I lift up my eyes to the mountains—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.
Friend to Friend
Some of my earliest memories include hymns, with my mom sitting at the black upright piano in our den. She’d tuck me into bed with a lyrical blessing, long fingers tickling my back, then she’d walk down the hall and tickle the ivories. Amazing Grace, What a Friend We Have in Jesus, It is Well with My Soul, Great is Thy Faithfulness… wafting up into the rafters, serenading me to sleep.
Forty years later, and the same melodic truths my mother sang into my sub-consciousness come playing through my mind from time to time. During seasons of depression, they serenade me still. When anxiety threatens, they lull me back to sleep like a lullaby. And in joyful times ofRead More