Tag: Jesus

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DEAR GOD… THESE BULBS AIN’T BULBING

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SCRIPTURE
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” — John 1:5


There is nothing quite like a Christmas tree to expose the truth about your spiritual maturity. All year long you can love people, show grace, pray faithfully, encourage the saints… but let one strand of lights refuse to light, and suddenly you’re two seconds from throwing the whole tree — and half of your Christianity — out the window.

I stood there staring at a section of lights that worked perfectly last year. This morning? Dead. Dim. Uncooperative. Just like some seasons in my life.

I kept tugging, twisting, tapping, and praying under my breath — the kind of “Jesus help me before I say something” prayer. Because I could feel the frustration rising, not just from the tree, but from everything I’ve been carrying these past few days.

And right in the middle of the chaos, God whispered:

“All light isn’t broken… Some of it just needs to be reconnected.”

It stopped me. Because that’s exactly how I’ve been feeling: 
Tired in spots. 
Dim in places. 
Still trying to shine, but not nearly as bright as I used to.

Sometimes we’re not broken — we’re just overwhelmed. 
Sometimes we’re not out of faith — we’re out of energy. 
Sometimes the problem isn’t the whole strand — it’s just one little place that needs a reset.

And here’s the good news: 
God knows how to find the bulb that’s not bulbing. 
And He knows how to restore the light.

Even when we don’t have the patience. 
Even when we want to throw everything back in the box until next Christmas. 
Even when we’re standing there with tears, peppermint tea, and attitude.

Purpose doesn’t disappear because one section went dark. 
Your life is still lit. 
Your calling is still glowing. 
Your hope is still wired into Him.

And if I need to add a new string of lights on top? God isn’t offended. Sometimes grace looks like “make it easier for yourself, daughter.”

-Love Chelle

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Dear God- Keep  Digging

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Luke 13:6–9 (NIV)
Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard, and he went to look for fruit on it but did not find any.
So he said to the man who took care of the vineyard, ‘For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on this fig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?’
“‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around it and fertilize it.
If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’”
Reflection
Some days, I feel exactly like that fig tree—standing in the middle of life, trying my best, but still wondering if I’m producing anything at all. Not the perfect, fruitful tree everyone expects… just the one hoping nobody notices how bare the branches feel.

And honestly? There are moments I feel inadequate in almost every role I hold:
– As a wife, loving deeply but sometimes running on fumes
– As a mother, praying between grown-child crises, hoping I’m guiding well
– As an employee, juggling tasks with a superhero cape that keeps slipping
– As a minister, pouring out even when my cup feels half-empty
– As a singer, trying to bless God while my voice sometimes protests
– As a writer, full of stories but occasionally stuck between heart and keyboard

And in the middle of all that, I slip into development mode: fix myself, improve myself, upgrade myself—as if I’m a project on a deadline.

But Jesus tells a different story.

In the parable, the owner looks at the tree and says, “Cut it down.” But the Gardener—who knows how roots really work—steps between judgment and mercy and says:
“Give her time. Give her grace. Let Me work with her.”

He doesn’t ask the tree to try harder. He doesn’t shame it. Instead He says:
“Let Me dig around her.”
“Let Me nourish her.”
“Let Me tend to the parts nobody sees.”

While I’m busy trying to perfect myself, Jesus reminds me:
“Growth is My job. Staying connected is yours.”

He is not rushing me. He is not disappointed in me. He is not walking away from me.

He is kneeling in the soil of my life saying:
“Give her another year. I know what she needs. Let Me grow her in My timing.”

And that truth sets my soul at rest.
Prayer
Dear Lord,
Thank You for being the Gardener who refuses to give up on me. Forgive me for the times I rush myself, judge myself, or declare myself fruitless. Teach me to rest in You, to stay rooted in You, and to trust Your timing over my own. Dig around me, nourish me, and grow me in the way only You can. And when I feel inadequate, remind me that Your grace is still at work beneath the surface.

With love,
Chelle

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Dear God – When Caregiving Hurts and Heals

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DEAR GOD… WHEN CAREGIVING HURTS, HEALS, AND LEANS HEAVY ON MY SHOULDERS

“My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9

Today, I told myself I would wait until the temperature climbed to at least forty degrees before heading out to decorate my sister’s room at the nursing home for Christmas. I’m bringing her a case of pudding and picking up the dirty laundry — the usual “big sister doing what needs to be done” routine.

