Grace Across Borders: Biblical Lessons and Global Legends

Faith. Life. Culture. Grace.

Weekly reflections to read or listen to, wherever you are.

Author: Tameka Edwards Gooden

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Writer, educator, veteran, and ministry leader sharing faith, life, and the lessons found along the journey. Creator of Grace Across Borders, where grace meets us wherever we are.
  • Grow Where You Are Planted

    Grow Where You Are Planted

    The Bamboo and the Oak: A Story of Strength in Stillness

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    In an old Asian folk tale, a mighty oak tree and a slender bamboo grew side by side. The oak towered high, with thick branches and a wide trunk. It didn’t move when the wind blew. It didn’t bend when the rains came. It was proud of its strength and stood like a statue, immovable.

    Beside it stood the bamboo—thin, flexible, and quiet. It bent with every breeze. It swayed with every storm. The oak mocked it.

    “You’re too soft,” the oak sneered. “Too weak. You move with everything. I stand tall. I resist. That’s real strength.”

    The bamboo said nothing.

    Then the storm came.

    It howled and roared with a fury the grove had never seen. Winds ripped through branches. Lightning lit up the sky. Trees groaned under the pressure.

    The oak stood tall—resisting. Refusing to move.

    The bamboo? It bent. It swayed. It bowed so low it nearly touched the ground. But it never uprooted.

    When morning came, the oak had fallen—split by the storm’s force, its great branches shattered.

    The bamboo, however, rose with the sun. Bent, but unbroken. Quiet. Still standing.

    Daniel: Growing in Exile

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    Now consider Daniel.

    Taken from his homeland. Given a new name. Surrounded by power, culture, and pressure to conform. He was offered the best of Babylon: luxury, opportunity, and food from the king’s own table.

    But Daniel—like the bamboo—did not resist with defiance. He didn’t raise his voice or demand his way.

    He simply chose not to eat.

    Daniel 1:12-13 (NIV)
    “Please test your servants for ten days: Give us nothing but vegetables to eat and water to drink. Then compare our appearance with that of the young men who eat the royal food, and treat your servants in accordance with what you see.”

    He quietly resolved not to defile himself with the king’s food (Daniel 1:8). No grand speech. No protest signs. Just faith. Just obedience.

    And what happened?

    Ten days later, he and his friends looked healthier and stronger than all the young men who ate the royal food (Daniel 1:15).

    The bamboo didn’t win by being loud; it endured by being faithful.
    Daniel didn’t grow strong by eating what the world offered; he grew strong by staying rooted in God’s word—even when no one else around him did.

    My Reflection: Faithfulness in Small Places

    My creation, the beauty is the many seeds underneath not seen.

    – Inspired by Daniel’s story and my 10pm garden moment

    It was 10 p.m., and I found myself dragging my husband outside to help me plant a garden by the roots of a tree I had been eyeing since I moved in—four years ago. I had made a vow to write my blogs every Wednesday, but tonight, I just couldn’t think of a topic or story I wanted to write about. So, instead, I gardened.

    Probably not the most logical thing to do that late at night.
    But there I was, digging into the earth, planting seeds under a dark sky, chasing clarity with every shovel of soil.

    About an hour later, as I watered the fresh soil and whispered a quiet hope to myself—“I hope they grow and come back yearly”—the topic came to me as clear as day:

    Grow where you are planted.

    Suddenly, the story of Daniel came rushing to mind.

    I thought of how Daniel, taken into exile, chose to honor his convictions even in a foreign land. How he begged the king’s men to let him eat the food he was accustomed to, instead of what they were serving. He told them, “Test me. See if I don’t grow stronger.” He didn’t fight the soil he was placed in—he grew in it.

    And as I stood there with the hose in my hand, I said, “Okay God, that’s the word. But what about my reflection?”

    Then it came to me.

    My Own Babylon: Teaching on Script

    My desk after I finished setting it up

    After I completed my bachelor’s degree in Elementary and Early Childhood Education at Queens College, I was hired at a charter school. I was excited, ready to implement everything I had learned. But truthfully, I had procrastinated on my edTPA, the portfolio needed to work in the public school system. So the charter school felt like a compromise I could live with. I was teaching. The pay was decent. And I didn’t have to deal with that dreaded edTPA—at least not yet.

    But what I didn’t realize was that I couldn’t teach my way.

    I had to follow their script—word for word. I was co-teaching, limited, boxed in. It was frustrating. I had the tools. I had the passion. But I didn’t have the freedom.

    Then something shifted. I was given a small reading group to work with. No one was really watching me. And finally—I got to do me.

    I implemented what I had been trained to do. I tailored my lessons to what my students needed. And my kindergarten students began reading at a second-grade level. By the time I left, they were edging into third-grade proficiency. It gave me great joy.

    When I resigned, I expected to pack my things and be shown the door—just like every other teacher before me. But instead, they asked me to finish out the week. I got to keep teaching my small group. They honored my work.

    I still remember walking around that day, telling teachers goodbye at 10 a.m. They hugged me, wished me well, as my plan was to go to the Navy. But at 4:30 p.m. at dismissal, there I was—still there.

    They looked at me, shocked:
    “Wait… you didn’t leave, you didn’t quit?”

    I came back the next day. And the next. I was the exception to their rule.

    That was God’s favor. (As my friend Asare reminded me today, that favor has always been my portion).

    It didn’t come from being loud or flashy. It came from God. He allowed me to grow right there in the middle of what felt like exile. I wasn’t where I wanted to be. But it was where I was planted. And God caused me to thrive.

    Final Thought: The Soil Isn’t the Point—The Growth Is

    Taking a selfie during orientation

    You might not be where you planned to be. You might feel like you’ve been placed in a difficult setting—Babylon, a storm, or a classroom with limits. But the good news is:
    You can still grow.

    God isn’t asking you to wait for ideal soil. He’s asking you to trust Him with the roots. Whether you’re a Daniel or a bamboo shoot, the principle is the same:
    Let God plant you. Stay faithful. Let the fruit speak.

    And when the storm passes—or when you’re called to move on—there will be evidence that you didn’t just survive.
    You thrived.

    Let the Message Take Root

    Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com

    Share the post, tap like, comment, and stay tuned for more.

