Today’s Always Uplifting Verse and Devotional to start your day off right!

Revelation 21:4 “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Now listen—I was not sitting around in sackcloth and ashes waiting on Prince Charming to ride up in a pickup truck. I was thirty-nine and career bound. I had a good life. I paid my bills, planned vacations, and had great friends.

But for as long as I could remember my mom always dreamed about my wedding day. I know she meant well, and she was praying for grandkids. But I was not ready for my Big Fat Greek Wedding quite yet.

Fast forward six years, and there I was, in lace and lipstick, about to experience my own happily-ever-after. But my heart was broken. No. Livid.

I knew Mom was supposed to live to be 120 or at least until Jesus would come back down in the clouds. So how was it possible that cancer could take her from this world before my wedding day? She never smoked, did aerobics faithfully, and only ever ate health food.

So, before I could say my country nuptials, I walked down by the pond, sat on the dock, and just stared at the water. I tried to remember what her voice sounded like. I tried to picture her smile.

But all I could do was whisper, “You were supposed to be here.”

The wind didn’t answer, and the skies didn’t part, but deep down, I knew I was not alone. I sensed the nearness of God—not fixing it, not explaining it—but sitting right there beside me.

Family, I would never have written the story this way, but I am learning that God can be trusted with pages that feel torn and unfinished.

There is a whole lot in this life that won’t ever feel fair, but I believe with everything in me that God still knows what He is doing. One day, we will see it all made right, but until then, He is able to redeem even our deepest pain in ways we never expected.

 He sees what we’ve lost. He holds what we cannot. If all you can do today is breathe and believe He’s still good, start there. There is healing, even now, and He is not through yet.

Numbers 6:24–25 “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you.”

It started with a simple desire. I just wanted my boys to know, deep in their bones, that they are loved.

We were standing in the kitchen. Life was moving fast, and like most families, we were living in the blur of busy. But that day, I paused and looked at Jesse, then Jon David, and said, “Let’s try something.”

I asked them to look at me—to really look me in the eyes. I held their gaze for a moment and simply said, “I love you.”

You know, that kind of vulnerable honesty takes people off guard, especially teenage boys. They laughed a little. It was that one that is half embarrassed, half unsure what to do with something so sincere, but they looked back. And they said it too.

It was weird, but we did it anyway.

And then we did it again the next day. And the next.

Day by day, gaze by gaze, we let the weirdness wear off, and eventually, something beautiful took its place. Now, we lock eyes, we hold the silence, and we say the words. And somehow—just in that simple act—it has become one of the most grounding, grace-filled things in our relationship.

Somewhere along the way, I started thinking about that ancient blessing from Scripture: “The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious unto you.”

That image has stayed with me—God’s face turned toward us, beaming with love. Not rushing. Not distracted. Just fully present.

That was what I wanted my boys to know. Not just that they’re loved in theory or in passing—but that my love for them is steady and intentional. I want them to recognize that kind of love by the look on my face.

When it comes to showing someone that you love them, your face is the place! Just like God’s face shines on us with His love, we can let others know we love them by looking them in the eyes, holding their gaze, and expressing love sincerely.

So, the next time you are with someone you love, try it. Pause. Look them in the eyes. Let the moment be a little awkward if it needs to be, and then say the words.

Let them see it in your face.

James 5:16 – “Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working.”

When my sister and I were younger, wrestling and shoving each other was just part of the fun. But one day, I pushed her a little too hard, and she fell straight into our bedroom wall, leaving a hole about two feet long.

We both froze, staring at the gaping hole in shock.

Instead of running straight to our parents, we thought we could solve it ourselves—by covering it up. We grabbed a blanket, tacked it to the wall, and convinced ourselves that no one would notice.

Of course, it did not take long for our parents to discover the mysterious, new wall decor. The truth came out, and though we got in trouble, that experience stuck with me. It is funny to look back on now, but it makes me think about how often I try to cover up my mistakes instead of facing them head-on.

In life, it can be tempting to try to hide our flaws and failures, hoping no one will see them. But God invites us to bring everything into the light.