But before I even put my coat on, a familiar companion showed up… guilt.

Not guilt because I don’t want to help — I do, with all my heart.
But guilt because sometimes… Lord, I am just tired.

Tired from my own responsibilities.
Tired from my job, my husband’s appointments, my grandchildren, my writing, my own body acting up on me.
Tired from being pulled in ten different directions while trying to stay whole myself.

And there’s a special kind of guilt that comes with caregiving when you are exhausted.
A guilt that whispers, “You should be doing more.”
A guilt that berates you for needing a break.
A guilt that makes you feel like resting means failing.

Especially when the person you’re caring for is your younger sister.
Only 48.
Bed bound.
Multiple strokes.
Speech limited.
Taken down by a condition we didn’t even know existed until it barged into our family like a thief in the night.

Sometimes I walk into her room and see her lying there, and my heart squeezes because I remember who she used to be — strong, funny, quick-witted, full of that younger-sister attitude that kept me on my toes.
And then another wave hits:
How dare I complain about being tired when she would give anything to switch places with me for one day?

But Lord… that is not the truth You want me to carry.

Because even with her limitations, she and I still do what sisters do:
trash talk, laugh, joke, roll our eyes, and make the nurses wonder what on earth is going on in Room Whatever-It-Is-This-Week.
She’s still her, and I’m still me, and our sisterhood refuses to die.

And yet, the guilt still shows up when I catch myself sighing too hard, or wishing for one quiet weekend, or resenting the cold weather because caregiving is already heavy enough.

But today, Father, You whispered something to my heart:

“Guilt is not your assignment. Grace is.”

Caregiving is not a competition of strength.
It is not a performance for heaven.
It is not a test You are grading me on.

It is love lived out loud.
It is compassion with skin on it.
It is the ministry nobody sees but You.

Decorating her room today…
It’s not just Christmas décor.
It’s dignity.
It’s joy.
It’s a reminder that she is still here and still loved.
And it is a reminder that I am still allowed to be human.

So Lord, when the guilt rises because life is heavy,
when responsibilities pile up faster than I can carry them,
when I feel torn between caring for her and caring for myself,
remind me:

You never asked me to do this perfectly.
You only asked me to do it with love.
And love, even tired love, is still holy.

With Love,
Chelle

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Red Light, Green Light

Posted in faith, God, health, inspiration, love, relationships, selfhelp, UncategorizedTagged , , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

Lately, I’ve been stretched thin — the kind of thin where coffee starts looking like an emotional support beverage, and my bed feels like a distant memory. With relatives going in and out of hospitals, caretaking shifts, family worry, and decision fatigue (add a side of job and regular life), I’ve been functioning on autopilot. And not the smooth, first-class autopilot. More like the “Lord, please fly this plane because I’m tired” version.
Then, yesterday, on the way to yet another appointment, I found myself sitting at a stoplight. I thought it was red, so I just sat there… waiting, replaying the last few weeks in my head. My shoulders were tight, my eyelids heavy, and my spirit stretched. Then suddenly — BEEP! An irritated horn behind me snapped me back to reality.

And that’s when I realized:
I wasn’t sitting at a red light at all.
It wasn’t even green.
It was yellow — a caution light telling me, “Proceed when safe.”

🌟 Misreading the Signals
That moment hit me deeper than I expected. Because stress will have you out here misreading life’s signals.
When you’re tired enough, everything looks like a stop.
A closed door feels like punishment.
A pause feels like abandonment.
A delay feels like failure.
A quiet season feels like rejection.
A yellow light looks red.
But exhaustion is a lens that lies to us.
Sometimes, God isn’t saying “STOP.”
He’s saying, “Chelle, slow down, breathe, look around… and move forward with Me.”

God Uses Yellow Seasons Too
We love the green-light seasons — when everything flows, doors open, blessings drop, and strength is high.
And we understand the red-light seasons — when God lovingly tells us to wait, rest, or retract.
But that yellow light?
That in-between, not-quite-here, not-quite-there space?
We treat it like an inconvenience.
God treats it as instruction.
A yellow season says:
“Be cautious, but don’t freeze.”
“Use wisdom, but don’t quit.”
“Move forward, but stay alert.”
“Pay attention, but don’t be afraid.”
A yellow light is still movement — just intentional movement.