  • No Condemnation: From the Village to the Cross

    No Condemnation: From the Village to the Cross

    Sacrifice in the Village

    Photo by Suraphat Nuea-on on Pexels.com

    “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” – Romans 8:1

    In the hills of West Africa, long before colonizers drew borders and cities sprouted, there lived a village known for its justice. The elders would gather under the baobab tree to settle disputes. Their judgments were fair, their punishments swift. But one day, something unexpected disrupted their tradition.

    A young woman named Adebayo stood trembling before the elders. A prized pot had been stolen from the home of a respected elder, and all evidence pointed to her. The village whispered. She had always been quiet, poor, and easily overlooked. A perfect scapegoat.

    The trial was brief. The pot was found buried near her home. The punishment? Exile. Adebayo would be cast out to wander beyond the edge of the village, where wild beasts and worse things waited.

    But just before the sentence was passed, an older woman stepped forward. She was not family. She had no obvious reason to interfere. But with steady eyes, she spoke:

    “If someone must leave so the village can be clean, let it be me. I will go in her place.”

    Gasps rippled through the crowd. No one had ever heard of such a thing. Yet the elders, struck by the woman’s courage—and perhaps their own uncertainty—allowed it.

    The woman walked out of the village alone. Adebayo remained—forever changed by mercy.

    Sacrifice of Christ

    Photo by Francesco Paggiaro on Pexels.com

    Centuries later, the story repeated—not in a dusty village square, but on a hill called Calvary.

    Humanity stood condemned. We had broken the sacred trust, torn the covering of holiness meant to protect and connect us to God. Like Adebayo, we were guilty—caught red-handed in rebellion, selfishness, and shame.

    But instead of watching us bear the weight of eternal consequence, Jesus Christ, the Son of God, stepped forward. At the cross, He did the unthinkable: He claimed our guilt as His own.

    “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”
    Romans 8:1 isn’t just a verse—it’s the heartbeat of grace.

    It means that, like Adebayo’s story, Christ bore the shame so we could be free. He didn’t excuse the wrongdoing—He absorbed it. The penalty was real, but His love was greater. Through Him, the judgment was satisfied, and the guilty declared righteous.

    In a world that often casts stones and clings to judgment, the gospel crosses all borders—cultural, spiritual, and emotional—to speak a new word: forgiven.

    No Condemnation: Grace Beyond Borders and Shame

    My son and daughter share a selfie.

    When I came to the United States, it was supposed to be temporary. A visit. Nothing more. If you know Jamaica, you’ll understand. I had my life there, I just started Bible college and my own business, and raising my son and my niece. Life was moving forward with purpose. But then, my son got sick, and by the time I realized that the doctors were more focused on stealing the insurance money than admitting they found nothing wrong, my time to legally remain here had expired. If I went back, I may not have been allowed to return—and I couldn’t risk my son’s care.

    So I stayed. Devastated. Displaced. Quietly grieving a life that was unraveling.

    My marriage was already falling apart. So, staying in the U.S. felt like the only choice left. I used to tell people, when asked when I would have another child, that “I’ll have another when my son turns five.”

    When he was just three and sick, I was alone and barely holding things together. The idea of another child wasn’t even a whisper in my prayers.

    Then, I got pregnant.

    Out of wedlock.

    The outward unforgivable sin.

    The sin that leads so many young women to abortion, to isolation, to lifelong depression. (Anyway, I digress…)

    It was the kind of moment that can easily bring shame, especially in a community that values marriage and purity. And to be honest, I understood why. The church wasn’t trying to condemn me—they were trying to protect the youth, to set a standard they hoped others would follow. They didn’t want my path to be one others would use to justify choices that can come with real challenges. I get it. I truly do.

    But still, I felt judged. I felt watched. And it almost drove me away—not just from the church, but from the calling God had placed on my life.

    I didn’t run, though. I showed up every Sabbath except one. What people didn’t know is that God had already spoken to me—not once, but twice. The first time, a pastor told me the day after the act that a child would come. The second time, I had a dream a week later. My daughter was no mistake. She was a message. A gift. A confirmation that even in my uncertainty, God was still speaking.

    And when my son turned five—just as I’d always said—I held my daughter in my arms and cried. Not because she wasn’t wanted. But because I remembered: God had not forgotten me. Even though I wasn’t married, even though I felt disqualified, He still gave me the desire of my heart.

    Still, the shame was heavy.

    It wasn’t that anyone said cruel things to my face. But there was a quiet discomfort that sat in the pews beside me. I wasn’t seen the same way. And I understand that too. We sometimes forget that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). We forget the words Jesus spoke:
    “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.” (John 8:7)

    But God never forgot. He never turned away.

    The truth is, I let shame sit where purpose once lived. I took myself out of ministry, convinced I had messed up beyond repair. But the voice of the Holy Spirit never stopped whispering.

    And now I know:
    There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.
    Not for me. Not for you.
    Not for the one who broke the rules but clung to the cross.
    Not for the one who sat in silence, waiting for permission to return.

    God’s grace reaches past borders—borders of geography, sin, shame, and man-made disqualifications. He meets us where we are, not where people think we should be.

    This past youth Sabbath, we traveled from Illinois to New York, where I sat and listened to my 20-year-old son bring the word, and my daughter, who will be 15 next month, do the opening prayer. All I can think of is what if…?

    Please, like, subscribe, comment, and share

    Photo by Katerina Holmes on Pexels.com

    This post is longer than the norm because I think so many need to know that God loves us more than people think. His grace is sufficient. He did not come for perfect people; there is room at the cross for you.

    Please like, subscribe, comment, and share if you were blessed.

  • When Running Isn’t the End: Grace for the Ones Who Flee

    When Running Isn’t the End: Grace for the Ones Who Flee

    Hi, I’m Tameka! Welcome to Grace Across Borders, where timeless wisdom from the Bible meets folk tales from around the world.

    What if grace doesn’t look like fixing, but like finally walking away?

    As someone who’s crossed physical and emotional borders—from Jamaica, to the U.S., and from heartbreak to healing—I’ve learned that grace has many faces. Sometimes, it looks like a second chance. Sometimes, it looks like letting go.

