notesbynora

Waiting is one of the hardest things God ever asks us to do. As humans, we really don’t mind moving forward or working hard. In actuality, we don’t even mind a struggle if we can see what’s ahead and what’s at the end. 

But waiting?  Waiting is one of the worst, nothing anyone can do about it feelings in the world. 

Scripture tells us over and over that God does His deepest work in the waiting.

“I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in His word I put my hope.”
— Psalm 130:5

While many of us believe waiting is a waste of time, it never is. It’s the place where God strengthens faith, heals wounds, and prepares us for what’s next.

I think about all the times in my own life when I wanted answers right away — when I wanted clarity, healing, change, or a breakthrough. And God gently said, “Not yet.” Even now, as I type this devotion, I am living through such a season and have been waiting for quite some time. But, I know Who is in control. 

As I wait, I tell myself, “God is protecting me. God is preparing me. God is shaping things behind the scenes in ways I cannot see.”

It is easy to believe that nothing is happening. But spiritually? Everything is happening.

Waiting is where roots grow deeper, trust becomes real, and God removes what doesn’t belong and builds what does.

It’s in the waiting we learn to pray with honesty; to listen with humility; to surrender with peace; and to hope again, even when we’re tired.

And here’s the comfort: God is never late. Not once has He failed to show up at the exact moment we needed Him most.

If you’re in a waiting season today — waiting for answers, waiting for healing, waiting for restoration, waiting for direction — this is not punishment. It’s preparation.

Your story is developing. Your prayers are heard, and your life is not on pause.

You are in the hands of a God who uses waiting like a master craftsman — shaping, refining, strengthening, and aligning everything perfectly. And when the season shifts, and the door opens, and the answer comes, you will look back and say:

“Lord, You knew exactly what You were doing.”

Prayer

Father, help me trust You in the waiting. When my heart grows tired, remind me that You are working in ways I cannot see. Strengthen my faith, calm my spirit, and prepare me for the blessings You have already planned. I choose to wait with hope because I know You are faithful. Amen.

There are seasons in life when strength looks like courage and confidence, and there are seasons when strength looks like simply getting out of bed and choosing to try again.

Sometimes we underestimate what it means to be strong.  We believe strength means being in control. We think strength means not crying, not wavering, not needing help. But in God’s kingdom, strength looks different.

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

God isn’t asking you to be strong on your own. He’s asking you to lean into His strength — the strength that meets you right where you are. 

There is a kind of holy strength that rises from within:

• When your heart is broken, but you choose to love anyway.
  
• When you’re afraid, but you step forward with trembling faith.
  
• When you’re exhausted, but you refuse to give up.
  
• When you’ve been hurt, but you forgive.
  
• When you’ve lost much, but you still thank God for what remains.
  

That is the strength heaven applauds, not the strength born from self-reliance, but the strength born from surrender. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay or hide your tears to be strong. You don’t have to walk through the valley with a forced smile to be strong.

God sees the battle behind your obedience. He sees the courage it takes to keep going, and He hears the prayer whispered through tears, “Lord, help me.”

The truth is, you have already survived moments you thought would break you and have overcome storms you thought would swallow you. You’ve already walked through seasons you never imagined you could endure.

Although you may be tired and bruised, you are still standing because God stood with you. Your strength has never been about your own ability — it has always been about His faithfulness.

When you feel weak, He carries you. When you feel lost, He guides you. When you feel overwhelmed, He steadies you. When you feel empty, He fills you.

And today, He wants you to know:
You are stronger than you know — not because of who you are, but because of who He is within you.

Let His strength rise in you today. Let His peace steady your spirit. Let His presence remind you that you are never fighting alone.

Whatever you’re facing, God will give you the strength you need — day by day, moment by moment, breath by breath.

You don’t have to have tomorrow’s strength today.  You only need enough for this moment —
and God will supply it.

Prayer

Lord, thank You for being my strength when I feel weak. Help me lean into Your power, not my own. Remind me that I am never alone, and that in every moment of weakness, You are working through me. Give me courage for today and peace for tomorrow. Amen.

A Thanksgiving Devotional

Thanksgiving has a way of stirring the heart. It brings a softness… a remembering… a sacred pause to look back over the journey that has shaped us.

Because the truth is, we are a compilation of every memory we carry —
the good ones that make us smile,
the painful ones that make us stronger,
the people who celebrated us,
and the people who broke us.

We are made, not from one moment, but from all of them.