The dig into  this moment wrapped itself around one of my Uncle/Pastor Ron’s favorite scriptures:
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart
and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways acknowledge Him,
and He shall direct your paths.”
— Proverbs 3:5–6

My scripturally adjacent version:
When we’re exhausted, our understanding gets cloudy.
When we’re overwhelmed, our perspective gets foggy.
But when we trust God, He clears the road even when our vision is blurry.

Honk Honk,  if you feel like you’ve been waiting at a red light for too long…
Ask yourself gently:
“Is this really a red light…
or am I just too weary to see that God is saying, ‘Proceed — just proceed wisely’?”
Look again.
Take a breath.
Lift your head.
Reset your spirit.
Ask for fresh strength.
Sometimes, the miracle is not the light changing…
it’s your clarity returning.

So before I pick up my keys again and cause some other signal light saints to lose their religion, pray with me:

Lord
I am tired. My mind is overloaded, and sometimes I misread what You’re trying to show me.
Help me see clearly today.
Help me not confuse exhaustion with direction or fear with caution.
Give me discernment to know when to rest, when to wait, and when to move forward.
Thank You for being patient with me when I stall at yellow lights.
Guide my steps. Strengthen my spirit.
And help me proceed wisely, safely, and confidently with You.
Amen.

With Love Chelle

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As Long As Someone Remembers

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It was one of the oddest days of my life. Was sitting at my desk frozen when I got the call from my hometown, sherrif. My brain went into autopilot, and I kept trying to work with tears streaming down my face. My then boss had to force me to breathe and go home. The love my co-workers showed was unmatched. Could not have made it through the coming days and the funeral without them.

He was a complicated man that I did not get to know until he was an old man in need of redemption and forgiveness. In the beginning, I was an abandoned child, looking for answers, who only served him out of obedience to my God, and the Word said to honor thy father. In the end, I became the child thru whom he wanted to give answers and ask forgiveness from his other children thru.

We didn’t have time to become father/daughter in the traditional sense. What we did have was card games, sweet potato pies, road trips, old Navy stories, testaments of the grandparents I didn’t get to meet, and a soft spot for healing to begin. He became my Pop, and I became his church mother. LOL and inside joke between us.

I figure sometimes that I was the “Moses” baby. … shipped off with no knowledge of him…so I could return and become a path to his need for freedom. Though I 💯 validate it, I am blessed to never quite have known the anger my sisters and brothers felt for him. I suppose my heart was kept in reserve for the old man and young child of God he would become.

Still missing you, Pop. I thank you for the gift of the crazy brood of sisters and brothers I inherited 9 years ago.

I hope amongst the milk and honey that there is strong coffee and sweet potato pie!!

Edgar Jerome “Jerry” Franklin-Bradshaw
March 1, 1944 – February 5, 2015


Never Really Gone As Long As Someone Remembers.

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Disconnect

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The last few months have been crazy busy with normal things and unusual situations. All resulting in a great rushing around town and telephones ringing incessantly while I wear my many hats as wife, mother, grandma, daughter, sister, employee, minister, caregiver, and advocate for the homeless.

In the midst of stress and exhaustion, there is one time I must pause every morning, typically at 4 a.m. During those wee hours, I don a compression garment that looks very much like a cross between the Micheline Tire Man and Robo Cop. I then connect it to a machine that forces a tight lymphatic massage from my feet up to my arms. Rotating in four zones.

Those one to two hours daily are not much fun. Confining and often sweaty. But nevertheless, a necessary evil to ward off any increasing lymphodema caused by the removal of 100s of lymph nodes during my cancer fight.

To make it less taxing, I typically light a scented candle, make a cup of herbal tea, pull up a sermon on YouTube and attempt to ignore phone calls from those who try to catch me while I am being held captive.

This particular morning was different. I had settled into my routine. Tired from a week of very little sleep, but content to have two hours of escape.

15 minutes in, I noticed that only one of the 4 compression zones was working. I kept changing positions, thinking I was laying on one of the 4 hoses. I shook my legs, hoping maybe kicking would jump start the machine. I am so glad no one could witness what a comical sight it must have been to see a robot dancing on a couch.