    🐋 Jonah: A Prophet’s Journey of Reluctance and Redemption

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    The story of Jonah, found in the Old Testament, is a powerful example of how God’s grace can reach even the most unwilling hearts. Jonah was a prophet—someone chosen by God to deliver messages to the people. One day, God commanded him to go to the city of Nineveh, known for its wickedness, and warn them to change their ways or face destruction.

    But Jonah didn’t want to go. He didn’t believe the people of Nineveh deserved mercy, and he feared what might happen if he confronted them. So instead of obeying, he boarded a ship headed in the opposite direction, trying to escape both his calling and God.

    God sent a violent storm to stop the ship. When the sailors discovered Jonah was the cause, they reluctantly threw him overboard to calm the sea. Jonah was then swallowed by a great fish—often described as a whale—where he spent three days and nights. In that darkness, Jonah cried out to God, confessed his fear and disobedience, and asked for another chance.

    God heard Jonah’s prayer and had the fish spit him out onto dry land. Jonah finally went to Nineveh and delivered God’s message. To his surprise, the people listened, repented, and turned away from their evil. In response, God showed them compassion and spared their city.

    Jonah’s journey reminds us that we can’t outrun our purpose. And even when we resist, God still offers grace—not just to us, but through us, for the sake of others.

    Jonah 2:2 (NIV):
    “In my distress I called to the Lord, and he answered me. From deep in the realm of the dead I called for help, and you listened to my cry.”

    🕊️ The Crane Wife: A Tale of Love, Sacrifice, and Trust

    Photo by Shamit Jangra on Pexels.com

    From Japanese folklore comes the poignant story of The Crane Wife. A kind-hearted man finds and rescues an injured crane. Not long after, a mysterious and beautiful woman appears at his door, and they soon marry. To support their life together, she weaves stunning silk fabrics with a simple condition: he must never watch her while she works.

    Their lives improve with the magical cloth, but the man’s curiosity grows. Unable to resist, he spies on her one day—and to his shock, he discovers that his wife is actually the crane he once saved. She is weaving the silk by plucking her own feathers, sacrificing herself for their livelihood.

    Feeling betrayed by his broken promise, she quietly leaves, disappearing forever. This story reminds us how love is often wrapped in sacrifice and trust—and how fragile that trust can be.

    This tale is one of sacrificial love, hidden pain, and the fragile boundary between giving and losing oneself completely.

    💬 Reflection: Embracing Grace After Brokenness

    Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com

    That tale always reminds me of how easily we can lose ourselves trying to save someone else.

    I’ve been in relationships where I poured out all I had—emotionally, spiritually, even physically—hoping that love, persistence, and prayer would be enough.

    One of my ex-husbands, who passed away recently, was one of those stories. He treated me terribly at times, but I didn’t give up easily. He was physically, emotionally, and financially abusive, just to name a few. Like Jonah pleading with Nineveh, I tried tirelessly to get him to care for himself, to work on his health, and make better choices. I thought if I just loved harder, prayed more, or waited longer, something would change.

    But change never came.

    Eventually, I had to let go—not just of him, but of the version of myself that believed I could fix everything and everyone. Like the crane in the folktale, I gave and gave until I had nothing left. And like Jonah, I had to face the truth: some things are not mine to save, just for me to give the word. I had done all I could—spoken truth, offered love, prayed hard—but the outcome wasn’t mine to control.

    When he died, I felt a complicated grief—part sadness, part relief, and a quiet gratitude that I had already found love and healing before that final goodbye, though it took a couple of tries and rekindling. His passing stirred memories I thought I had buried, and yet, I knew I had made peace. I had loved. I had let go. And I had moved on—not perfectly, but faithfully.

    🌍 Grace That Moves Us Forward

    Photo by Keira Burton on Pexels.com

    These stories—Jonah’s reluctance, the crane’s heartbreak, and even my own—remind me that grace isn’t always about happy endings. Sometimes grace is found in the middle of the storm, or in the silence after someone leaves. Sometimes grace shows up in letting go and giving yourself permission to stop carrying what was never yours to fix.

    You can love someone and still walk away. You can hope and still heal. You can forgive and still choose peace.

    That, too, is grace.

    🤝 One Message, Many Stories: Grace Frees

    Whether through an ancient prophet, a grieving crane, or a woman like me—grace speaks across cultures, wounds, and regrets. It tells us: You are not alone. You don’t have to carry it all. You’re allowed to release it.

    If you’ve ever wrestled with letting go, if you’ve loved someone who couldn’t love you well, if you’ve had to accept that healing looks like walking away—this post is for you.

    Share Your Journey

    Have you ever had to let go of someone you loved deeply? What did grace look like for you? Share with others so they can be blessed by it too.
    And I’d love to hear from you—what’s one story in your life where you had to let go so that grace could do the rest?

  • When a Candle and Two Coins Light the Way: Finding Meaning in Small Acts

    When a Candle and Two Coins Light the Way: Finding Meaning in Small Acts

    The Little Candle in the Cave: Illuminating God’s Purpose in Our Lives

    Photo by Dhivakaran S on Pexels.com

    Hi, I’m Tameka! Welcome to another post from Grace Across Borders, where timeless wisdom from the Bible meets folk tales from around the world.

    In a world that celebrates boldness, brilliance, and big gestures, it’s easy to feel like what we have to offer isn’t enough. We compare ourselves to those with louder voices, larger platforms, or seemingly greater influence—and wonder if our quiet efforts even matter.

    Let me tell you a story.

    The Power of a Small Light: Why Your Quiet Contribution Matters

    Small candle illuminating cave drawings and writings
    A small candle reveals ancient drawings and writings on the cave wall.
    Image generated with the assistance of Perplexity AI.”

    In the heart of a vast, pitch-black cave, countless torches blazed and lanterns gleamed, their flames dancing proudly against the darkness. Among them stood a tiny candle—humble, quiet, and often overlooked. Its flame was delicate, barely a whisper of light compared to the roaring brilliance of the others.

    The candle often wondered why it was even there. “What use is my small glow,” it thought, “when these mighty flames can light up the whole cavern?”

    Day after day, the candle flickered silently, unsure of its purpose.

    Then, one evening, a lone traveler stepped into the cave. The large torches lit the main paths—bright, direct, and obvious. But the traveler, curious by nature, noticed a subtle glimmer from a narrow side tunnel. It was the little candle, burning quietly in the distance.

