The Broken Piano

“Great musicians should have only the finest instruments in their homes.”

The caustic comment from the piano tuner who had curled up his nose at my old spinet piano has bothered me for fourteen years, though I’ve had a hard time figuring out why.

I thought maybe it was the man’s attitude when he entered my home. I had been desperately searching for a tuner willing to take on my pawn shop find but from the moment this guy laid eyes on it, his annoyed smirk told me the piano didn’t meet his criteria. Maybe it was the chipped places around its edges. Or perhaps the slightly yellowed keys. I don’t know. But before he even sat down to play it, he judged it and found it lacking. 

Looking over the brim of his glasses, he shot me a scolding glare. “You are a musician, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You should be asking me to tune a baby grand then. Or least a piano with some kind of merit. But this…,” he shook his head sadly, “this piano is not fit for a musician.”

He then launched into a sales pitch about the wonderful pianos he had for sale in his store and grew agitated when I wouldn’t bite. Needless to say, that was my one and only experience with that particular tuner.

Great musicians should have only the finest instruments in their homes…

I thought perhaps his statement bothered me because it was the lead in to his sales pitch. But no, that particular comment has circled around and around in my brain for fourteen years. It bothers me. It shouldn’t. That piano has been long gone and I haven’t seen that tuner since the day of his barbed comment yet it nags me. Why? broken piano keys

I finally figured it out.

Recently a friend sent me an email about a little boy who somehow escaped his mother at a prestigious concert hall and crawled up on stage plunking himself right next to a world renown pianist just before the man was beginning his concert.

boy at the piano

The little tyke clumsily tapped around on the keys before looking up to the famous pianist with a grin. The poor mother was horrified and jumped out of her seat, preparing to retrieve her wayward son but the pianist only smiled down at the little boy and begin to imitate the toddler’s finger strikes. Then something amazing happened.

As the little boy squealed with delight and pounded the keys harder, the pianist began to improvise melodies over the boy’s tapped notes. The entire audience was spellbound. When the little boy finally tired of the game, he hopped down and the musician stood and applauded him, causing the entire crowd to cheer and smile.

I love that story. And in a flash, I finally understood why that tuner’s comment bothered me.

Great musicians are not great because they have the finest instruments in their homes. They aren’t great because their fingers and ears are only trained for the best the world has to offer, or because they have sold X number of CDs or because they fill up concert halls. A real musician can make music out of the hardest situation. It doesn’t matter whether the keys are chipped, whether it’s a Bosendorfer or a dusty spinet, whether the action is smooth like honey or stilted, or even whether a little boy interrupts their Rachmaninoff moment.

The sign of a great musician is not in owning the finest instruments, but the ability to make the most broken instruments sing once more. broken keys

From this perspective, God is the greatest musician of all. He takes our broken strings, chipped edges, places His hands on those battered keys and coaxes out a song. A melody. An unspoken story. And the more broken the instrument, the more amazing His ability to make it sing.

Do you feel broken, chipped or used up? Don’t let the enemy’s lies discourage you. You are valuable and treasured. God doesn’t have a room full of glistening new grand pianos. He prefers the spinets.

Under his touch, they make the sweetest melodies.


The Seeing Blind

In this present darkness, most of us feel oppressed at every turn. We sense spiritual forces battling it out. Good versus evil. Angels versus demons. Light against shadows. We’ve been taught to be good soldiers for Christ. Take up our cross and fight. Fight for truth. Fight for our children. Fight, well, for everything.

boxing ali

Speaking the truth is always the right thing to do. We must speak what God has declared to be true, omitting nothing. But one thing most of us forget is this: truth never needs a defender. It stands on its own. That’s what makes it truth.

And as far as the cosmic battle goes? The war has already been won. Yet some of us speak and argue and live our lives like the outcome of the spiritual war depends solely on our own effort.

fight from victory

In the past few years, I’ve traveled to many churches, speaking and singing, sharing the transformative power Jesus has displayed in my life. One thing I’ve noticed is that far too many churches are pounding the horribleness of sin, which is true, but no mention is made of forgiveness for the sinner. We talk of the heartbreaking slaughter of millions of innocent babies through abortion, shake our heads and take up arms, yet how many women sit in the congregation silently bowing their head in shame because they were one of the scared souls who made a choice that has now haunted and scarred them forever?

