I've heard a lot about the importance of sitting in silence and solitude.  I've never been a fan of either one.    Silence makes me feel awkward so I try to fill it by rattling on about something random.  Most times it would've been better if I kept my mouth shut. 


Solitude is another story.  I would never voluntarily choose to be alone.   I used to think solitude was a result of rejection and I would do everything in my power to avoid it.   Lately, I've been looking at both in a different light.


I've been on a search for God's love for a long time.  I had heard of it but it always seemed just beyond my grasp.   Yesterday a friend challenged me.   He asked me what my time with God looked like.   I answered him honestly.   God was part of a routine.  I get up and don't know what to do with myself so I sit and have my “quiet time” with the Lord for lack of anything else.  A default.  He then told me about his time of silence and solitude.  It was a beautiful thing full of raw emotion and longing.  He came away feeling loved and strengthened.   As he spoke, I felt something stir within me.   I wanted what he had.  I wanted to meet with God and to know His love.   God was waiting and He wanted me to come to Him and I did.


It's hard to explain but all I know is that I woke up with anticipation and expectation.  I went to my chair and started thinking of times where God met me.   He's carried me through many storms, held my hand as I walked through the unknown and held me as I cried many tears.   He's healed my heart when it's been broken and guided me when I had no idea what to do.   I remembered how He loved my kids and brought them through trauma and tragedy when they didn't know He was there.  He's healed me physically and emotionally and never turned His back on me even when I turned my back on Him.   


As I sat there I got a sense of His mercy, love and faithfulness.  Words came to my mind that were so clear that I had to write them down.


In closing, I'd like to share them and encourage you that if any of it resonates, take some time and embrace the silence and solitude.  God will meet you there.   



"Your Love


Your love is peace.

Your love is power.

Your love is mercy.

Your love is faithfulness.

Your love is strength.


You came as a baby.

You surrendered Your power and authority for me.

You suffered for me.


You didn't have to, but You did.


How can I ever thank You?


You didn't do it for praise. 


You did it for love.”

Broken Crayons Still Color

By Eileen Glotfelty • April 6, 2025
When I was a child, I loved the box of crayons that had 64 colors. I gravitated toward the metallic ones because they were so unique. Two years ago, I took a trip with my grandchildren to the Crayola Crayon Factory. I don't know who was more excited. After going through the various exhibits, we ended up in the gift shop where we could take a container and fill it with every crayon color imaginable. I felt like a kid again as I chose each one. I told myself I was buying them for my grandchildren but I knew who they were for. I don't have to tell you I chose every metallic color they had. Back at home, I was wary of letting the grandkids use them for fear they would break them and once they were broken, I didn't want to use them. Ridiculous I know. Next month, I'll be 70 years old. As this milestone comes closer, so does a lot of self-awareness and introspection. I used to think that by this age, I'd have shifted into the “golden years” and everything would be ok. My kids would be grown and settled. I would be retired and spending time teaching my grandchildren how to bake cookies and volunteering somewhere doing community service. I also thought I'd be growing old with the love of my life and we would finally get to travel to all the places we had always wanted to see. Yes, my kids are grown and I do travel but not the way I thought. My body has decided to start protesting its age so I am limited in what I can do and I find myself alone most of the time. I've started to wonder if this is all there is? Why am I still here? Maybe you've felt the same way. I don't know exactly what the reason is other than I have the blessing and wisdom of living this long. I've had trials and challenges that I've walked through and come out the other side. My heart's desire is to help others who are discouraged and feel hopeless. I've asked myself many times how I could help someone else when I have such a long way to go myself and then I heard the words, “broken crayons still color.” Those words changed my perspective and gave me purpose. They showed me that God can take me in my broken, imperfect state and use me for good. He doesn't see the broken crayon, He sees the beautiful colors and He sees my heart. He sees the whole picture. So as long as I have breath, there's a reason. He's not finished with me yet.

