We find we have little to guide us in our search and must put trust in the only power we have, that natural instinct that propels us toward creation, choice, liberation and change. We must yield to the challenge of becoming fully human and trust in our human processes in the hope that they will lead us there. Our challenge then is clear, to make as much of the illusion as possible a reality. After all, our reality is no more than what was once our illusion.

Without that forgiveness, that peace, no heart is ever happy. There is always an inner struggle. Pain. Only when God has been invited in-to manage one's life, to direct one's thinking, to be in control-can one ever get away from all the conflicts inside. We have to stop struggling against His will before we can find real joy.

The compass needle tells the truth, Beth, even in a storm. And then one must adjust the rest of one's circumstances in accordance—even though sometimes it feels amiss. It reminds me that the Bible is like that too. It tells us the truth, and then we must adjust our thinking, our actions, to match.

I really don't know. We should be wise enough to know we can trust Him with everything, but it seems as if He is forever needing to remind us—one thing at a time. Maybe it's because we just hang onto some things too tightly, wanting our own way too much.

Some dreams are meant to be handed over to God. To be remolded and redirected in keeping with his will. Sometimes our plans do not fit with the plans of God.

This is life in a fallen world, where wars come and go, where nations rage and people cry in torment. We must be strong, not in ourselves, but in Him. And trust that His love and His wisdom and His light will see us through.

Only God knows the plan he has for you. We must continue to pray for his will to be done. He has promised to answer, and he keeps his promises. So answer he will—in his own time and way. Whatever your future holds, this I know. He will not desert you. Your duty, my dear, is to seek his will and to walk in his way.

We can't do it on our own—none of us. We ask for His help—daily. Why, I remember my pa praying every morning that God would give him wisdom and power and patience for the day.

Today, as she sat in her room following prayer, she reflected on how their numbers had grown in a way they could not have if they had all remained in Jerusalem. This time Abigail allowed herself to give silent voice to her deepest questions. Was this why, Lord? Was Stephen the seed that, when planted in the ground, bore fruit? Did you use his death to scatter us for your purposes?

I was going to need help. I knew of only one true source readily available to me. I stopped for a few moments of prayer.

When men don't have God, they need substitutes. To my way of thinking, whiskey is a poor substitute—but many men depend upon it. But what I am angry about is that they didn't obey my orders.

Like women, life is unpredictable and a huge risk.