We talk about staying away from vices like pornography and the foul decay it brings to our minds, while a teenage boy on the back row struggles with the images his brain refuses to erase…images he was forced to see by an abusive father who thought showing such things to his young son would ‘make a man out of him’.


Alcoholics and adulterers, drug users and ex-cons, the hot-tempered and misfits. They are desperately trying to hide their past. To fit in. To pretend it never happened. That the scars they wear are not visible still.

And while we’re busy shaking our fists at sin, and the world’s system, boycotting and ranting on social media about the very things Jesus told us the world would never understand, the hurting Jesus entrusted to our care are bleeding at our feet. And we don’t even notice. We’re so consumed with our righteous indignation, we’re blinded to the broken.

My personal opinion is this: generally speaking, the world should know us by what we’re for…not by what we’re against.

Please don’t misunderstand. This is not a call to stop fighting the good fight. Far from it. But in our zeal, may we be careful to keep compassion before campaigns. Truth should never trample love.

The gospel was never meant to shame the sinner. The gospel of Jesus is Good News. The God of the universe not only sees you, but outrageously, desperately loves you so much He died to make you His. This is a scandalous love. This is what we should be shouting through the streets. This is what we should be flooding through social media. This is the One Who can transform your life from broken to beautiful. Jesus.

In our lists of all the things that God is and what God does and doesn’t do, what He embraces and what He cannot, let us never forget this most beautiful, fundamental, and scandalous truth…the truth that all else rests upon: God is love.

ephesians 3

Rods and Staffs

God’s presence. How I long for it. There are days when I feel nearly desperate for it. For Him. In some ways, it’s an odd longing. Didn’t Jesus already promise He’s with me until the end of the age? (Matt. 28:20) Absolutely. He said His Spirit is living inside me as a deposit of the promises yet to come. (2 Cor. 1:22) Yet, there are days when I don’t always feel Him with me.

I’m not alone. When I googled “God’s presence” I racked up a whopping 37 million plus hits. If Jesus is with me and living inside me, why do I still struggle to find that heightened state of an awareness of His presence?

thaddaeus-lim-40018The chaos of living in a media-crazed culture certainly plays a part. The rush of schedules crammed too full of go-go-go make it worse. But digging deeper, I think these things are band-aids slapped on to hide a deeper problem. We keep ourselves drowning in noise because silence is too condemning. We let our busyness anesthetize us from the wounds and pain we have no desire to confront. We long for quiet. Every fiber of our soul screams for it, but we are, in equal parts, terrified of it. Why?

 Because sitting at the feet of Jesus requires change.

Since “presence” is my word for 2017, I’ve been giving it some study. In the Scriptures, God’s presence is mentioned as He led Israel from Egypt into the promised land.

13 Now therefore, I [Moses] pray you, if I have found favor in Your sight, let me know Your ways so that I may know You [becoming more deeply and intimately acquainted with You, recognizing and understanding Your ways more clearly] and that I may find grace and favor in Your sight. And consider also, that this nation is Your people.” 14 And the Lord said, “My presence shall go with you, and I will give you rest [by bringing you and the people into the promised land].” 15 And Moses said to Him, “If Your presence does not go [with me], do not lead us up from here.” ~Exodus 33 (AMP)

 God’s presence is also mentioned numerous other places, like Psalm 139:7-10.

rod and staffWhere can I go from Your Spirit?
Or where can I flee from Your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, You are there;
If I make my bed in Sheol (the nether world, the place of the dead), behold, You are there.
If I take the wings of the dawn,
If I dwell in the remotest part of the sea,
Even there Your hand will lead me,
And Your right hand will take hold of me. 

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the beautiful words of Psalm 23:4.

“Yes, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For you are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”

Here’s what I’ve noticed about these verses in regard to God’s presence. The majority of them revolve around adversity. Pain. Lengthening shadows and the mysterious unknown. Rejection. Abuse. Wounds. Betrayal. Grief and loss. But where pain abounds, His love abounds in greater measure. his love abounds

We tend to think of God’s presence as our quiet time when everything is picture perfect and quiet. The kids are behaving, things are going right for a change and we can have a little jam session with God. But it rarely works out that way. (At least, in my house.) broken piecesSitting, loving and living in the presence of God is much deeper. It’s coming to Him with all your messiness and broken pieces and laying them bare before Him. It’s giving Him full access to the shadowed places of your heart you’re ashamed for anyone else to see, and then gratefully basking in the knowledge that He loves you wildly, despite the mess.

