A fundamentalist turned freedom chaser with an obnoxiously stubborn faith.


The chair in Tessa’s living room.

I looked curiously at the big tan armchair sitting in the corner of a living room far from North Carolina or Salinas or Fargo. A living room right above my own actually, overlooking my new “hometown.”

It was familiar and it took only moments for my memory to jog: this is the same chair Beth has had since I’ve known her. The chair I sobbed in while Gabe was gone and cuddled Ayden in during humid southern summers with the AC on. It’s the chair I joined my husband in for rounds of the hat game and spent holidays lounging in after festivities died down. It’s the chair I saw packed away in moving trucks and the chair I sat in with Raychel the size of a poppy seed tucked in my womb.

The chair in Beth’s living room in Fargo.

God provided the Balls years ago when we needed family and He has not ceased to provide community everywhere we have been, building on the things He’s taught us through every season. How appropriate then for this chair to be in the home of a brother and sister He has recently introduced to us. The Wellings and other beautiful believers we have come to know are family now, too. God’s sincere and constant love is sewn through these relationships. Reminders (like this chair) are visible stitches. He provides, He loves, He answers prayer consistently and in a way that brings Him glory and us joy.

It’s a comfortable armchair, but the warmth I feel when sitting in it comes from the heart of my generous Father rather than the stuffing.

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