I looked at the machine’s monitor twice, and everything was cycling as it should, but I just wasn’t getting my prescribed treatment. I started to panic, wondering how I was going to replace a $5000 medical device. I then remembered I had a 10 year warranty on the thing, but nevertheless, I starting to fret over the process and expense it would take to pack about 10 lbs of equipment and mail back to the non-local service center.

However, as I reached over to the machine that I was expressing anger toward, I felt a puff of air and realized that in my haste and distraction, I had only plugged in one of the four hoses. My machine wasn’t broken, I just hadn’t connected to it.

Immediately, in my spirit, I heard “yeah, kinda like us.”

A painful wave came over me, realizing that my failure to connect had spread to my relationship with my all-encompassing healing Savior.

In my rush and haste to perform “the have to” things in life, my personal time with Him was suffering greatly. He promised to be with me always, but I hadn’t always been with Him. Prayer and praise had been replaced with to-do lists.

Far worse, I had been complaining and pondering over promises and prophetic words that didn’t seem like they were working in my favor. Tired, spent, and joy decreasing. Blaming everything on the “machine” life can be, instead of connecting to the “Power”

As I replugged in the natural, I could also feel the Holy Spirit nudging me get my 4 zones in order : alone time with Him in true worship, more time in the Word learning about Him, re-establishing Him as priority, and trusting in His promise warranties.

I stopped a moment to apologize to Flexitouch Plus for failing to connect to it and narcissisticly making “it” the problem. Once I reconnected, it fulfilled all I needed to get back on track, and I always look forward to the release of pressure at the end of every session.

And yes, of course, I apologized to Jesus, and that release after reconnecting and being forgiven is amazing .


Find Me In The Clutter

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All this week I found it tough to find my quiet time and focus. 

Being a wife, mom of 5, grandma of 10. a full time employee of a job that runs more like 12 hour a day and resource minister, what is alone time again? I had pushed my time with God to quick moments…out of focus and not very devoted. 

 Guilt tried to creep in several times as I had been carving some time this week to do some decluttering and downsizing as I am making decisions whether to renovate my cute little house built in 1955 or move on to something bigger. Like I found time for junk but not Him.

Amongst the piles of what to trash, what to give away, and what to keep for repurposing, I found treasures and tears. Joys and lows. Memories kept and some that needed to be let go.  I laughed as much as I cried. I held on to as much as I said “why do I still have this?”

This morning, I go to get up determined that God and I would have coffee no matter what!  Yet before I could fully get out of bed, my foot would rest on one of the many piles of sorted clothes. My mind immediately thought to tidy up a little first. 

“Find Me In The Clutter”

What?

“Find Me In The Clutter”

Clear as day. In my spirit was an utterance to see God’s Glory in all my mess. As I refocused, I see Him.

He is there with me amongst the colorful stick figure drawings and piles of mother’s day cards from the joy of being a mom and Nama.  

He is there with me in  the butterflies I collect in memory of the beloved twin daughters and a grandson lost at birth.

He is there with me in the college diploma I received though I was told as a teenage mother I wouldn’t graduate high school. He is there with me in all 5 of their diplomas as well.

He is there with me in the mesh and metal cage bra I wore during 25 radiation treatments after 3 months of chemo and a lumpectomy.

He is there with me in angel figurine of a woman whom I never met who died herself but left the encouragement to celebrate my 3rd year as a survivor.

He is there with me in every photo of every loved one, every saved wedding announcement, every saved funeral program. In old records, old books, tickets stubs, vacation shirts and on and on.

I am writing to you now atop a pile of clutter in a hot mess of joyful tears mixed with “God, I’m sorry.” 

 I can’t quite find the words to express this feeling of knowing that He is always with me and speaking,  even when I am a mess in a mess. What I had classified as a distraction turned into revelation and gratitude. A different kind of devotion….  initiated by Him.

I still have work to do…… both on working on “our time” and my cluttered environment.  But He urged me to be mindful to let go of the guilt and allow this to be a “rested work”.  A work that has purpose and meaning that will feel less like work as we clean it together.

WHEW GLORY!

So if any of you earth dwellers go looking for me today, listen out for the Hallelujahs in the hallway under the piles of kids clothes!!!!

