laughing, going on little adventures. It was cold but I didn't notice. We went to the Ace hotel and snuck up onto the fourth story fire escape and talked forever. Our date lasted something like 10 hours.

Everything was so… EASY. On october 4th, Ryan asked me to be his girlfriend and the next day he left for a two month long tour.

For those two months we learned about each other over phone, email, and iChat. I saw that he was a man that pursued and loved God with all his heart. His life reflected that. He was the first person I met that truly had a servants heart. I was so impressed by his character the more I got to know him. He was someone I looked up to, respected and wanted to follow. I was falling in love. Sometime during mid-november he became a little distant, the emails started to become sparse and phone chats weren't as long. My 22nd birthday was the 14th and he didn't really mention it so I convinced myself that I was about to be broken up with.

Two days later I got a HUGE box in the mail, and as I opened it I cried… It was filled with 22 different gifts specifically picked out to show that He knew me. He had studied me. Each item came with a page long hand written letter explaining the item and what it meant. The packaging he used to keep everything safe was a hundred pages with "Im crazy about you" written over and over. He KNEW me.

Right then and there, with tears on my cheeks, I knew Ryan was my husband. I wrote in my journal that night, " I want a love story written by Love Himself. I love him, I am crazy about him. I would marry him if You led and he asked. Thank you Father for your sweet grace and your love for me through Ryan."

He came home for thanksgiving and told me he loved me. I loved him back.

On April 1st he asked me to marry him on that same fourth story fire escape at the Ace hotel.

On July 26th 2008, The day I became his wife, I wrote these scriptures in my journal:

"The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain. She does him good and not evil all the days of her life." Proverbs 31:11-12.

"So they are no longer two, but one flesh. What therefore God has joined together let no man separate" Matthew 19:6

"You shall fear the Lord your God; you shall serve Him and cling to Him, and you shall swear by His name. He is your praise and He is your God, who has these great and awesome things for you which your eyes have seen." Deuteronomy 10:20-21

In November of 2010, God gave us the sweetest gift: our son, Truman.

And now we have another little one on the way!

Ryan is the answer to my prayers. He covers me the way that Jesus does. He sees me as new and God has used him as a part of my redemption, and continues to use Him. He is my best friend, my lover and the most special surprise of my life. A covering of grace. As with the others, God wrote our love story (I know that there is no possible way I could have). I am so thankful for Ryan and for our life together. We are continuing to learn about one another and grow together. We have been married for almost four years and I fall more in love with him, I deeply respect who he is. I discover more each day that he is  what I need. Our marriage is filled with times of bliss and joy and fun and times of sharpening, failing, repenting and learning. We are by no means perfect but I know that we are growing more in God's likeness.

Waiting for the person you marry looks different for everyone. Some people get married young, some when they are older. Some people date and marry one person. Some date a few before they get married. Some people don't get married. Everyone comes from unique walks of life. So of course, all the stories of waiting, falling in love and getting married and living life look different. When it is right, the common thread is that God is Author. And in the waiting for the desires of your heart, it is vital to allow Him to prepare you, learning to find satisfaction in Jesus alone.

"Wait and hope for and expect the Lord; be brave and of good courage and let your heart be stout and enduring. Yes, wait for and hope for and expect the Lord." Psalm 27:14

Kaitlynn