Suffering requires us to relinquish something. A dream. A plan. A person. A place. Whatever it is, grief is involved. But there is beauty in our suffering when we learn to worship at the feet of Jesus, and say, “Not my will but Yours.”

Then His love moves in to fill the cracks where our hearts bleed.

Seeking a deeper walk with God is kind of like seeking humility. All of us want to be humble, but most of us don’t want to endure what it takes to get there.

Walking close to God may require a walk through the valley. “I will not fear. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me…” 3 nails

Keep your eyes fixed on the Shepherd. Trust Him with your messy, broken places. In His presence is healing. In His hands are love.

Drowning out Silence

Noise can be a drug.

It’s a numbing anesthesia, insulating us from pain and reality, a distraction that keeps us from looking too deeply at what haunts us most. We do the same with food, with shopping and debit cards, with possessions and degrees, with sex and alcohol, power, possessions, money, relationships, children…yet the more I consider the bombastic nature of our society, the more I believe noise has become the preferred drug of choice.


By noise I don’t mean only auditory transmission, but sensory overload. Cell phones are nearly sewn on to fingertips. Television shows and music can viewed and heard from nearly any technological device man has dreamed up. Itunes, radio, Youtube, podcasts, streaming…we are a culture saturated with more. Add to that long work days, running children to and from the vast array of extra curriculars they must be a part of in order to succeed as a human being (yes, that is a note of sarcasm you hear in my voice), runs to the drive-through, caring for aging parents, chasing sticky toddlers, sweeping up crushed Cheerios, swallowing down caffeine to keep up with it all, and then throw in church and several ministry projects, because, after all, Jesus comes first, right?

You would think we would crave silence. Yearn for it. Want it with every fiber of our being. Some do.

Yet, truth be told, for many of us, when we are given the option to sit in quiet and wait for God to speak, we reach for our cell phone instead. Rather than walking through a silent house, we turn on the television for some background noise. Instead of talking with our Father on the drive to work, we blast the radio as loud as we can because “music speaks to us”. Does it speak louder to us than God does? Why?

Please understand, there is no condemnation here, for I do it too. All the time. I’ve always loved it when my kids aren’t fighting and the day is calm, but I can’t say that I’ve always loved perfect quiet. There is a big difference between the two.

girl-in-fieldAm I saying noise is wrong? Absolutely not. And God speaks to us beautifully through sound—the rush of a waterfall, the cadence of nature, the laugh of a baby, melodies and rhythms—all of these are tremendous gifts. What I do wonder, however, is how often we use busyness and noise as a way to avoid having to deal with our wounds.

When the electricity goes out, the heat clicks into dead cold, when there’s no hum of currents running through the house, it’s an odd feeling. Quiet. Sudden. It feels as if something has been ripped away. Our natural inclination when something has been taken is to fill that space with something else. So when there is silence, we automatically want to replace it with something. Anything.

boy-hidingSilence, at times, can be terrifying. There’s no hiding. All those thoughts and fears we so successfully shove down during the busyness rise to the surface. There’s no escaping them. The screams of silence soon turn to condemnation and we find ourselves in a place of pain that we knew existed but never wanted to confront.

My friend, the pain you hide in private will eventually become what you wear in public. The noise, the distractions, are only patches that will work for a little while. Jesus is waiting in the silence. He wants to hold you and heal those cracked places in your heart. To be seen, truly seen, is scary, but He is safe. His grace is greater. He will not turn you away.

In the past few years I’ve learned I’ll never accidentally fall into a closer walk with God. It’s a deliberate choice to lay aside the distractions and noise and seek His presence. I try to take five minutes each day to sit in silence with Jesus. No hiding. Just being still. I’m treasuring this new time. Instead of the condemnation I used to pour on myself, I now hear Him whisper His love to my soul. be-still

He’s with me in the quiet and He’s present in the noise.