Every person we have loved…
every person we have lost…
every season that held joy…
and every chapter that held tears…
God has woven them together into the story of who we are today.

But how do we turn our losses — the missing chairs at the table, the relationships that shifted, the memories that ache — into thankfulness?

It starts with acceptance. Not the kind that pretends nothing hurt. But the kind that acknowledges the truth quietly before God:

“Lord, thank You for the time we had together… and thank You for carrying me through the time apart.”

Gratitude grows when we realize that even the people we lost were gifts. Even the seasons that broke us taught us something eternal. And even the moments that hurt still held pieces of grace inside them.

We can look back and say:

• Thank You, God, that I was loved — even if the season ended.
  
• Thank You for the memories — even if they came with tears.
  
• Thank You for the joy — even if it didn’t last forever.
  
• Thank You for the lessons — even when they were hard.
  
• Thank You for carrying me — always.
  

Thanksgiving isn’t about ignoring the pain. It’s about remembering the goodness of God in every chapter, even the ones we wouldn’t have chosen.

We can be thankful for the laughter that once filled our homes. Grateful for the people who shaped our hearts — whether they stayed or only walked with us for a while. Grateful for the love we got to experience. Thankful that God held us through the disappointments. Grateful that He never wastes a tear, a moment, or a memory.

The beauty of gratitude is this:

It turns what we lost into something we got to have. It turns what hurt into something God healed. It turns what ended into something God is still using.

Every chapter…
every person…
every joy…
every heartbreak…
is part of the story God is writing — a story still filled with hope.

This Thanksgiving, may we pause and honor our journey with tenderness. Not rushing past the grief, not denying the ache, but allowing gratitude to rise gently:

“Thank You, Lord, for every memory that made me who I am…
and for every piece of Your grace that brought me this far.”

Because even the hardest stories have threads of God’s goodness woven inside them. Even the painful moments have purpose. And even the losses can become places of deep, quiet thanksgiving —
for the love we knew…
the lessons we gained…
and the God who carried us through it all.

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Prayer

Father, thank You for my story — the joy, the pain, the people, the seasons, and the memories that shaped me. Help me see Your goodness in every chapter. Turn my losses into gratitude, my heartache into wisdom, and my memories into reminders of how faithfully You have carried me. Amen.

(Feel free to laugh. My children already have.)

Every family has their traditions. Some bake pies… Some watch football…
And I?  Well, I proudly put a 7-foot inflatable turkey in my front yard every Thanksgiving.

To the complete horror of my children.

Every year that turkey stood tall and proud — until one November when I couldn’t find him anywhere. I searched closets, the garage, the attic… and all the while my kids were “helping,” which looked suspiciously like standing still and praying the turkey had retired permanently.

I kept saying, “Look in the shed!”  “Check the basement storage closet!”  And my teenagers kept replying, “Hmm… nope… don’t see it,” with about as much enthusiasm as you’d expect.

I always put it in the same place every year after Thanksgiving. But mysteriously… the turkey had vanished.

So, as Thanksgiving approached, I resigned myself to buying a new one. Except… have you priced inflatable turkeys lately? Let’s just say inflation has hit the inflatables, too.

Then one day — like manna from heaven — I spotted the turkey at Goodwill. My turkey. THE turkey. The exact one.

I was ecstatic. Practically emotional. Goodwill even had the original box with it.

And on the back, written in Sharpie, clear as day: ALMAZAN.

My loving children had donated my turkey. To Goodwill. For $3.99.

So… I bought my own turkey back. I carried him home with dignity. Blew him up in the yard.
And when my teenagers asked where I found it, I said, “Oh, in the attic.”

And they all nodded. Not. One. Word.

Years later, after faithfully guarding my front yard, my turkey took his last inflatable breath and ascended to wherever giant yard turkeys go to rest.

But every Thanksgiving, when I see holiday decorations popping up everywhere, I remember him fondly…

My Goodwill turkey. My resurrected yard decoration. My $3.99 Thanksgiving miracle.

Hope your Thanksgiving is full of laughter, love, and maybe… just maybe… a giant inflatable turkey.

We live in a world that moves fast, reacts quickly, and often speaks before listening. A world where opinions spread like wildfire, and judgments are made without truth, compassion, or understanding. And sometimes — without even realizing it — we can get swept into that current.

But this is not the way of Jesus.

Scripture tells us, “Let your conversation be always full of grace…” — Colossians 4:6
And again, “Encourage one another and build each other up.” — 1 Thessalonians 5:11

Followers of Christ are called to a higher standard — a gentler standard. We are called to be a safe place in a world full of sharp edges.

