Nan Jones author and speaker Archives - Page 4 of 6

After the Storm came a Hush and After the Hush Came a Song

June 21, 2019 Nan Jones Home

Ominous, black-stained clouds crept over the mountain ridge. Trees bowed to the ground under the influence of fierce winds as raindrops like bullets shot from the sky. Long, slender fingers of electricity lit up the darkened heavens. One touched the hill across the street with an explosion of intense light. I screamed and quickly ran from the window as my home shuttered against the thunderous boom.

But just as quickly as the midday became midnight, and gentle breeze became fierce winds, the storm moved on.

Fur Babies Are Family Too ~ Finding God in Your Loss

May 17, 2019 Nan Jones Home

Sunday morning we said goodbye to our beloved Blue. It was sudden. No warning. He collapsed and a subsequent exploratory surgery with an emergency vet revealed massive amounts of cancer.

Blue had shown no signs of illness — aging, yes. Slowing down a bit as his muzzle grayed … yes. But he was happy, eating, thrilled by his daily walks … until he collapsed.

Even in my ugliness, he loved me still

February 15, 2019 Nan Jones Home

Wounds of the heart can grow bitterness. Ugliness. Anguish, or distress.

Or … wounds of the heart can grow good seeds of grain, crushed to produce life-giving bread to feed others. Deep faith can grow with roots steady and strong. Eyes can open to see abounding grace and the abiding presence of the Lord.

How to Rekindle the Flame When Your Light Grows Dim

January 18, 2019 Nan Jones Home

Speaking the Name of Jesus will rekindle the flame that once burned bright.

Outside the wind is howling. Ice clings to the trees and shrubs — blades of leftover grass crunch beneath my feet. My eyes tear from the sting of the cold making me want to hurry home.

Once inside, I’m warmed by the crackle of the fire. The belly of the woodstove glows with red and orange embers while flames consume the wood and warms our home. I throw a couple more logs in, grab a cup of coffee and curl up on the couch for a few minutes of rest.

As I sit and think, I’m reminded of the winter of the soul — seasons of hardship, loss, sorrow … brokenness. Some days it feels as though the season will never end with its darkened days and veiled light.