The slow cadence of small, white-capped waves slides against the sand, rolls over beach wood, and washed-up stones. Between horizon and water, there isn’t much difference between the blues. Wisps of clouds hang in the azure sky, mirroring the sparkle of the lake with a shimmer of its own. My legs stretch, weight shifting on a driftwood log lodged with sand as I take my time exhaling a long-kept breath

Sisters, abiding is not passive. It is a powerful posture of trust. It’s a lifestyle of staying near, being nourished by God, and allowing His life to flow through ours.