1. Don’t Jump to Conclusions

It’s easy to assume the worst. It’s easy to fill in the gaps of someone’s story without knowing the facts, and easy to react to a rumor or a mistake with frustration or judgment.

But the Bible reminds us: “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.” — James 1:19

We rarely know the whole story. There is almost always more beneath the surface — pain, pressure, fear, trauma, misunderstanding, or a moment of weakness. Grace asks us to pause… and to withhold judgment until we know the truth.

2. Don’t Tear Others Down

The world is harsh enough. People carry wounds we never see — the last thing they need is a Christian adding to their hurt. When we speak, we should leave people better than we found them. Our words should not bruise — they should build – not crush — but comfort – not shame — but strengthen.

If our words don’t heal, they don’t reflect Him.

3. Care for Those Being Treated Badly

Jesus always moved toward the hurting — the woman caught in adultery, the leper cast out, the tax collector despised by his community. He never joined the crowd of accusers. He defended the vulnerable. He stood between the broken and the stones being thrown.

We are called to do the same. Sometimes kindness looks like sitting with the rejected. Sometimes love looks like speaking up when others are silent. Sometimes compassion looks like saying, “Enough. This isn’t right.”

4. Love Those Who Have Made Mistakes

People will fail.  People will stumble. People will make choices we can’t understand.

But Jesus never turned away from the repentant. He never humiliated the broken. He never posted about people’s failures for the world to see.

Grace doesn’t condone sin — but it does restore sinners.

5. Don’t Join the Crowd When Accusations Start

Crowds are loud. Crowds feel powerful. Crowds love a spectacle. But Jesus never followed the crowd — He confronted it.

When the Pharisees dragged the woman before Him and demanded judgment, Jesus knelt down in the dirt and dismantled their fury with one quiet sentence:

“Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.”

Before we join the crowd, Christ asks us to examine our own hearts.

6. Don’t Blast People on Facebook

Social media has become a place where people’s reputations can be destroyed in seconds. But as Christians, we carry a responsibility to use our platforms carefully. We are called to be peacemakers, not instigators. Encouragers, not accusers.

If a post doesn’t edify, heal, or honor God, it likely shouldn’t be posted.

7. Be the People Who Lift Others Up

The world needs more encouragers. More listeners. More gentle spirits. More people are willing to step out of the crowd and say, “Let’s choose grace today.”

We cannot control what others do, but we can choose the spirit we bring into the room — or onto the screen. Let us be people known for compassion. People who look for the good. People who slow down before speaking. People who defend the hurting. People who restore the fallen.  People who love like Jesus.

Prayer

Lord, make me a person who brings peace, not division. Give me a heart slow to judge and quick to show grace. Help me speak words that heal, protect those who are mistreated, and love those who have stumbled. Let my life reflect Your compassion in every conversation, every choice, and every post. Amen.

When we think about Mary Magdalene, we often think of her standing near the empty tomb on resurrection morning. But her story is so much deeper. It is a story of deliverance, devotion, and a love for Jesus so steady that she remained when others ran.

Mary wasn’t a woman of status or privilege. Scripture tells us she was a woman Jesus delivered from seven demons — a woman who had known bondage, torment, and darkness. When Jesus set her free, He didn’t just restore her mind; He restored her dignity, her purpose, and her identity.

From that moment on, Mary followed Him with her whole heart.

She was there during His ministry. She was there at the cross when others fled. She was there at His burial when hope seemed lost. And she was there at the tomb when the stone was rolled away.

Mary Magdalene stayed close. Her devotion wasn’t based on what Jesus could do for her — it was born out of what He had already done.

On the darkest day in history, when the sky grew black and Jesus breathed His last breath, Mary stayed. She didn’t run from the pain. She didn’t hide from the grief. Love held her in place.

And here’s the beautiful truth:

Because Mary Magdalene stayed, she was the first to see the risen Savior.

Not Peter.
Not John.
Not the disciples.

Mary.

A woman once bound in darkness became the first preacher of the resurrection. Jesus looked into the eyes of the one who stayed and entrusted her with the message that changed the world:

“Go and tell…”

What a beautiful reminder of God’s heart — He reveals Himself to those who remain close.

There are moments in our lives when God calls us to stay — to stay faithful, to stay prayerful, to stay steady even when circumstances look hopeless. Mary Magdalene reminds us that sometimes the most powerful act of faith is simply showing up when everything in us wants to retreat.