Do you like silence? Why or why not? What are ways you unplug from the busyness? Where do you hear God or feel His presence most clearly? 

The Little White Pill

Some days I loathe it. Other days I nearly weep with gratitude for it. Strange dichotomy.

Every time I look at that little white pill in my palm, I am overcome with an odd mix of emotions. pillWhen I was diagnosed with depression in 2002, I was desperate for relief from the dark shroud that had blanketed my mind and heart. A shroud I had brought on myself as I lived year after year stuck in the vicious cycle of people-pleasing and perfectionism. I had exhausted every resource to try to keep others happy, to win their approval and what I hoped would be their love. I was wrong. (This is not to say all depression stems from these issues. Depression is multi-faceted and has a wide array of causes and triggers. Check out my book Hollow Victory for a more in-depth look at depression.) hollow victory

When my doctor suggested medication to ease my physical symptoms, I balked. I was a Christian. Wasn’t medication a sign of weakness for a girl who claims to trust God? Perhaps I was still in denial. Maybe taking a pill would make the diagnosis much more real than I cared to admit. Confusion battered my mind and heart. I had heard well-meaning believers condemning others who sought medical help for their depression, throwing out their careless barbs and accusations with frightening speed.

“You should just trust God more.”

“You shouldn’t get down.”

“If you’ll read this scripture, you should feel better.

All those ‘shoulds’ and ‘shouldn’ts’ wreaked havoc with my peace of mind. That is, until God revealed this beautiful truth to my heart: grace is greater than all the times I fall short of the ‘shoulds’. I’m a mess but I don’t have to pretend to be something other than who I am. God knew I would fail in and of myself. That’s why He sent a Savior.

god's grace is bigger

Depression is just as physical as it is emotional and spiritual. Would we dare accuse a person with bad eyesight of “not trusting God” if he chose to wear glasses before slipping behind the driver’s wheel? Do we shun and disparage the diabetic for taking insulin? Or the heart patient for using beta blockers? Depression is no different. Serotonin and other chemicals are out of whack and need to be replaced.

Do I believe in gobbling down pills as the end all and be all? No, absolutely not. Taking medication allows me to deal with the physical symptoms as I lean on the Holy Spirit to reveal any emotional or spiritual issues that have become roots of trouble. And for some, there is no discernible cause for their depression. Bodies just don’t work like they are supposed to. We are living in a broken world with frail bodies. Eyesight fails. Thyroid levels fluctuate. Skin looses its elasticity. And yes, even Christians can get depressed. (Look at Elijah, David and Job if you don’t believe me.) depression not a terrible christian

Speaking for myself, I’m glad I listened and took the medication. My husband and children needed me at my best, not mere shadows of myself. It was a God-given tool to help ease physical symptoms and replenish my body of the chemicals it needed so I could focus on the work of discovering why I was depressed. Thanks to God’s gentle love, He tenderly revealed the wounds I carried inside and healed me in profound ways. He’s healing me still.

Fast forward to the present. I am in a much better place these days. My walk with God is vibrant. I know the warning signs of depression and have a proactive plan in place to combat the cycles that once pulled me down. So why can’t I function without that little white pill?

Last week, as I was bemoaning my dependency on it, I cried out to God in frustration. “Why? Why do I still need this? Why can’t I live and laugh without it? Must I forever carry the scars of 2002 with me?”

He spoke to me swiftly, His voice a gentle whisper as He impressed this thought into my heart. What if you no longer needed this medicine? Would you forget? Would you forget what I’ve brought you through? Would you forget what that black place feels like? Would you be able to help others struggling with the same issues if your heart grows numb to the pain you once suffered? Little One, this reminds you to be dependent on me. It keeps you from repeating the mistakes you once made, living to please people instead of seeking My heart. My grace is sufficient for you. My strength is made perfect in your weakness. weak and strong

I’m trying not to look at that little white pill as a chain any longer. It’s a tool, a reminder of the compassionate way He led me through the darkness to find hope and joy in Him again. Kind of like Jonah and his fish. Being swallowed by a fish wasn’t Jonah’s punishment for running away. No, that fish was grace. From the dark, sour confines of its belly, God captured Jonah’s attention and redirected his life into victory. Depression was my fish of grace.