Because when something is brought into the light, that’s where healing can begin. That is where truth grows. That is where God steps in—not to scold, but to redeem us.

So, today, please let your loved ones see the holes in your life. Let God see them too.

He already knows they are there. He’s not afraid of them, either, and He is making all things new.

James 4:8 – “Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.”

Amber could hide it like a pro. She still smiled at neighbors, still made small talk in the grocery store, still answered “we’re doing good” when people asked. But for five years, she had been spiritually running on fumes.

She still believed in God. But the closeness she once felt? That spark that once lit up her faith? It had been gone a long time.

She missed the fire—when Scripture stirred something deep, when prayer felt like a lifeline, when church brought peace instead of pressure.

Now, she just felt tired. Spiritually numb.

She blamed it on busyness, the weight of motherhood, and just… life. But underneath it all, there was this quiet ache. A question she didn’t dare say out loud: Had God left her behind?

It wasn’t until one late night, sitting beside her husband, that the truth slipped out.

“Do you think we’ll ever get back to where we were—with God?”

He paused. “I hope so,” he said. “I miss it.”

A few days later, driving to the store, Amber flipped through radio stations. A familiar song caught her ear. The lyrics hit something raw in her:

Every time I tried to make it on my own
Every time I tried to stand and start to fall…
There was Jesus.

She told her husband that night. They started talking about faith again. One small step turned into another. Prayer. Scripture. A new church.

And months later, there she stood—volunteering in the lobby of a Christian concert hosted by the same radio station that helped her find her way back. She watched people walk in—some smiling wide, others quietly searching. She had been one of them.

Now, she was someone new. Someone healed. Whole in a way she never thought possible.

And she couldn’t keep it to herself. Because if God could reignite her faith after all the silence… maybe He could do it for someone else.

Maybe He could do it for you.

If you’ve been feeling far, worn out, or just unsure—please hear this:

You don’t have to find your way back alone. Just turn your ear toward Him. Even now, He’s near. And sometimes, all it takes is the smallest spark to set your heart on fire again.

 

Lyrics

Every time I tried to make it on my own
Every time I tried to stand and start to fall
And all those lonely roads that I have travelled on
There was Jesus

When the life I built came crashing to the ground
When the friends I had were nowhere to be found
I couldn’t see it then but I can see it now
There was Jesus

In the waiting, in the searching
In the healing and the hurting
Like a blessing buried in the broken pieces
Every minute, every moment
Where I’ve been and where I’m going
Even when I didn’t know it or couldn’t see it
There was Jesus

For this man who needs amazing kind of grace (mm)
For forgiveness at a price I couldn’t pay (mm)
I’m not perfect so I thank God every day
There was Jesus (there was Jesus)

In the waiting, in the searching
In the healing and the hurting
Like a blessing buried in the broken pieces
Every minute, every moment
Where I’ve been and where I’m going
Even when I didn’t know it or couldn’t see it
There was Jesus

On the mountain, in the valleys (there was Jesus)
In the shadows of the alleys (there was Jesus)
In the fire, in the flood (there was Jesus)
Always is and always was
No, I never walk alone (never walk alone)
You are always there

In the waiting, in the searching
In the healing and the hurting
Like a blessing buried in the broken pieces
Every minute (Every minute), every moment (every moment)
Where I’ve been and where I’m going
Even when I didn’t know it or couldn’t see it
There was Jesus
There was Jesus
There was Jesus
There was Jesus

Songwriters: Jonathan Smith / Casey Beathard / Zachary Williams
There Was Jesus lyrics © Little Louder Songs, Be Essential Songs, Seven Ring Circus Songs

Psalm 138:7 – Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my life; you stretch out your hand against the wrath of my enemies, and your right hand delivers me.

“You’re kidding me,” I said out loud, holding my phone closer like I had read it wrong.

But no. It was true.

A woman overseas had been living out in the country, minding her own business. One day she stumbled across this heavy piece of metal in her yard. She figured it would make a good tool, so she started using it. For everything. I mean, she was fixing fences, breaking up ice, pounding in nails—all with what she thought was a trusty hammer.