Maybe you’re walking through a difficult season — heartbreak, loss, uncertainty, or waiting. Maybe you’re wondering why things look dark, or why God seems silent.

Stay.

Stay near Jesus.
Stay in prayer.
Stay in the Word.
Stay in worship.
Stay rooted in faith.

Because the same Savior who spoke Mary’s name outside the empty tomb is the same Savior who speaks your name in moments of confusion and sorrow. Mary didn’t recognize Jesus until He said her name.
And when He did, everything in her world changed. He still calls our names today.

He calls us out of fear. He calls us out of despair. He calls us out of the tombs of our past and into the hope of resurrection life.

Mary Magdalene’s story shows us that God uses the unlikely, the broken, the once-bound, and the deeply devoted. And He reveals Himself to those who draw close — not because they have all the answers, but because they refuse to walk away.

So if you find yourself in a place of waiting or weeping, remember Mary.
Remember the power of staying near the One who is faithful.
And remember that resurrection is always closer than it seems.

Prayer

Lord, give me the devotion of Mary Magdalene — a heart that stays close to You, even in the darkest moments. Help me listen for Your voice, trust Your presence, and cling to the hope of Your resurrection power. Speak my name, Lord, and strengthen my faith as I walk with You. Amen.

The story of Ruth and Naomi is one of the most beautiful portraits of loyalty, faith, and sacrificial love in the entire Bible. It’s a story woven with heartbreak, loss, uncertainty, and yet woven just as tightly with hope, devotion, and divine purpose.

Ruth had every earthly reason to walk away. Widowed. Young. Far from home. No promise of a future.
And Naomi, broken by grief, urged her to leave and start a new life somewhere safe and familiar.

But Ruth did something astonishing. She looked at Naomi with fierce loyalty and said:

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

In a world where relationships can feel fragile and conditional, Ruth shows us a love that holds steady when life becomes uncertain… a love that is willing to walk through difficulty, not around it.

Ruth didn’t choose the easy path. She chose the faithful one. She clung to Naomi not out of obligation, but out of devotion. And she clung to God, trusting Him even when she couldn’t see the next step.

That kind of commitment is rare. It’s sacred. And it reminds us that sometimes the greatest acts of faith are not loud or dramatic — sometimes they look like simply staying when it would be easier to leave.

Ruth teaches us:

1. Love chooses presence over convenience.

She didn’t abandon Naomi in her sorrow. She became the steady presence Naomi needed in her darkest season. Sometimes the greatest gift we can give someone is our presence — our willingness to walk with them when life hurts.

2. Commitment is an act of faith.

Ruth had no guarantee of provision, security, or blessing. But she trusted the God Naomi served, even when she didn’t know how the story would unfold. Faith often looks like stepping into the unknown with a heart wide open.

3. God writes redemption into loyalty.

Because Ruth stayed, she walked right into the plan God had for her:

A new home. A new husband, Boaz. A child who would become part of the lineage of King David…
and ultimately the lineage of Jesus Christ. Her loyalty became part of God’s redemption story.

That’s the power of faithfulness. God can turn quiet acts of devotion into legacies that outlive us.

Maybe God is calling you to a Ruth-like commitment today:

• To love someone through a hard season
  
• To stay faithful to a calling that feels uncertain
  
• To trust Him when the road ahead isn’t clear
  
• To hold onto hope when everything in you wants to walk away
  

If so, remember Ruth.

Her story began in heartbreak but ended in blessing — because she chose loyalty, love, and faith in the God who restores.

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Prayer

Lord, give me the heart of Ruth — a heart that stays, that loves deeply, that walks in faith even when the road ahead is unclear. Teach me to be loyal, compassionate, and committed to the people You have placed in my life. And help me trust that You are writing redemption into every step of obedience. Amen.

(Elijah & Elisha)

There’s a moment in Scripture that takes my breath away every single time. It’s quiet, simple, and yet one of the boldest acts of faith in the Old Testament.

It’s when Elisha burned his plows.

We read in 1 Kings 19:19-21 that Elijah found Elisha working in the fields, plowing with twelve yoke of oxen. Elijah walked up, placed his mantle on Elisha’s shoulders — a symbol of calling — and without hesitation, Elisha made a life-altering decision.

He didn’t just say yes. He didn’t just follow. He burned the plows behind him.

Scripture says he slaughtered the oxen, used the wooden plows as firewood, cooked the meat, and gave it to the people. Then he left — no turning back.

