ARTICLES BY COLLEEN CHAO
As the new year dawns, none of us has any idea what lies ahead. Many of our days will unfold quite differently from how we’ve planned them, and we will be reminded of how little we actually control in this life. But for the child
Think of that wonderful truth that God came here in human flesh and blood, and…died a cruel death upon the tree. Turn that over and over again… Think over all the details of it; accustom yourself to look towards God in Christ Jesus in your
I’ll admit: the holiday season can put me on edge. But this year it’s not just the frenzy of festivity that looms large on the horizon. The countdown to this election is a wee bit stressful as well. Can I get a witness? So this past week
I’m exhausted. To the marrow of my bones, I am spent and weary. A few days ago, I drove up a winding hill, fresh after fall’s first storm, alone in my car; and the tears started. They were longing to spill out before Him, to
I was 31 and it was Christmas Eve when we had The Talk. Everyone thought we were the perfect match. So even though I put on a happy face, my heart reeled as he told me we should “just be friends.” We wished each other a merry
This Sunday, you will not be far from my thoughts, dear one. With every fiber of your being you long to be a mom. You were made for motherhood, and everything within you cries out against your barrenness. I remember. I was 35 when I
For years I religiously observed a late-December ritual of journaling my hopes and goals for the New Year. It was an ambitious, idealistic list, but even so, it was written out of great faith. With all my heart I believed God would show up in
Think of that wonderful truth that God came here in human flesh and blood, and…died
I’ll admit: the holiday season can put me on edge. But this year it’s not just
I’m exhausted. To the marrow of my bones, I am spent and weary. A few
I was 31 and it was Christmas Eve when we had The Talk. Everyone thought we were
This Sunday, you will not be far from my thoughts, dear one. With every fiber
For years I religiously observed a late-December ritual of journaling my hopes and goals for