  • Michelle

Heart Hungry

Posted in cancer, christmas, God, health, inspiration, love, money, relationshipsTagged , , , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

I was out in the Carytown area yesterday. One of the worst places to be when you know that you can’t have solid food for 36 hours before a medical test. But I was looking to pick up my last meal for a few days and wanted something special.

However my husband and I ran across homeless people near the trash cans of so many of these trendy restaurants . I began to weep when I saw them because this is America….the land of excess…and yet so many are living like this. Carytown flows with cash. Most times I can afford nothing there. It was heartbreaking seeing people of all ages and colors hoping for some wasteful person’s scraps.

This situation is only exasperated by Covid closing so many churches and shelter resources. It is also created by a ” I got mine. You get yours” attitude so many financially secure people have.

We don’t have a lot in our house but we are blessed. My husband and pooled what we had and bought as many sandwiches and fries we could handle. Thank you to the Carytown McDonald’s for asking what we were doing and donating a matching amount of bottled water.

I was shook so much by one married couple out on the corner with what seemed to be all of their possessions huddled against the cold. I freaked when I noticed a baby stroller but was relieved to find it was a very old dog wrapped in a blanket. I’m not a pet lover but I had to feed it. The poor thing was so tired looking he barely lifted his head at the smell of food. The young husband was so grateful he started to cry.

In the age of Covid you can’t touch, get too close or even see smiles anymore. But I was struck by all the emotions in his eyes and they spoke the volume of the problems in the human experience. His eyes were a golden brown color that I have never seen before and pierced right through me as a reminder to be grateful in all things. Even under the dirt and behind a make shift mask his face glowed.

I also noticed that they still wore their wedding bands. Tells me that they have not been out there too long. Most folks would have pawned for a room. Also tells me that they are determined to stay a family.

My husband and I made one last pass thru the street to make sure we hadn’t missed anybody we saw. Thought I had gone crazy because the couple and that old dog were suddenly gone. No way they could have moved that fast. We had just circled the block.

All I can do is wonder if we had been visited and tested. I pray we passed. My own food is still in the fridge. No need for it. My heart filled me.

A Christmas Story

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Twas the night before Christmas

And I had just closed my country store.

Turned the locks, shaded the windows

When there was a frantic knock on the door.

The sales were quite over. Merchandise was quite done.

I had had quite enough of Christmas.

Nothing left to sell ya, not a toy. Not a one.

 

I was quite tempted,

To shout “No Room At The Inn”

But remembered my Sunday School Teacher

She’d  say “ Naughty, Naughty Sin”

It was a Papa, a Mama, and a few little ones

How could I pass?

Seeing chubby cheek chilled faces

Pressed against that last pane of glass.

 

The snow and wind came in behind them,

A huge chill filled the air

Yet there was a warm glow all about them

Oh so happy I was there.

“Patch of Ice You Say, Car in a ditch, Everything Tossed”

“Big Boom” the children said excitedly

Mama chimed  “cold and lost”
On the phone  was Papa

“ We can’t wait, no place to stay.”

“Sorry Buddy”  the tow driver retorted

“Don’t you know it’s a Holiday”

Everything then in me

Wanted to hide under my bed and weep.

For surely in house full of strangers

This old shop keeper would get no sleep.

 

So I rekindled  the fire,

Boiled milk  for  a cup of cocoa or two

Exclaimed not much food left in here

But all I have is open to you.

The Kids  Got All Excited,

and  Raced to the Tree

At the prospect of candy canes still hanging

And suddenly free.

Mama was ingenious,

what she did with that spam.

Totally convinced me and the Papa

Of the miracle of canned ham.

 

As I pulled blankets, and soft pallets

And strew them about the floor

I realized though I had made a killing this Christmas,

It was they that truly had more.

They played games,  they told stories

They laughed about with glee.

They had a joy  about them

That had long ago escaped me.

 

My head and heart couldn’t take it

I yelled for them to stop

How could they be so crazy happy

When their holiday was such a flop?

No real food, amiss from  presents,

and sleeping on the floor.

Stuck in ditch and with a grumpy stranger

In an empty Christmas store.

 

When just then ,

a little hand tugged

at the hem of my dress

Said “ Hey Lady ,

in Jesus there are no strangers

and this  aint such a mess.