Then two decades later some construction workers came through, saw her using it, and just about had a fit.

“Ma’am,” they told her, “you’re holding a live grenade!”

Let me say that again.  She had a live grenade. In her hand. For two decades.

And it never exploded.

And I thought: “Lord, how many times have You kept me from something I didn’t even know could destroy me?”

Because let’s be honest. We carry our own version of that grenade. We carry things that feel comfortable and familiar like patterns, bad relationships, or ideas. And we swing it around, not knowing it could take us down.

But somehow, we made it through.

That is not luck. That is the hand of a God who sees danger even when we don’t.

We thank God for the miracles we can see, but what about the ones we will never know happened? The words we did not say. The calls we did not answer. The accident we did not get in.

Family, I don’t know what you are carrying today, but I know this: you are not walking through this world unprotected. Not for one second.

So, take comfort. The One who sees it all is already handling what you never saw coming. He loves you that much.

Psalm 73:26 – My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

It all changed without warning.

At fifteen-years-old, Lauren Daigle dreamed in full color—wide-open skies, big stages, and a voice that could carry for miles. But then one morning, she couldn’t get out of bed. No fever. No clear diagnosis. Just a kind of tired that made her body feel like lead and her dreams feel impossible.

Days blurred into weeks. Then into months. Her world shrank to the walls of her home. The girl who used to sing without stopping could barely whisper now. Doctors ran tests and offered guesses, but nothing brought answers. Just more waiting. More silence.

And honestly, she started to wonder if her dream had been lost forever.

One afternoon, Lauren’s mom suggested voice lessons. Not to prep for a tour or audition, of course, but just to sing again for the sake of singing.

It seemed laughable at first. What good was a voice lesson when she could barely speak above a whisper? But something in her wanted to try. She wanted to feel human again, so she said yes.

It was slow. It was shaky. Her voice cracked, and her confidence trembled. But she kept going. And with each lesson, something started to wake up. Her voice didn’t come back all at once—but breath by breath, it grew stronger. And so did she.

Maybe you too are in that kind of season right now—where everything feels stalled, and your strength feels gone. Maybe you have let go of a dream because you are tired of hoping.

But if you can still whisper—just barely—you’re not finished. God still has a plan for you.

 

 

Isaiah 61:3a — “He will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair.”

Lately, I have been catching myself holding Lennox just a little longer before putting him down.

His little chest rises and falls against mine, warm and steady, and I think about how this is my first Mother’s Day as a mom. I should be thrilled, and part of me is.

But the truth? It is complicated.

Because Mother’s Day has been hard for years. My own mom isn’t here anymore. And not a year goes by that I don’t wish I could call her, hear her laugh, or ask her how she handled all the mom-things I am just now beginning to understand.

But this year… there’s something new to celebrate

There’s Lennox.

There’s a sweetness to waking up in the night and knowing I get to be his safe place. And there’s my stepdaughter. We have had our rough patches—God knows blending families is not an easy road—but lately, there has been this trust growing between us. It is not perfect, but it is good.

And that is what I am holding on to.

I could stay in the sadness. I could make room only for what’s missing.

But I won’t.

Because I believe God can do something with all of it. The joy. The sting in my heart. The parts I wish were different. He does not waste a single piece.

You see, grief and joy can live side by side, and your pain is not pointless because the Lord can turn broken things and make them beautiful, even now.

So, if you are standing in the middle ground like me—with joy in one hand and sorrow in the other—just know you are not alone. God is still in it. He is still restoring, still healing, and still showing you the beauty you didn’t know was possible.

And this year? I am choosing to see it.

2 Peter 3:18 “But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be the glory both now and to the day of eternity. Amen.”

I did not plan on getting emotional—it just happened. I was scrolling through my phone for a recipe and stumbled across a photo from the day we brought our daughter home from the hospital.

I sat on the edge of the bed and just stared at it. I could almost smell that sweet newborn scent again, feel the warmth of her against my chest. She was so small. I remember being scared to hold her too tightly, afraid I might do something wrong. I had no idea what I was doing, but somehow, I knew I had never loved anything more.

