Every day brings unexpected challenges and opportunities. The key to managing the twists and turns is stability on the inside.

Watch night is an African-American tradition dating back to Dec. 31, 1862, when slaves from across the nation gathered in churches to pray and await the possibility of freedom. It started the night before the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation by Abraham Lincoln.

Those slaves waited patiently, hoping the document would be signed and loose the bonds of slavery in America. They believed their freedom was contingent upon one man. Yet, the Bible declares that Jesus Christ alone has the power to give us freedom: "'Therefore if the Son makes you free, you shall be free indeed'" (John 8:36, NKJV, emphasis added). read more

The church was electric with the power and presence of the Lord. Revival gatherings were taking place morning, noon and night. It was exhilarating as well as physically exhausting going at such a pace.

But God was obviously meeting deep needs among the children as well as the adults. Visitors were coming and going, and our home, like the church building, was the center of activity and wonderful fellowship.

I was just clearing the breakfast table and laughing with some of our guests when I heard a thump and a weak cry for help. Heading in the direction of the cry, I discovered 88-year-old Nana, who had been living with us for a number of years, on the floor. It was obvious that she had experienced a stroke. read more

Editor’s note: In 1983, Gracie Parker Rosenberger fell asleep at the wheel and experienced a horrific car accident that has led to more than six dozen operations … including the amputation of both legs. She wrote the following about her experience directly following her accident.

If “dismal” described the days, then “horrific” serves as a perfect word for the nights. Sleep came sporadically; staring at the ceiling waiting for the next pain medicine injection served as the only activity.

I lost count of how many times nurses and techs rolled me to surgery for debriding the wounds, adjusting the Hoffman device holding my severed right foot to my leg, and whatever other surgery I needed. Yearning to find any position of comfort, I resigned myself to never be anything other than truly miserable.

“Why is this happening to me?!” I screamed silently at the ceiling while fumbling with tubes and IV lines. Hurling my hurt, rage and despair at heaven, the groaning, tears and heartache flooded out of me. In the deluge of emotions, however, I heard another question in the farthest corner of my mind. read more