Elisha didn’t keep a backup plan. He didn’t leave room for second-guessing. He didn’t say, “Let me try this for a while and see if it works.” He removed every path of retreat so he could walk fully into God’s purpose.

Sometimes, obeying God requires that kind of courage — the kind that lets go of what is familiar so we can embrace what is divine.

I think about how many times in my own life God has called me into something new — fostering children, writing books, ministering to others, beginning new seasons after deep loss. I didn’t always feel ready. I didn’t always feel equipped. But God wasn’t asking for perfection — He was asking for surrender.

And surrender often means leaving something behind.

Maybe for you it’s fear. Perhaps it’s comfort.  Perhaps it’s an old pattern, an unhealthy relationship, or a false sense of identity. Perhaps it’s the life you planned, so you can step into the life God is offering.

Elisha knew that to step into destiny, he had to release what tied him to the past. He burned what represented the old season so he could fully embrace the new one.

And that’s the beauty of this story:

When God calls you forward, He never intends for you to live halfway between who you were and who He is making you.

Elisha’s act of burning the plows wasn’t just dramatic — it was prophetic.  It declared:  “I am available. I am committed. I trust God more than I trust what is familiar. I am stepping into something greater.”

And oh, how God honored that obedience. Elisha performed twice as many miracles as Elijah.  He became one of the most powerful prophets in the Old Testament. And it all began with a single step of total surrender.

If God is calling you into a new season —  to forgive, to heal, to serve, to lead, to open your home, to let go, to begin again — don’t be afraid to burn the plows.

Don’t cling to what God is asking you to release. Don’t keep safety nets where God is calling you to walk by faith. Don’t stay in the old season when God has an anointing waiting in the new one.

God honors bold obedience. He blesses surrendered hearts. And He always meets us on the other side of “yes.”

Prayer

Lord, give me the courage of Elisha — the courage to let go of what I don’t need in the next season and to fully trust Your calling. Help me release the past, remove my backup plans, and step boldly into the future You have prepared. I want to follow You without hesitation. Amen.

There are seasons in life when everything feels like it’s fallen apart — when dreams crumble, relationships break, life doesn’t go the way you hoped, and you look around and see more ashes than beauty. In those moments, it can feel impossible to imagine anything good coming out of the mess.

But God is not intimidated by ashes. He is the One who specializes in restoration.  He is the God who brings beauty from what we thought was ruined forever.

Scripture promises this:  “He will give a crown of beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, and a garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.” — Isaiah 61:3

This isn’t poetic language — it’s who God is. He rebuilds what was destroyed. He restores what was broken. He redeems what seemed lost.

If you’ve ever walked through a heartbreak, a setback, or a season where everything felt heavy, you know the ache of wondering, “God, can anything good come from this?”

And yet, over and over again, He shows us that our ashes are not the end of the story. Ashes represent what once was. Beauty represents what God can still do.

I’ve lived through seasons where life didn’t look anything like what I prayed for. Times when I felt like I was standing in the ruins of my own expectations — after a divorce, after loss, after disappointment. In those moments, I couldn’t see how God could possibly make something beautiful out of the pieces.

But He did. In His timing. In His wisdom. In His kindness.

God takes the things that were meant to destroy us and uses them to strengthen us. He takes the pain that broke us and turns it into compassion for others. He takes the chapters we thought were over and writes new ones with better endings.

Beauty from ashes doesn’t always happen overnight. Sometimes it takes time — time for healing, time for growth, time for God to shift our perspective. But even when we don’t see it yet, He is working beneath the surface.

Think of Job, whose ashes turned into restoration. Think of Joseph, whose pit became a platform. Think of Ruth, whose grief led her straight into redemption. Think of your own life — the ashes God has already turned into something beautiful.

God doesn’t waste pain. He shapes it. He doesn’t discard broken things. He restores them. He doesn’t leave us in ashes. He lifts us out.

If you’re in a season where all you can see is what fell apart, hold onto hope. Beauty is coming. Redemption is on the horizon. God is already doing a new thing, even if you can’t see it yet. He has a way of surprising us in the most tender and unexpected ways.

Give Him the ashes — the disappointments, the grief, the loss, the hurts — and trust that He will grow something beautiful where it looks impossible.

Because that is who He is. He is the God of transformation. The God of redemption.The God of beauty from ashes.

Prayer

Lord, I bring You the ashes of my life — the broken places, the hurts, the disappointments. Thank You for being the God who restores and redeems. Give me eyes to see the beauty You are creating, even when the process feels slow. I trust You with the rebuilding. Amen.