Thank you, God, for Your mercy. For Your love. For being with me, even when I can’t feel You. I know You’re there—guiding, revealing and loving me, despite myself.

Sometimes, I still need reminding.

Have you battled a time of depression? What ‘shoulds’ have you heard about depressed Christians? How has God used something traumatic to catch your attention? What did you learn?


Oxygen Masks

Have you been burdened to do something big for God? Maybe you have a desire for ministry that is burning inside you. In this day and age, the opportunities are endless. Missions, human trafficking, homeless shelters, women’s or men’s ministries, Celebrate Recovery, pregnancy centers, prisons…the possibilities are exciting and dizzying. Thoreau said, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” We all long to matter. We all want to make an impact and somehow know that our lives will leave an eternal mark for future generations.

I have to say, though, many of us try to skip past the preparation time and instead run towards the ‘doing’. The problem with this is that we can never effectively help anyone else until we’ve worked through our own ‘mess’. You can’t give what you don’t have.

Think of it this way: flight attendants always tell you to put on your own oxygen mask before helping someone next to you. When I was younger and flew on a plane, I thought these instructions seemed harsh. If a four year old is gasping for breath, he needs oxygen first! But the issue is that you can’t help those smaller and weaker than you are if you are dead! You have to breath in that life-giving force yourself before being able to help others receive what they need.

oxygen mask

Are you struggling with hidden issues that you’ve pushed down for far too long? Insecurity, feeling unloved, people-pleasing, depression, addiction, grief, anxiety? What do you strive so hard to hide? My friends, we can never truly be healed, and help others, until we have brought those problems to the surface and exposed them to God’s healing light.

Our Father wants us to have a desire to help others and to live a life of loving, sharing and giving. But the honest truth is, until we let Him heal us too, we will never reach our potential that He’s created for us. Don’t be so intent on running ahead to ‘do’ that you miss the gift He wants to give you today. Strap on the oxygen mask!

Concrete Heart

Pinnacle Mountain State Park in Little Rock, Arkansas was a happening place to be yesterday. Everywhere I looked there were children, dogs, mothers and fathers, laughing friends, college students and the retired. It was a beautiful day to be outside.

There was also a lot of bickering, most of it coming from unwilling friends and family members being guilted into hiking to the peak of the mountain, a task that can seem a bit daunting when one looks up to see the top third of the mountain is nothing but boulders and scrub brush. The trail is marked by small tin signs numbering one through ten, a comfort when you finally see the ’10’ but a discouragement when you’ve barely passed a ‘1’ or ‘2’.

 pinnacle mountain

I had victoriously defeated my aching side and burning lungs to reach the top. On my way down and nearing the bottom, I heard a lady complaining to her friends, holding her ribs and gasping for air.

The hiker I have affectionately nicknamed Gasper groused, “Heavens, the air is so thin up here!”

Her friends scolded her, trying not to grin, “Marg, we haven’t even made it to marker one yet!”

She waved a dismissal hand and panted. “Nah, the air seems thin to me. I’d better stop.”  Her friends burst into gales of laughter and I found myself chuckling as well. Gasper had not even gone a tenth of a mile on a fairly flat trail. In fact, from her spot where she gave up, I could see the parking lot not ten feet below!

So was the air too thin? No. Unless a random person thinks Little Rock, Arkansas is the equivalent of the Rockies. Gasper could have easily made the climb. She looked healthy, fit and young. But she didn’t want to make the climb. It was obvious from the banter that she had been strong-armed into the adventure by her mountain-loving friends. She had already made up her mind that she couldn’t do it because, deep down, she really had no desire to do it.

Though Gasper made me giggle, her silly antics caused a moment of reflection. How often have I made excuses for my behavior? How often have I blamed others when fighting the heavy tug of a bad attitude? How often do we blame our mess on our families, our environment, our culture or our church? How many times have I thought, “You know, I would be a lot closer to the Lord if I wasn’t so ridiculously busy with my kids”? Or the ever popular, “This is just my personality. I can’t change it!”

Excuses and deceptions aside, here is what I have learned: I’m as close to the Lord as I want to be.

Did you get that? That one sentence, that one blaring truth will change your life if you let it. You are as close to the Lord as you want to be.