    Drawn to its gentle glow, the traveler followed. The farther they walked from the main passage, the dimmer the surroundings became—until the only light was that of the little candle.

    But as they ventured deeper, something astonishing happened.

    The flicker of the small flame began to reveal what the brighter torches had missed: ancient drawings etched into the stone, faded symbols of a forgotten people, inscriptions that had waited centuries to be seen. The candle’s soft glow didn’t blind—it invited. It didn’t dominate—it revealed. Its humble flame brought to light the hidden wonders lying just beneath the surface.

    Awestruck, the traveler turned to the little candle and whispered, “Your light may be small, but it has unveiled treasures the bright lights could not reach.”

    And in that moment, the candle stood taller—not in size, but in purpose.

    This story serves as a quiet but powerful reminder: You don’t have to be the brightest to make a difference. Sometimes, it is the softest light that leads others to the deepest truths.

    Biblical Parallel: The Widow’s Offering

    The Widow's Offering with distinct disciples in the background
    The Widow’s Offering: Jesus and his disciples witness true generosity.
    Image generated with Perplexity AI.

    As crowds gathered at the temple treasury, many wealthy individuals made grand displays of their offerings. The clink of heavy coins filled the air, and eyes turned in admiration. But in the midst of the bustle, an unnoticed woman stepped forward. A widow—already marginalized by society and weighed down by poverty—approached quietly and dropped in two small copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny.

    To most observers, her act was insignificant, even forgettable. But not to Jesus.

    “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others.” Mark 12:43

    In just a few words, Jesus flips the script on how we measure value. Others gave out of their surplus; she gave out of her lack. Her offering wasn’t large in amount—but it was enormous in devotion. It was a gift that came from the depths of faith, trust, and surrender.

    Her story reminds us that God is not impressed by numbers or appearances, but by the heart behind the gift. The widow’s two coins, though materially small, were spiritually priceless.

    We are challenged to consider: What do we offer to God? Do we give Him what’s left over—or do we give Him our all, trusting that He sees and honors even the smallest acts of faith?

    A Wee Bit of Light and Two Small Coins

    No photo description available.
    Sometimes, your light shines brightest when you’re just being present.
    At Aldon and Terri’s wedding (2023), filled with joy, grace, and a reminder of God’s goodness. 💛
    📷: Captured by my lovely sister-in-law, Shereen

    As I reflect on the story of the little candle—how its small flame revealed ancient wonders in a vast, dark cave—I’m reminded of the ways we each carry light. Some shine bright and bold like lanterns, while others glow gently and persistently like candles. But all are needed.

    I think about my own light, and the way I celebrate life. Recently, I turned 43, but I always joke that I’m “just a wee bit 21.” My daughter laughs, and my son (who just turned 20) rolls his eyes—but it always makes people smile. Friends and family text every year asking, “So… are we finally 22 yet?”

    It may seem small, even silly—but it’s sincere. A tiny spark of joy that I’ve found brings light into the lives of others.

    Crowned in joy, wrapped in grace. Birthday Queen 2024 ✨
    A special moment caught by my sweet girl, Dominique.

    And as I reflect further (My Professor, Laura Otto would be proud. Thank you!), I’m reminded of a time during my military service when I faced serious financial hardship, after injury and car accidents. I was sent to financial counseling, and after reviewing my expenses, the specialist said, “You’re giving too much to the church. You need to stop until you’re stable.”

    I remember calmly telling him, “I’m sorry, but my tithes are non-negotiable.”

    He wasn’t pleased. He even questioned why the church wasn’t helping me more. But the truth is, the church owed me nothing. I give because God instructed me to, and I trust His promises. He meets my needs, not all my wants.

    That moment reminded me of the story of the poor widow in Mark 12:41–44. She gave two small coins—everything she had. Others gave out of their wealth, but she gave out of her lack. Jesus saw that, and called it more valuable than all the others combined. Her gift, though tiny in the world’s eyes, carried eternal weight.

    Just like her two coins, just like my tiny birthday joke, and just like the little candle in the cave—our contributions don’t have to be big. But they must be genuine.

    I even increased my giving after that financial counseling session—not out of pride, but out of a desire to prove God, to live out Malachi 3:10. And though I’m not completely out of debt, my family is provided for. We have food, shelter, even a little travel here and there. Looking back, He not only replace my car with a better one, but provided one for my son that needed it. God is my source, and I trust Him.

    Whether it’s a laugh, a tithe, a whispered prayer, or a kind word—your light matters.

    So shine. Even if you’re just a wee bit 21.

    Reflecting on Our Own Light

    “Celebrating with this uplifting anthem by Positive 🎶 ▶️ Listen here: Blessing After Blessing – Positive (Lyric Video)
    #Birthday2025 #GratefulHeart #BlessingAfterBlessing #PositiveVibes #GospelMusic #FBPost

    🌟 Recognize Your Value: Like the little candle that revealed hidden treasures in the dark cave, our unique contributions—though they may seem small—can have a profound impact.

    🙏🏽 Trust in God’s Perspective: Just as the widow’s two coins meant more to Jesus than the riches of others, our sincere efforts matter deeply in God’s kingdom, even when others don’t see their worth.

    💡 Shine Where You Are: Don’t wait for perfect conditions. Your light, your presence, your faith—right where you are—can brighten someone else’s path.

    A Call to Shine

    Photo by Bich Tran on Pexels.com

    Are there areas in your life where you feel like a small candle in a vast cave? Remember, it’s not about how big your light is—it’s about your courage to keep shining.

    ✨ How can you use your unique gifts, humor, generosity, or faith to illuminate the way for others?

    I’d love to hear your story—comment below and let’s build a community that celebrates every light, no matter the size.

    Share the blog so that others can embrace it…

    Photo by RF._.studio _ on Pexels.com

    Thank you for being here.

  • The Lost

    The Lost

    “What’s small to the world may be priceless in the hands of grace.”

    The Lost Coin in the Market

    Photo by Al Ameen Saddiq on Pexels.com

    In a Middle Eastern village long ago, a woman known only as Zara ran a small market stall selling dates and spices. She wasn’t wealthy, but every week she carefully set aside one silver coin from her earnings—a future gift for her daughter’s wedding.

    One busy afternoon, in the noise and bustle of the market, that precious coin slipped from her pouch and vanished. People brushed past her as she dropped to her knees, eyes scanning the dust and stone, hands shaking.

