The Connection Corner
A daily source of encouragement and inspiration to connect your heart to hope and faith.
A daily source of encouragement and inspiration to connect your heart to hope and faith.
Media Ministries, Inc.
101 N. 2nd Street, Suite 200
West Monroe, LA 71291
Office Phone: (318) 387-1230
Studio Line/Text Line: (318) 651-8870
Mailing Address:
PO Box 3265
Monroe, LA 71210

Tiny Gifts, Big Riches
Daily Devotional, David HallI remember the story Penny shared about a Christmas when money was scarce, and she had three daughters counting on her. She prayed openly, asking God for a way to make the morning feel like a celebration, even if the gifts were small.
Her solution was simple but perfect. Instead of gifts, she spent less than fifty dollars on little trinkets, wrapped them, and hid them throughout the house. She wrote clues on index cards and turned her home into a treasure hunt.
On Christmas morning, she handed the first clue to her daughters. The house erupted with sound. Feet hit floors. Voices bounced off walls. Each small treasure found became a prize. Each discovery turned into a shared favorite memory.
Penny watched her daughters and realized that joy can arrive in small packages. Laughter and excitement filled the holes in their family’s hearts that riches could not reach.
Later, Penny reflected on the lessons those lean years taught her daughters and herself — lessons that stayed with them long after the gifts were gone:
Toward the end of the story, she shared a verse with me, the one she had read to her girls each Christmas: Colossians 3:16. “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God.” That moment tied everything together.
It reminded her—and me—that they were never poor. Not then. Not now. Every Advent season, I return to that line. If the Word dwells in us, if gratitude fills our homes, and if He is already here celebrating with us, who among us could ever not call ourselves rich?
A MOMENT TO REFLECT
Joy That Survives the Fall
Daily Devotional, Sarah HallI climbed the snowy hill with more curiosity than confidence. Sitting on the slick rubber tube, I shifted slightly to see how it would respond beneath me. The snow crunched under my boots, and the cold nipped at my fingers as I adjusted my grip.
My hair whipped across my face, tangling against the wind. My friends lingered behind, part cheerleaders, part mischief-makers.
Then came the shove that sent me sliding.
For a moment, it felt amazing. The tube glided over the packed snow, carrying me faster and faster. My laugh burst out before I could catch it. The hill seemed bigger than all my problems as if the world transformed just for me. Every worry felt distant like the slope itself had stripped them away.
Then the bump came.
A hidden root flipped the tube, and suddenly I was rolling, arms and legs flailing, snow filling every pocket of my jacket. When I finally stopped, I lay on my back, gasping, and laughing at myself. My friends arrived, faces concerned. I waved them off. I was fine. I was more than fine—I felt alive in a way that smooth rides never achieve.
Later, as I rubbed snow from my coat and shook my boots, I thought about how important it is to feel joy like that. I thought about that verse that says, “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” Those words had always meant something to me, but now they felt alive.
Joy is not the smooth ride. It is what endures the tumbles, what stays when the unexpected spins you around. Gratitude is a choice, and laughter is proof it can stick, even in the mess.
So when the next surprise comes—and it will—don’t let the fall write the story. No, let God do it. Keep riding and keep trusting that the One who steadies you will never let you go.
A MOMENT TO REFLECT
Home Alone but Not Abandoned
Daily Devotional, Linda MeyersBefore there was Kevin McCallister, there was a man with a notebook full of half-baked Christmas ideas and a flight to catch.
John Hughes had been writing one hit after another, but something about Christmas kept tugging at him. He loved the noise of it—the clatter of dishes, the stampede of family, the sweaters that made everyone itchy and happy all at once. And on one chilly morning, he started thinking about the chaos of leaving for a holiday trip. Bags everywhere. Kids shouting. Someone always forgetting their toothbrush.
Then it hit him: what if they forgot a kid?
The idea was ridiculous—and that’s exactly why he loved it.
So he sat down and started writing. Snow fell outside his Chicago window, and his office glowed with the light of a small Christmas tree in the corner. As he typed, something beautiful began to emerge—not just comedy and clever traps, but a story about wonder and courage and joy.
Then came the hunt for the kid who could carry the whole sleigh.
Enter Macaulay Culkin.
There was something in the way he looked at the camera—a mixture of innocence, mischief, and that unspoken “watch this” confidence. It was perfect. He was Kevin McCallister.
When Home Alone finally hit theaters in 1990, no one expected what would happen next. The movie didn’t just make people laugh—it made them feel.
Families saw themselves in that noisy house. Parents remembered the panic of holiday travel. Kids felt the thrill of being clever and brave. And in the middle of all the slapstick and silliness, one simple truth appeared. Even when Kevin was left behind, he was never truly alone.
There was the kindly neighbor keeping an eye from across the street, the world outside that noticed when he needed help, and the little acts of care that surrounded him. In his moment of greatest independence—and greatest fear—he had protection, unseen by him at times but there, nonetheless.
And maybe that’s the lesson that lingers. Like Kevin, we are never truly alone. Psalm 91:2 puts it simply: “This I declare about the Lord: He alone is my refuge, my place of safety; He is my God, and I trust Him.”
Just as Kevin had someone watching out for him in small, tangible ways, we, too, have a refuge in Christ — a place of safety where we are never unprotected, unseen, or without care.
I think, perhaps, that is why John Hughes’ Home Alone still feels magical every Christmas. It’s not just for the laughs or the clever tricks, but for the simple reminder that we are never truly abandoned or forgotten.
A MOMENT TO REFLECT