Timarie Friesen
Writing, Reading, Following Jesus


 

El camino que la llevó desde su natal Ciudad de México hasta París está forjado de dolor, gracia y sorpresas.

Le voyage qui l'a menée de Mexico, sa ville natale, à Paris est semé de chagrin, de grâce et de surprises.

The journey from her native Mexico City to Paris is paved with grief, grace, and surprise. Karla holds a handmade ceramic teacup crafted by her husband, David. Previously an architect, David, now works as an artist. Karla is a musician and a former teahouse owner. After a series of losses, the couple left Mexico City. They visited Asia to explore the tea industry and considered opening a tea house there. Instead, tea and providence led them to Paris.

A shore of rocks outlines the rugged sea, and you can’t imagine walking barefoot or enjoying the water. It’s not that I lamented over this, rather, I’m lamenting now.

Looking through the window, past the rain-smudged glass, past the airport vehicles, and at the twinkling skyline of Montevideo, there was the city we’d romanticized over the past year. Mark and I had a fascination with Uruguay for two reasons. One, the coastal location, and two, the mystery of a culture we’d not known existed until a ReachGlobal missionary mentioned the place.

I asked my uncle if I could share this short piece. He specified that the Bible he first opened at age forty-seven was a gift from a hospital chaplain. My uncle kept the Bible, yet kept the Bible closed, until one day God began to stir in him a new beginning.

Readers—and viewers—will experience an unforgettable picture of the global church, growing in their affection for God and others.

I saw my neighbor while visiting a bookstore. He mentioned a particular novel he likes that portrays some Christians negatively. “I’m a...

I descended, lowering into a tidepool, clutching the side of a rock. The gentle waves held power. Was I a fool to trust the sea’s mercy?

What do you see when a slow, fifteen minutes are yours to keep?

Deep in a shadowy forest, the hobbit climbs a tree to discern his location.

She was late getting to the train station, too late for a suitable seat.

And yet, if it were precisely the end, then hope would be practically impossible.

Whether you belong to a local church or not, will you get a copy of my first book ever published?

. . . among the bent and unlikely is where most stories unfold.

. . . stories illuminate the internal workings of the hidden heart, for I was moved to think, Yeah, I feel this way too.

so I’ve let the charm bracelet sit out a week as I wrote and reflected again—as my mom’s seventieth birthday passed and she’s not here

With seeds from the crops we gathered last year, we’ll mend the chaos the storms released here.

Imagine the apprehension you might feel at the Son of God gazing in your direction, making eye contact, perceiving your very thoughts.

Stories give us room to make sense of things lost or lovely.