    “Why do you care so much?” a merchant mocked. “It’s only one coin!”

    But they didn’t understand.

    It was hers.
    It mattered.
    It represented hope, love, and purpose.

    So she swept her stall. Moved every jar. Crawled beneath the table. And when she finally saw it—glinting beneath a crate—she cried aloud and gathered her friends.

    “Celebrate with me! What was lost is found!”

    Jesus Told a Story Just Like That

    Photo by Orlando Allo on Pexels.com

    In the Bible, Jesus often used simple stories, known as parables, to teach profound truths. One of these stories is about a woman who loses a coin, and it’s found in the Gospel of Luke. It’s not just a story about a lost coin—it’s about something much deeper, something far more precious than money.

    Jesus tells us:

    “Or suppose a woman has ten silver coins[a] and loses one. Doesn’t she light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it? 9 And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.’ 10 In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”
    — Luke 15:8 (NIV)
    Read the parable here →

    watch the story here

    Jesus doesn’t just talk about a coin being found, He’s showing us the heart of God for people. The woman’s diligence in searching for her lost coin is symbolic of the relentless pursuit of God for those who are lost.

    The coin itself, though small and seemingly insignificant, represents each individual who has strayed from God’s love. Jesus often pointed out how the world overlooks certain people—those who are poor, broken, and cast aside—but God sees them, and He is willing to go to great lengths to find them.

    Just as the woman doesn’t stop until she finds the coin, God doesn’t stop searching for us. This story is not just about finding something of value—it’s about the value God places on every single person.

    My Coin Moments

    Photo by Vika Glitter on Pexels.com

    I’ve had my own “coin moments.”
    I ran away from home once. It seems like a lifetime ago, but I did. I sought refuge with someone I trusted. They tried to give me to grown men who promised to keep me for a while until I wanted to go back home because they could not.

    I remember watching them, sizing me up, and then stepping out to have a discussion. I eavesdropped and overheard them discussing how much money they could make from me. (I assumed they wanted to either pimp me out or, worse). I didn’t wait to find out. I grabbed my bag and ran.

    Days later, safe at my uncle’s house, my picture flashed across the television, alerting him that I was missing and that my parents were looking for me. By the time I packed my things to leave before they arrived (I was sure I was dead for running away), they were at the door.

    My parents didn’t live near my uncle, and I’m still not sure how they got there so quickly. But I remember bracing myself for yelling and screaming, only to be met with a warm embrace and a plea to never do it again.

    Just like how my parents never stopped searching, our heavenly Father did the same.

    He never stopped searching.
    Even when I ran.
    Even when I doubted.
    Even when I believed I was too far gone, He still called me His.

    A Personal Realization

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    Now, through my pursuit for a future in chaplaincy and counseling, I’ve come to realize: sometimes the lost coin becomes the one who searches.

    Just as God seeks us with an unwavering love, those who have been found often find themselves compelled to seek out others. It’s through personal healing and growth that we begin to understand the value of being a beacon of light to those who feel lost. In my journey, I’ve come to see that the calling to serve others often comes from knowing what it feels like to be lost and needing to be found.

    You Matter More Than You Know

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    Friend, maybe you’ve felt small.
    Maybe you’ve questioned your worth.
    But let this story remind you: He sees you.

    Just like the woman, God lights a lamp, sweeps the house, and searches until He finds what was lost. The joy in heaven when a lost soul is found reflects the deep love and care God has for each of us. No matter how lost we feel, God is always searching for us and ready to welcome us home with open arms.

    Jesus’ message through this parable is clear: every person matters to God. His love is active, unchanging, and never-ending. Just as the woman rejoiced over her lost coin, God rejoices when we return to Him.

    💬 Let’s Reflect

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    • Have you ever felt like a “lost coin”—overlooked or misplaced?
    • What helped you feel found again?

    Drop a comment below 👇—your story might be the light someone else needs today.

    Extra Reading:

    This parable is only one in a series of stories where Jesus talks about what is lost being found. In the earlier part of Luke 15, He also shares the story of a shepherd leaving ninety-nine sheep behind to search for the one that’s lost (Luke 15:3-7). And later, He tells the story of a father welcoming his prodigal son back home (Luke 15:11-32). These stories are meant to show us that God’s love is unwavering. His pursuit of us is not passive—it is active, urgent, and full of grace.

  • Faith in Action: The Bridge That Built Itself

    Faith in Action: The Bridge That Built Itself

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    Sometimes, the first step is what makes the path appear.

    Photo by Bastian Riccardi on Pexels.com

    In an old Eastern European folktale, there’s a story of a village hidden deep in the mountains. For generations, the only way in or out was a narrow, dangerous trail that curved around cliffs and through dense forest. When war came to the land, a young girl named Mila was tasked with delivering medicine to a neighboring village on the other side of the gorge.

    But when she arrived at the edge of the great divide, she saw what she feared most: the bridge was gone. No wood. No rope. Just mist and the wide, dangerous drop.

    She was ready to turn back—until she remembered what her grandmother once told her:

    “Walk forward in faith, and the bridge will rise beneath your feet.”

    It sounded foolish. But with trembling hands and a pounding heart, she stepped forward…

    And as her foot touched the air, a plank appeared.

    Then another.

    And another.

    She crossed the entire chasm—not because the path was clear, but because she chose to walk anyway.

    Peter Walked Too

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    This old story reminds me of Peter walking on water.

    He saw Jesus walking on water and asked to come out and meet him on the water. Jesus gave him permission.

    He didn’t ask for a boat. He didn’t wait for perfect conditions. He saw Jesus, heard the call, and stepped out.

    “Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind… he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’”
    — Matthew 14:29–30 (NIV)
    Read the full story here →

    What an opportunity he had to walk to Jesus. What a wonderful way to show trust in our God.

    Peter didn’t walk on water because he had confidence in himself. He walked because he had confidence in the One who called him. Jesus.

    When I Stepped Into the Unknown

    A selfie at one of my many hospital visits after the military, to try to fix something two surgeries didn’t.

    I’ve had to take those same shaky steps, especially when I left the military, broken and uncertain. I did not guess I would be back in school making a blog. This blog.

    But life, like that missing bridge, collapsed beneath me.

