The early June weather was acting like an unloved child putting on its best behavior in a last-ditch attempt to win the love of a parent.
People were fragile. You couldn’t count on them not to die.
God had taken away the summer sun, but now He’d provided something fresh and beautiful in its own way. The snow of winter. A new season had come.
You don’t fully know yourself and what you’re capable of until you’re faced with the worst. The worst shows you who you are.
Perhaps she’d been so bent on protecting herself from the improbable that, somewhere along the line, she’d stopped believing in the miraculous.
She’d fill her coffee cup in the morning and remember the way he’d extended those confounded tissues to her at the top of the stairs. “I told you I’d have them ready,” he’d said. Who did that? Who carried around tissues for a woman they hardly knew, just in case she got teary. The tissues were to blame, she’d decided, for the turn her heart had taken. It was all, all, ALL the tissues’ fault!
Fierce scars suited warrior princesses.
Bo glanced at Meg, who’d frozen in place, almost too afraid to move lest Jayden start back in on the screaming. “I’m winging it,” Bo said to her. “You’re a magician. Thank God you’re here.” Bo winked at her. Saint Bo, a man christened with the miraculous ability to gentle horses, nervous women, and one-year-olds.
I’m so sorry. Don’t cry.” “You are good enough.” “Shh. Please don’t cry. I’m so sorry. Here.” She opened her eyes to see him pull a tissue from his jeans. He handed it to her and she used it to press away her tears. He carried tissues around in his pockets for her, even on nights when he had no expectation of seeing her. Despite his attempts to convince her otherwise, he was one of the best, most worthy, most deserving men she’d ever met.
I always have been, am, and always will be undeniably yours. – Bo.
She wanted one last peek at him. No, she shouldn’t – She had to. Couldn’t resist. Meg glanced back and found him standing exactly where he had been, stock-still, watching her. He tipped the front of his hat. Oh, cowboy, she thought. What in the world am I going to do with you?
If you walk a mile in my shoes, you’ll end up at a bookstore.
The uncertainty,” Sadie Jo agreed. She reached across the table and covered Meg’s hand with her own. “I don’t think the Lord lets any of us get through life without some seasons like that. Otherwise, how would He grow our faith?” She squeezed Meg’s hand. “Faith is moving ahead in obedience, dear. Just moving ahead one step at a time, trusting Him, until He shows you what’s next. He’ll make it clear to you eventually. Sure as anything.
Luke. Your faithlessness doesn’t affect God’s faithfulness at all. Not at all. He is faithful. Always. That’s part of His character. You believed in Him when you were young. Which means, when you ask for forgiveness, He forgives you. Period.
Luke certainly did spell trouble for Finley. It’s just that he was the most tempting brand of trouble. Delicious, irresistible, intriguing trouble.
Some things might have gone wrong on that day, but you weren’t one of them.
I don’t want you to need me. I want you to choose me.
From his earliest moments, Luke’s worst fear had been his own worthlessness.
His devotion to her was a storm within. Life-changing. Steadfast. Stronger than hardships or time.
If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, nothing will be impossible for you.
The best thing that could have happened to him had been God’s answer to a prayer he’d never prayed.