Take on Kindness Today.

Paper people holding handsToday I am thinking of things I am specifically thankful for.
What’s on your list?

I have the usual stuff – health, home, hubz, hunky man-children.  But also electric lights and curling irons, hot and cold running water on demand, and appliances that ease and expedite my life.  For moms and dads and cars that start.  For air conditioning and forced air heat.  I’m thankful that I live in a country that stands for freedom.  I can vote, continue my education and go to stores or movies without real fear of being blown up, hijacked or sold into slavery.

But my life has not been without tragedy. As a woman who has suffered loss, I will tell you it’s the kindness of friends and strangers alike that helped me make it through long seasons of sorrow. Most were followers of Jesus, but others were not.  All of them shared my burden of grief.  Their kindnesses helped make me well and whole and happy again.

And I am thankful.

Kindness is a universal language.  

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WHEN A PLAYBOY BUNNY JOINS BIBLE STUDY Guest post from Shannon Popkin

She wasn’t still a Playboy Bunny when she joined. But she wasn’t yet a regular Bible Study girl, either. She was climbing from one world into the other. And sometimes that’s tricky.

The Widow Wore Pink Hard Cover Book SmallEven though Robyn Dykstra is my friend, I hadn’t heard her story before I read her newly released memoir: The Widow Wore Pink. I never would have pictured her as a Playboy Bunny. I only knew her as a Christian speaker, a godly woman, and a kind friend.

It was so interesting (and also funny!) to gain her perspective, as she segued from her atheist/feminist/intellectual background into the world I’m far more familiar with–Bible study and church ladies.

Here’s an excerpt from one of my favorite parts of the book:

Jake’s head was on my shoulder, he was dry, fed and burped, well on his way to sleep. I had one hand on his perfectly shaped head and the other supporting his little bottom. Moonlight was cascading through the bedroom window, refracting off the snow and lighting the warm room in the quiet house. How does a woman like me end up here? I wondered. I have a husband who loves me, a fine house, and a healthy baby boy. 

It was exactly then that I heard the voice of God and he said, “Robyn, what are you going to tell your son about me?” The masculine voice spoke gently but with complete authority. There was no condemnation, but there was a question–and an answer was required.

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What do you do when your past tries to hijack your future?

I came face to face with my past this morning.

In an effort to purge items in my closet that didn’t fit my style anymore, or to be perfectly honest, didn’t fit my mature, more generously padded frame anymore, I stumbled across two of my dead husband’s favorite shirts.

It stopped me in my tracks.

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