And The Stockings Were Hung

By Eileen Glotfelty • December 21, 2024
“And the stockings were hung on the chimney with care.” Most of us are familiar with that phrase. In my family, Christmas stockings have always been one of the best gifts of the day. I made my first Christmas stocking after I was married. I didn't know what I was doing but I managed to make one for my husband that showed him skiing down a mountain as that was something he loved to do. From there most of them were made from kits that involved a lot of felt and sequins to create the scene. I would work on them when I was expecting my next child as I sat outside and watched the older ones play. When it came down to my youngest, she didn't get hers until she was 5 as I had my hands full with the four of them. I'm surprised I actually finished it. Each of those stockings tell a story and were chosen with much love. Some were so well loved that I had to make them a second time. I never minded. I was very protective of them and made sure they were stored carefully each year. As my family expanded over the years through marriages and births, I carried on the tradition and made stockings for each one. Every year at Christmas, I would love going shopping to find special surprises to fill them. In my old house they would hang from the mantel until they were filled and then placed under the tree. The best part of all was seeing everyone's faces as they pulled out each item. Those were special times. Now things have changed and instead of the stockings being filled and placed under my tree, they get packed in my suitcase and travel many miles. I've decided this will be the last year and when I return home from seeing my family, I will leave the stockings with them. As I made the decision, I was surprised at the emotions that rose up in me. I realized that I was afraid to let go of them because it would be the end of something I wasn't ready to give up. I found that I was holding onto something that I needed to release. It's not about the stockings, they're just a physical reminder of what used to be. There's a time to hold on and a time to let go. The Book of Ecclesiastes says it so beautifully: “To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven: A time to be born, And a time to die; A time to plant, And a time to pluck what is planted; A time to kill, And a time to heal; A time to break down, And a time to build up; A time to weep, And a time to laugh; A time to mourn, And a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, And a time to gather stones; A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing; A time to gain, And a time to lose; A time to keep, And a time to throw away; A time to tear, And a time to sew; A time to keep silence, And a time to speak; A time to love, And a time to hate; A time of war, And a time of peace.” Seasons change and when they do, it's an opportunity for me to change and become the best I can be and with God's grace, I can do it with peace and joy. It just occurred to me that I've never made a stocking for myself…maybe now’s the time.

Davie

By Eileen Glotfelty • December 9, 2024
Life is a constant series of events. Some good, some not. The good ones we need to hold on to. They will give us hope. I'm sure you've heard the phrase, “that's the last straw.” You could also interpret it as, “I can't take any more.” These phrases usually come to mind when you've going through a hard season and it's been one thing after another. I've been there. You've been there and now my daughter's there. It's one thing when it's happening to us but another thing when it's happening to someone we love. To watch them suffer is harder than anything else. Over the past six years, my child has experienced one life changing event after another. She's been knocked down time after time and I've watched her struggle to get back up. There have been times when she wanted to stay down and she would tell me, “I'm done.” A couple weeks ago, she drove up to South Carolina to visit her sister. She went to lend a hand with some household projects. One night she received a phone call that broke her heart. Her house is currently up for sale as she is relocating to Wyoming. A realtor had brought a family to see the house and the agent noticed one of the cats lying on the bed. He wasn't moving. My daughter called her friend to go over to the house where she confirmed that the cat had passed away. His name was Davie. If you know my Laura, you'll know she is an animal lover and takes excellent care of her pets. Davie was special to her. He was only 8 or 9 years old and must've had an undetected heart condition so his death was unexpected. Davie was more than a pet to her. He comforted her and stayed by her side during the hard times. She was devastated. The first thing she did was blame herself although there was nothing she could have done. How often have we done the same thing? We want so badly to make sense of a tragedy that often we turn it inward and begin beating ourselves up until we're worn out with guilt and shame. If only I did this or said this, maybe it wouldn't have happened; when in reality, there was nothing we could've done. Life just happened. All we can do is live each day the best we can. We can't control what the day will bring but, as I've said before, we have a choice how we respond. In Laura's case, she needed to grieve but not with shame or guilt, just raw pure emotions of sorrow. That's when the healing starts.