We tend to make time for things that are important to us. That’s the honest truth. Years ago, my manager said, “You have exactly what you want right now.” The scraping rawness of that statement slammed into me like a brick being thrown against an iron door. It’s true…convinctingly so.

We say we want to lose weight but when we refuse to stop eating chocolate and potato chips, we’ve made a choice. We want that food more than we want to be thin. We want to go to Disney world on vacation but we can’t seem to stop buying new clothes which keeps the financial cushion from swelling. We’ve made a choice. We want those clothes more than we want our dream vacation. We want to spend more time reading our Bibles but can’t seem to let go of checking our Facebook and Instagram accounts.

Do you see what I mean?

So when we feel unhappy or unsatisfied, somewhere along the way we’ve made a decision. We’ve traded God’s best for our own desires, a swap that always leaves us empty. We get it set in our minds that our circumstances are someone else’s fault, that we are powerless to change, that God couldn’t possibly use us, that our situation is hopeless…and on and on it goes. We replace God’s Word, His promises and His truth with a cold, muddy lie—like, freshly mixed concrete that fills our spirits, pushing everything else out.

Here’s the thing about concrete: the longer it sits, the harder it gets.

Maybe you’ve been told all your life that you’re worthless or a mistake. Perhaps you’ve been labeled by your family or coworkers as lazy, stupid or incompetent. Maybe you’ve been abused so long you think it’s what you deserve. Perhaps Satan has had such a hey day in your life that you think you’re beyond hope.

I’m as living proof to tell you that you’re none of those things. Stop believing the lies. You are not helpless. Through God’s transforming power, He can change you from the inside out. Sometimes it’s a painful process but the result is so worth it, a marked contrast like the difference between a worm and a butterfly.

Stop with the excuses. The air is not too thin for you up here on the mountain. If there are issues you need help with, demons to be fought, wounds that need to be healed, you’re not alone. I’m walking this journey with you.

You can change. God can transform you but we have to stop believing the lies and allow Him to replace those old thoughts with His truth. It’s an active participation with the Holy Spirit. Why else would He have given us so many promises in His Word about His ability to change the concrete heart if it weren’t possible for Him?

“Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.  Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” ~Romans 5:1-5

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” ~2 Corinthians 5:17

What excuses do you find yourself making? Do you feel ready to let them go and let God heal the wounds you’ve been hiding?

Pink Socks and Dust Bunnies

The florescent lights in my laundry room died several weeks ago. After unsuccessfully trying to fix the problem, my husband declared that it would take the work of our friend, a skilled electrician, to repair it. Days turned into weeks as my hubby forgot to call to set up the appointment. So here I am, enjoying the wonder of doing weeks of laundry in the dark. But you know something? It wasn’t too bad. I got used to it. Even comfortable, believe it or not…although many of our socks turned pink, but I digress.

I even got to the point where I enjoyed that shroud of darkness. It kept me from being annoyed by the constant messes left by my children. I couldn’t see the disaster left behind by my sloppy dogs as they ate and drank from their bowls. It was actually kind of pleasant. Granted, I couldn’t see a thing but I really didn’t know what I was missing in some ways.

A couple of days ago, the electrician came and repaired the lights. When he flipped the switch, my jaw dropped open. The filth that had accumulated in that short time was unbelievable. Dust bunnies, stray socks, spills from who-knows-where, smudges, mud from discarded shoes…I was horrified. I was finally able to clearly see and in doing so, wasted no time grabbing a mop, a bottle of ammonia and prepared to battle my enemy…filth.

grossed out

But isn’t that what happens to so many of us? We stuff down our wounds, our issues, our problems, our worries, our feelings and lock them away in the dark places of our heart where they can’t hurt us…or so we think. We even get comfortable pretending everything is clean and together. We move along thinking if we’ve hidden it, it doesn’t exist. But refusing to acknowledge reality doesn’t change reality.

It isn’t until we allow God’s light to shine on those hidden secrets and shames that true healing…or cleaning can take place. We have to be brave enough to expose them, to face them unflinching and determined. The difference it will make in your life will be transformational.

And you know what? After weeks of working in the dark, I leave the light on in the laundry room around the clock. I enjoy it. I can’t even imagine what I found comforting in the darkness to begin with. And I sure don’t want that filth to creep back in.

Now, what to do about these pink socks…