    Still, God whispered, “Walk forward.”
    And He showed up.

    He used me in bootcamp when others were scared and broken—speaking peace and purpose into young lives in dark places.

    He opened a new path when I began pursuing chaplaincy—a calling I once ran from, but now walk toward, plank by plank.

    Keep Walking

    Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com

    Sometimes faith doesn’t look like strength.
    Sometimes it looks like one scared step into the unknown.
    And sometimes, that’s all it takes for the bridge to appear beneath your feet.

    Please keep walking and do not give up!

    What About You?

    Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko on Pexels.com
    • Is there something God has called you to do that doesn’t make sense yet?
    • Are you waiting for the whole path before taking the first step?

    I invite you to reflect and share:
    👣 What “bridge” are you waiting on, and what’s stopping you from taking that first step?

    Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com

    Let’s walk forward—together—trusting that each act of obedience invites God to show up in powerful, unexpected ways.

  • The Weaver’s Thread: Finding God’s Hand in Life’s Unraveling

    The Weaver’s Thread: Finding God’s Hand in Life’s Unraveling

    The Weaver’s Thread: Finding God’s Hand in Life’s Unraveling

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    Hi, I’m Tameka! Welcome to Grace Across Borders, where timeless wisdom from the Bible meets folk tales from around the world.

    When Life Feels Like Loose Threads

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    Have you ever looked at your life and thought, This wasn’t supposed to happen? Maybe you started with a clear vision—dreams in your heart, plans in place—but then everything unraveled. A setback here, a betrayal there, and suddenly, what once seemed certain now feels like a tangled mess of unanswered prayers and lost hope.

    The Tale of the Weaver

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    In an old village, there was a weaver who spent his life creating a single masterpiece. His loom was his altar, and his hands moved with purpose. But life was unkind—storms tore through his shop, thieves stole his finest threads, and at times, his own hands trembled with doubt. Yet, he kept weaving.

    One day, a traveler scoffed, “Why do you keep going when so much has been lost? Your design will never be perfect.”

    The weaver only smiled. “Stop back when it is finished,” he said. “Only then will you see the beauty hidden in the imperfections.”

    The traveler left unconvinced. But when the tapestry was unveiled months later, it told a story richer and more beautiful than anyone had imagined. The misplaced threads added depth, the frayed edges framed the piece in unexpected grace. The flaws had not ruined the work—they had made it whole.

    Joseph’s Story: From Pit to Palace

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    The Bible story of Joseph: Joseph’s life was much like that tapestry—stitched together with betrayal, loss, and redemption. He went from being his father’s favorite son, wrapped in a coat of many colors, to being sold into slavery by his own brothers. Just as things seemed to improve, false accusations landed him in prison.

    To anyone watching, his story looked like a series of misfortunes. But, like the weaver, God was at work behind the scenes.

    His years in slavery? Training for leadership.
    His time in prison? Preparation for his greatest purpose.
    When he finally stood before Pharaoh as second-in-command over Egypt, it all made sense.

    The pain, the waiting, the detours—they weren’t wasted. They were woven into something greater.

    (Read Joseph’s full story in Genesis 37-50.)

    When My Life Felt Like Loose Threads

    I know what it’s like to feel like life has unraveled. After my recent surgery, complications forced me back to the ER—not once, but five times. I found myself facing uncertainty, battling both physical pain and the weight of questions that had no immediate answers. It reminded me of a moment I had experienced before when I had to put my dreams of ministry on hold for my son’s health. At the time, it felt like I had lost something I could never regain.

    And then, there was the military. I joined, believing I would serve 20 years, retire with a pension, and leave behind a legacy—benefits my children could use, including the GI Bill for their education. I had a plan, a purpose, a clear path.

    But life doesn’t always follow our blueprints.

    Instead of 20 years, I left broken and hurt, medically retired far sooner than I had ever imagined. My plan unraveled, and for a while, I struggled to understand what was left.

    Yet, even in that, God was still weaving. Today, I am still retired, but now, I’m using the same GI Bill I had planned for my children to rediscover my own purpose, because I medically retired, my family gets their own benefits. What I once thought was lost has become the very thread God is using to guide me into something new.

    Keep Trusting the Process

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    So, keep believing. Keep walking in faith. One day, you’ll step back and see that what felt like chaos was actually grace in disguise.

    Maybe you’re in a season where life feels tangled. Maybe the dreams you had seem unreachable. But just like Joseph, just like the weaver, your story isn’t finished yet.

    ✨ Reflect: Where in your life do you need to trust God’s timing?
    ✨ Pray: Ask God for patience and faith in the process.
    ✨ Share: If this story encouraged you, pass it along to someone who needs to hear it today

    No thread is wasted. No pain is meaningless. When the time is right, you’ll see the masterpiece He has been creating all along.

    Join the Conversation

    Photo by Cup of Couple on Pexels.com

    We all face moments where life feels like it’s unraveling. But you’re not alone in this journey. I’d love to hear how you’ve seen God weave beauty in the chaos of your life.

    💬 Comment below and share your thoughts or experiences. What “loose threads” have you had to trust God with, and how has He shown His grace through those challenges?

    Your story may be the encouragement someone else needs today!

  • Ruth’s Journey: Faith, Migration, and the Unexpected Blessings of Obedience.

    Ruth’s Journey: Faith, Migration, and the Unexpected Blessings of Obedience.

    Hi, I’m Tameka! Welcome to Grace Across Borders, where timeless wisdom from the Bible meets folk tales from around the world.

    This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is pexels-photo-9821085.jpeg
    Photo by Sergei Gussev on Pexels.com

    Migration is never just about moving from one place to another; it’s about transformation, faith, and perseverance. The story of Ruth in the Bible reflects the experience of many who leave behind the familiar, stepping into the unknown with only faith as their guide. As I reflect on my own journey, I see echoes of Ruth’s story in my migration, my return to ministry, and even in the cultural stories of resilience from my homeland.

    But Ruth’s story is not just about migration—it’s also about love. After a painful loss, she found unexpected joy and companionship. My journey has mirrored hers in many ways—not just in leaving home but also in finding love after a season of emptiness.