That picture could have been taken yesterday—and yet, here we are.

She’s walking now. Babbling. Exploring every corner of the living room with that determined little look in her eyes. One week she is clumsily gripping her bottle, and the next, she is waving at strangers in the grocery store.

It is breathtaking about watching someone grow right in front of you. The days feel long while you are in them—but looking back, it’s all a blink.

And then it hit me: if she is changing that quickly, maybe I am too.

It is easy to miss your own growth. I catch myself measuring life by where I think I should be while forgetting how far I have already come. We tend to believe that if we don’t feel progress, it must not be happening. But just because we cannot see something growing does not mean it isn’t.

God is still working in me. Even on quiet days. Even when I feel stuck. He is molding me into the person He has always intended me to be.

Growth is not a sprint from one milestone to the next. It is made of little choices. It is thos4 small, quiet turns of the heart toward trust. And just like Reese is becoming more of who she is meant to be every day… so are you and me.

You are not who you were six months ago. Or last year. You are not finished, either, or the work God is doing in you—right now—is not wasted. Every moment of growth matters, even when you do not feel it yet.

2 Timothy 4:5 “As for you, always be sober-minded, endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, fulfill your ministry.”

I don’t know how else to put it—my mother could talk to a fence post and get it saved before sundown.

Now I mean that with every ounce of admiration. She had this way of making you feel like you mattered, like you weren’t just someone she passed in the aisle at Dollar General. And she did not need a big crowd to share what was in her heart. As long as there was breath in her lungs, she was going to make sure you knew about Jesus.

Then, one day, the doctors used words none of us ever wanted to hear: breast cancer.

I braced myself. I thought, well, maybe she will take this time to rest. But if anything, she got louder. Not in volume, but in purpose. That hospital bed turned into her mission field. The IV pole might as well have been a microphone.

Every nurse, every doctor, and even the folks checking her vitals at 2 a.m.— they all heard the same sweet gospel. Jesus loves you.

Now, some folks smiled politely and scooted right out the door, but a few lingered, asked questions, and let their guards down. There she was, weak in body but strong in spirit, doing what she was made to do.

That is what sticks with me now. She didn’t waste her pain. She handed it to God like a basket of loaves and fish and said, “Do something with this, Lord.” And He did.

So, I need to tell you this, dear ones: just because life looks messy does not mean it’s meaningless. Just because you are hurting does not mean you are useless. Your struggle might be the very soil where someone else’s faith takes root.

Stay open. Keep sowing. Because even in a hospital gown, hooked up to machines, my mom showed me that Jesus still shines.

And family, He can shine through you too.

Isaiah 65:24 – “Before they call I will answer; while they are yet speaking I will hear.”

Bonita was not in the mood to talk to anyone. She just wanted to pick up the pizza and go. One pizza. The cheapest one they had. She had double-checked the change in her purse before ordering just hoping she wouldn’t come up short.

On the outside, it probably looked like a normal day, but Bonita knew what it cost her to be there. Pride. Worry. Weariness. Trying to feed a family on fumes never got easier.

At the restaurant, she waited in the car, watching people walk in and out. Then a young employee stepped out, holding not one, but two boxes.

Her stomach sank. She didn’t want a scene. “Oh—I think there’s been a mistake,” she said gently. “I only paid for one.”

But the girl just smiled. “This one’s free. It was an extra. We were just going to throw it away, but we would rather one of our customers had it instead.”

Bonita didn’t know what to say. She just took the boxes and tried not to let the tears fall until she was by herself. No, she didn’t cry over pizza. She cried over the timing. The tenderness. She cried because it felt like God had looked right into her situation and said, I’ve got you.

She did not asked for two pizzas, but God gave her an extra one anyway.

Friend, it is easy to believe we are invisible in our everyday struggles—but God sees every detail. He even hears the prayers we don’t say out loud. He gives what we did not think to ask for. You are not forgotten. And your needs are not too small for Him to meet.