I’ve been in love with God’s Word for much of my life. I got to thinking about something today, though, and it was a bit sobering. The times when I have loved His Word most, held it close to my heart wanting to never let go, was when I was in the deepest pain.

It happened when we lost our baby daughter in 1990. The Word became my lifeline. I poured myself into my Bible and poured its words into me like I couldn’t get enough. Because I couldn’t get enough.

Heather died in April and a few weeks later on Mother’s Day Steve bought me a beautiful peach-tinted study Bible. I carried it with me everywhere. I still have it, worn and water-damaged and highlighted and notated and frayed. The only reason I’m not still using it nearly exclusively is because some of the pages are permanently stuck together from an unfortunate flooding accident a couple of years ago. I won’t part with it, though. There’s plenty between those tattered peach covers that I can still read.


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