    Ruth: A Migrant with Unshaken Faith

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    Ruth’s story begins with loss. Her husband dies, and she faces a choice: return to her own people in Moab or stay with Naomi, her mother-in-law, and follow her to Bethlehem. Despite the uncertainties, Ruth chooses to remain, uttering the famous words to her mother-in-law:

    “Where you go, I will go; where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God.” — Ruth 1:16

    This decision is not just about loyalty to Naomi but about embracing a new identity and faith. In Bethlehem, Ruth works hard, gleaning in the fields to survive. Her diligence and faithfulness eventually lead to unexpected blessings—she marries Boaz, and through their lineage comes King David and, ultimately, Jesus Christ.

    Yes, Jesus Himself came from Ruth’s bloodline. Though she was a Moabite—an outsider—God chose her to be part of the genealogy of the Messiah, showing us that faith, not background, defines our place in His plan. (See Matthew 1:5-16).

    Ruth’s story teaches us that faith-led migration is not just about survival but about stepping into divine purpose.

    A Cultural Story: The Woman Who Crossed the Waters

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    In Caribbean folklore, there is a story of a young woman named Anika who left her island home in search of a better life. Her grandmother, fearing she would forget her roots, gave her a small jar of island soil and said, “No matter where you go, remember where you come from.”

    Anika arrived in a foreign land where she faced challenges—people questioned her accent, she struggled to find work, and at times, she felt invisible. But she remembered her grandmother’s words. Every night, she would hold the jar of soil, pray, and remind herself of the strength of her ancestors.

    Over time, Anika built a life. She found a community, shared her culture, and even started a school to help children from immigrant backgrounds. Like Ruth, she stepped into the unknown, held onto faith, and found unexpected blessings along the way.

    Stories like Anika’s are common in migration history. Many have left their homelands in search of a new beginning. Explore real-life migration stories here.

    My Journey: Leaving, Returning, and Trusting

    Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com

    Like Ruth and Anika, my journey has been about leaving and returning. Leaving my home country meant stepping into a world of uncertainties, navigating cultural shifts, and sometimes feeling like an outsider. But like Ruth, I trusted God’s plan, even when the path was unclear.

    I felt a calling to pastoral ministry for years, yet I ran from it. Life took me in different directions—education, family, responsibilities—but the calling never left. Recently, I’ve found myself in a season of returning, much like Ruth’s return to Bethlehem. The path back to ministry isn’t just about resuming where I left off; it’s about embracing a new identity shaped by my journey, my struggles, and my growth.

    Finding Love After a Season of Emptiness

    Photo by Jasmine Carter on Pexels.com

    Ruth’s story is also one of restoration. After losing her first husband, she likely never imagined finding love again. Yet, as she walked in faith, God led her to Boaz—a man who honored her worth, provided for her, and became her partner in building a new life.

    For a long time, I, too, lived in a season of emotional emptiness. I knew what it was like to be in a marriage without love, where companionship was just a word rather than a reality. Like Ruth, I remained faithful, but I also wondered—was true love meant for me?

    I didn’t know then that God was preparing something greater. That after years of loneliness, I would find someone who would love me the way I deserved. Someone who, like Boaz, would see my worth, not just in what I could give but in who I was.

    Finding love again after heartbreak was like stepping into the fields of Boaz—unexpected, humbling, and filled with grace. It reminded me that God is not just a God of restoration in one area of life, but in all things—including love, joy, and companionship.

    Lessons from Ruth: Walking by Faith, Not by Sight

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    Ruth’s story, much like migration, love, and life itself, reminds us that:

    • Faith requires bold choices. Leaving behind the familiar isn’t easy, but God often calls us to step out in faith.
    • Hard work and integrity open doors. Ruth didn’t wait for blessings—she worked, and through her labor, God provided.
    • God’s plan is bigger than what we see. Ruth didn’t know she would be part of the lineage of kings, but she trusted the journey.
    • Love can be found again. Even after loss, pain, and disappointment, God can bring someone who sees your true worth into your life.

    Whether we are migrating, stepping into a new calling, or waiting for love after heartbreak, Ruth teaches us that obedience and faith lead to unexpected blessings.

    What’s Your Ruth Story?

    Ruth’s journey of faith, migration, and unexpected blessings is one that many of us can relate to. Maybe you’ve left behind a place, a relationship, or a season of struggle, not knowing what’s ahead. Maybe, like Ruth, you’re stepping into the unknown, trusting that God’s plan is greater than what you can see.

    💬 I’d love to hear from you! Have you ever experienced a season of leaving and returning? A time when faith led you to something greater? Share your thoughts in the comments below or message me—I’d love to connect and encourage each other in our journeys.

    📢 If this post inspired you, share it! Someone in your circle might need to be reminded that restoration and new beginnings are possible.

    🙏 Let’s walk in faith together. No matter where we come from or what we’ve been through, God is writing a story of redemption in our lives.

    Photo by Christina Morillo on Pexels.com

    Links to the Stories

  • The Good Samaritan & The African Story of the Kind Stranger

    The Good Samaritan & The African Story of the Kind Stranger

    The Good Samaritan & The African Story of the Kind Stranger

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    Hi, I’m Tameka! Welcome to Grace Across Borders, where timeless wisdom from the Bible meets folk tales from around the world.

    Have you ever stopped to help a stranger in need? Or, perhaps you’ve received unexpected kindness from someone you least expected? In the timeless biblical parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus shares a powerful lesson on love and compassion. Interestingly, a similar story in African folklore echoes the same message. These stories transcend culture and time, reminding us that kindness isn’t just about helping those we know but also reaching out to those we might least expect.

    In this week’s Grace Across Borders story, we’ll explore the Good Samaritan parable alongside an African folktale about a kind stranger. Both stories challenge us to rethink who we consider worthy of our help—and how we can show mercy in our daily lives.

    The Good Samaritan: A Biblical Reflection

    In the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37), Jesus paints a vivid picture of compassion. A man is left beaten and robbed on the side of the road. Two men, a priest and a Levite, pass by without offering help. But a third man, a Samaritan (someone the Jews despised), stops, cares for the wounded man, and ensures he receives medical attention. Jesus uses this story to remind us that love and mercy are for everyone, regardless of who they are or where they come from.

    The Samaritan’s actions defy social boundaries and challenge us to step outside our comfort zones. In a world divided by prejudice and judgment, the Good Samaritan shows us that we’re all neighbors—and it’s our duty to love, support, and care for one another.