See we headed to grandpa’s  fancy house

Up on a really big hill

Though we were scared when the car went boom

Daddy said , “let’s find God’s good will.”

We came through the cold and snow

When God led us to your door.

And now you have shared all that you had

So I just know God will bless you more.

 

As I looked into those little eyes

It was very plain to see.

It was not me helping them that was God’s good will

But it was them helping me.

It’s not about the trimmings, not the money

Or any kind of gift

The true celebration of Christmas

Is seeking His will for who you are with.

 

As I settled in a rocker that night

Humming my little messenger to sleep.

I wonder if this was how Mary felt

And I knew why she did weep.

Though His gift was wrapped so quietly

In a manager filled with hay

He was destined to be presented triumphantly

On a Hill far away.

 

So if your Christmas spirit has  escaped you

Look around for who you are with.

Seek the will of Him who sent you.

That’s your greatest gift.

Already bought and paid for

Precious blood, highly priced.

He Reached out for a stranger

And Gifted this day in paradise.

 

Michelle Gillison-Robinson, Christmas 2016

The Presents of His Presence

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Luke 11:13. So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children,
how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him.”

Every time my younger sister comes to the house, she walks by it and groans. Every time my one of my grandsons, Jeremiah, comes to the house he exclaims, “I love it here.” So, naturally, the situation has me torn.

You see, today is Saturday, January 31,  2015 and still…. in all its splendid glory and beauty, gracing my living room like a strong tower and great representation of faith…. the tree of Christmas 2014 is still up.

Yes, I was the last one in the family to decorate, I always am. And yes, you are right, I am probably just too lazy to take it down. But, the delay lead to the joke, that lead to the miracles.

It was funny at first when on January 6, …. the official last day of Christmas tree removal etiquette…., I irritated the sister, who shall remain nameless, (you know who I am talking about, don’t you , Cheryl?) by saying “ Shoot , as long as the tree stays up , I will have a prepared place for the gifts to keep coming.” But it stopped being such a joke before long because for days….. almost every day…. stuff started coming and coming from strange places.

Actually, gifts started coming from people who said they were just thinking of us. Rebates owed started coming. A grant that had been denied was suddenly overturned and a huge medical expense paid. Some bonus money from work I wasn’t expecting showed up and on and on and on. We even took one blessing, turned it into a seed into a homeless woman and her child and watched God multiply it into a home for the two of them.

I do believe even the “unsaid” sister thought about a request or two. So much so, my husband, said “Leave it up all year, we will just change the decorations each month.” LOL.

Now surely, we know that the Christmas tree had nothing to do with it really, though it had become a testimony of God’s goodness to all that heard about it. My heart was struck by “having a place prepared for the presence of His presence and His presents” Since we have already established that the Lord loves to give gifts, spiritual and material, to his children, we should also note that Psalm 35:27 tells us to “Let the Lord be magnified, who takes pleasure in the prosperity of His servants.”.

So, would it be safe to say that the “great Christmas Tree miracle of 2014” was really the result of the members of our household and others happily blessing God. Our prepared hearts were praising and thanking him for the unusual testimony He had given us to share. I believe God was using us to get this point to a few others : He does want to bless you and care for you …… and truly that “ no good thing will He withhold from those who walk uprightly in Him. Blessed is the man that trusts in Him” (Psalm 84:11).

As much as I have grown to love having it in the corner of the living room, I may take it down today, simply because I don’t want folks to get the notion that it is about the tree. All blessings in this house come from the Lord. Our greatest gifts came in the birth, death and ultimately, the triumphant resurrection of Christ…..freedom from the bonds of sin, sickness, death and the promises of eternal life.

Though, I just might wait until after Jeremiah visits again so I can hear him say one more time “ I love it here, It is always Christmas.” Or maybe after Valentines …or Maybe Easter…or maybe until you show up to help. You get the picture!

Prayer:
Father, in the amazing Name of Jesus, we thank You for the amazing gift of Your son, Jesus Christ,and all the grace and pleasures You have afforded us under the covenant of His blood. Lord we do not take lightly the gifts, both spiritual and in the natural , that You have given us. We appreciate them and know that You bless us to be a blessing to others. Guide us as we use your resources and talents to glorify Your kingdom. Amen.