    Photo by Samantha Garrote on Pexels.com

    The African Folktale of the Kind Stranger

    In an African folktale, we hear the story of a traveler who is attacked by bandits and left to die on a desolate road. Three individuals come across him: a rich merchant, a village chief, and a poor farmer. The merchant and the chief, despite their wealth and influence, pass by without offering assistance. But the poor farmer, though struggling himself, stops to help. He gives his own food, binds the traveler’s wounds, and takes him to the nearest village, ensuring the stranger is cared for.

    This folktale, much like the Good Samaritan, highlights the transformative power of kindness. It teaches that even those with the least to offer can have the greatest capacity for mercy. It’s not about having much to give—it’s about being willing to give what you have, even when it seems like you don’t have enough.

    What These Stories Teach Us

    Both the Good Samaritan and the African folktale underscore the same central lesson: kindness knows no boundaries. They remind us that we are all called to show compassion, not just to those in our inner circles, but to strangers—those who might be different from us, those who might even be considered “the other.”

    In both stories, the ones who are expected to show kindness—the priest, the Levite, the rich merchant, and the chief—turn away, leaving the task of mercy to those who have little. Yet, these “outsiders” are the ones who show the most compassion, proving that love is not confined to one group or status.

    This isn’t just a lesson in charity—it’s a lesson in seeing the humanity in everyone, regardless of race, religion, or social class. When we show kindness, we are bridging divides and transforming lives

    Photo by Vie Studio on Pexels.com

    Show Mercy Today

    This week, ask yourself: Who can you show kindness to today? Is there someone in your community who needs a helping hand—whether it’s a stranger on the street or a friend who’s struggling in silence? Like the Good Samaritan or the kind stranger in the African folktale, you don’t need to have all the answers or resources. Sometimes, simply offering a listening ear, a small act of kindness, or even a smile can make all the difference.

    Closing Questions:

    When was the last time you helped someone in need? Or when did you last receive help when you least expected it? Every time I think about kindness, I think about a teacher I had, that showed me grace and changed my life. I would not be here if he did not offer the kindness of listening. How did the help change you? Share your experience in the comments, and let’s continue the conversation on kindness.

    How?

    How? You ask. Kindness is not always a grand gesture. It can be small things, like buying a coffee for someone behind you in line. It is about holding the door for the person coming behind you. Or just a simple smile for someone who could use it. Check in on your friends. Buy/pay for groceries for someone. Giving a dollar to the homeless person asking for it without caring what they will do with it. Kindness is contagious; let it start with us.

    Share

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    If this message resonated with you, share this post with someone who could use a reminder about the power of compassion. Together, we can create a ripple effect of kindness and mercy that crosses all boundaries.

    I am not sure who wrote this quote, but I love it. “Be The Change You Want To See In The World”

  • Grace Across Borders: Where Faith Meets Folklore

    Grace Across Borders: Where Faith Meets Folklore

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    Welcome Home

    Hi, I’m Tameka! Welcome to Grace Across Borders, where timeless wisdom from the Bible meets folk tales from around the world.

    As someone who’s experienced life across different cultures—moving from the Caribbean to the United States—I’ve come to understand that grace is a universal language. It speaks to us through stories, whether from sacred texts or the traditions passed down through generations.

    The Prodigal Son

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    The Bible tells us the powerful story of The Prodigal Son—a young man who squanders his inheritance on reckless living and returns home with nothing but regret and shame. Yet, instead of condemnation, he is met with open arms, unconditional love, and a feast in his honor. This parable reminds us that grace isn’t earned; it’s freely given, even when we feel least deserving.

    The Palm Wine Tapper and the Cunning Animal

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    Now, let’s cross the ocean to West Africa, where the folklore of The Palm Wine Tapper and the Cunning Animal echoes similar themes. In this tale, a poor palm wine tapper is tricked by a clever animal that steals his wine every night. When the tapper finally catches the animal, he is faced with a choice: exact revenge or offer forgiveness. Choosing compassion over wrath, the tapper and the animal form a friendship that enriches them both.

    Grace Heals and Transform

    Photo by Tara Winstead on Pexels.com

    Two stories, two cultures, one message: Grace heals and transforms. Whether it’s a father embracing a lost son or a man offering mercy to a trickster, the power of grace transcends borders.

    Snippet of My Story

    Through this blog, I hope to explore how these timeless teachings intersect to offer lessons of forgiveness, redemption, and second chances. I’m also on my own journey—pursuing chaplaincy to offer mental health and Christian counseling. My passion for understanding and forgiveness drives me, and I want to share that passion with you.

    For over 15 years, I ran from God’s calling on my life. I started Theology Seminary, but life had other plans. I had to move across borders because of my son’s health, and I thought that meant I had found my “get-out-of-jail-free card.” I completed a semester and tried to make it work.

    But God’s call never stopped. He wanted me to be in ministry, and He didn’t give up on me until I finally embraced what He had always called me to do.

    My story is much like the two stories we read above. I ran, but God made a way for me to return to my calling. He will do the same for you if you ask/return.

    Whether you’re spiritually curious, navigating life’s challenges, or simply love a good story, I invite you to reflect, heal, and grow with me here. Let’s discover together how grace, from all corners of the earth, continues to speak to us today.

    Share

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    What’s a story of grace that has touched your life—whether from faith, folklore, or personal experience? Share your story in the comments. I’d love to hear from you!

6 responses to “Grow Where You Are Planted”

  1. Tricia T Avatar
    Tricia T

    A word from God’s heart to yours. This is truly inspiring 🙏🏽

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
    1. TEdwardsGooden Avatar
      TEdwardsGooden

      Thank you so much, it is appreciated.

      Like

      Reply
  2. Georgia Edwards Avatar
    Georgia Edwards

    Very good read, more blessings my dear.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
    1. TEdwardsGooden Avatar
      TEdwardsGooden

      Thank you, Mom, for always being in my corner.

      Like

      Reply
  3. Marcia Avatar
    Marcia

    Thank you for this word ,it encourages me to do things differently.bless you .

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
    1. TEdwardsGooden Avatar
      TEdwardsGooden

      Thank you so much for your feedback. It is appreciated and encouraging.

      Like

      Reply

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Faith. Life. Culture. Grace.

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