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Julie's Heartening Anecdotes, Tucson, AZ (2026)

08/17/2026

The Garden After Gethsemane
Written by Julie Dionne Liddle

(Written in continuation of The Hem of His Garment)

There was a night she knelt in sorrow,
beneath the weight of olive trees,
where every prayer felt crushed and costly,
where anguish brought her to her knees.

She thought of Christ in dark Gethsemane,
His sweat like blood upon the ground,
and found within His sacred suffering
a Savior who knew every wound.

He did not scold her for her trembling.
He did not shame her honest cry.
He knew the cup, the grief, the waiting,
the ache of asking Heaven why.

So she whispered through the shadows,
“Father, let this cup pass by;
yet not my will, but Yours be done,
if Your glory lives through my life.”

The surrender did not come easy.
It was not dressed in golden light.
It came through tears and open hands
in the middle of the night.

But angels still attend the weary.
Heaven still draws near to pain.
And though the cross may stand before us,
resurrection speaks again.

For Friday never gets the ending.
The stone cannot command the grave.
The same strong hand that held the nails
is strong enough to heal and save.

So when the morning broke around her,
she saw the garden differently;
not as the place where hope was buried,
but where God planted victory.

The thorns that once had crowned her sorrow
now bowed beneath redeeming dew;
and where she thought her dreams had ended,
the Lord began to make them new.

She rose, not free from every battle,
but anchored in a deeper truth:
the scars she carried were not wasted;
they testified that God comes through.

Her wilderness had taught her worship.
Her valley taught her how to pray.
Her tears became a holy river
that watered someone else’s way.

And now she walks with gentle courage,
a lamp of mercy in her hand,
to comfort those still in the desert
who wonder if God understands.

She tells them, “Hold on through the darkness.
The Lord is near the broken reed.
He will not crush your fragile spirit;
He knows your name, your hurt, your need.

There is a garden after weeping.
There is a dawn beyond the stone.
There is a Christ who walks beside you.
You have never been alone.”

And where her wilderness once wounded,
where pain once carved its hollow den,
the Lord brought forth a field of flowers—
and taught her soul to bloom again.

08/17/2026

When the Wilderness Starts to Bloom
Written by Julie Dionne Liddle

She wakes beneath a weight unseen,
a heaviness no hands can lift,
with aching bones and weary eyes,
and prayers that tremble, torn and stiff.

She’s tired of saying, “I’m okay,”
when pain has carved into her frame;
tired of fighting through the day
while grief keeps whispering her name.

Her body hurts, her spirit bends,
her mind grows quiet from the strain;
and hope, once bright as morning light,
now flickers softly in the rain.

She dreams of what “normal” used to mean—
a simple breath, a peaceful night,
a day not ruled by hidden wounds,
a soul not bracing for the fight.

And sometimes faith becomes a sigh,
a longing for that distant shore,
where tears are wiped from tired eyes
and pain can reach her nevermore.

But then, above the wilderness,
a voice breaks through the shadowed sky:
“My daughter, lift your weary head—
your redemption draweth nigh.

I have not missed a single tear.
I know the pain you try to hide.
I know the nights you feel alone,
and I have never left your side.

I understand the ache you carry,
the questions buried in your chest;
I know your body longs for healing,
and your soul is desperate for rest.

But child, your story is not over.
This valley is not where you’ll stay.
The desert you have walked through weeping
is closer now to giving way.

You still have purpose in your breathing.
You still have fire beneath the scars.
I still have plans beyond your seeing,
plans that outshine the darkest stars.

So do not lay your armor down.
Do not surrender in the night.
Now is not the time to give up—
now is the time to stand and fight.

Dig in, My daughter. Hold on tighter.
Let faith arise where fear has cried.
This wilderness is nearly ending;
I am still working on your side.

And when your strength feels almost gone,
remember this: I still remain.
Lift up your eyes. The dawn is breaking.
Your wilderness shall bloom again.”

08/17/2026

The Hem of His Garment
Written by Julie Dionne Liddle
(Written in continuation of The Oil That Did Not Run Dry)

She heard the crowd around Him pressing,
voices rising like the sea;
yet in her heart one hope kept breathing:
“If I touch Him, I’ll be free.”

For years she carried hidden bleeding,
the kind no stranger’s eyes could see;
a private sorrow, long and lonely,
a wound beneath her dignity.

She knew the weight of being weary,
the shame of needing one more prayer,
the ache of reaching toward a healing
while wondering if God still cared.

But Christ was walking through her valley.
The Healer passed along her road.
And something stronger than her sorrow
rose beneath her heavy load.

So through the crowd of fear and doubting,
through every lie that blocked the way,
she stretched one trembling hand toward Jesus
and touched the fringe of holy grace.

At once, not because she was worthy,
not because her faith was grand,
but because His mercy overflowed,
virtue moved from Christ’s own hand.

The Savior stopped among the people.
He turned with tenderness and might.
He would not let her hide in silence
after bringing her to light.

“Daughter,” He said, and heaven listened,
“your faith has made you whole.
Go in peace, released from suffering;
let My rest restore your soul.”

Daughter—not burden, not forgotten,
not the woman pain had named;
Daughter—not the sum of losses,
not the years of grief and shame.

And in that word she found a kingdom,
a Father’s love, a holy claim;
the voice that formed the stars above her
called her gently by her name.

She wept, but not from hopeless anguish.
She bowed, but not beneath defeat.
She had touched the robe of mercy,
and mercy lifted her to her feet.

Now when pain speaks like an accuser,
when darkness tries to make her hide,
she remembers Christ has seen her
and called her daughter in His sight.

She may still walk through fragile mornings.
She may still need His daily grace.
But she has felt the hem of healing
and looked upon the Savior’s face.

And somewhere deep within her spirit,
where despair once held its throne,
a song begins, both soft and certain:
“I am seen. I am loved. I am known.”

08/17/2026

The Oil That Did Not Run Dry
Written by Julie Dionne Liddle

(Written in continuation of The Manna in the Morning)

There came a day her strength was thinner
than the widow’s final bread;
her jar held only drops of courage,
her heart felt nearly spent and dead.

She looked upon the life before her,
the needs that called, the bills, the pain;
and wondered how an empty vessel
could ever pour out love again.

But then the Word rose up within her,
like Elijah at the door:
“Bring Me what you have, My daughter.
I can multiply the poor.

Do not despise the little oil.
Do not mourn the little flour.
What looks too small within your keeping
can become My holy power.”

So trembling, she brought God her weakness,
her questions, and her broken song;
the places she had called unusable,
the parts of her that hurt too long.

She laid them down upon the altar,
not polished, pretty, bright, or whole;
just fragments from a faithful woman
who still said yes with all her soul.

And heaven did not mock her offering.
The Father did not turn away.
He breathed upon her little portion
and gave her courage for the day.

The oil kept flowing in the stillness.
The flour remained beneath His hand.
Not always abundance she could measure,
but enough to help her stand.

Enough to answer with compassion.
Enough to pray when words were few.
Enough to see another sunrise.
Enough to believe God’s Word was true.

And as she poured from what seemed empty,
a sacred wonder filled the room:
the broken places became vessels,
and sorrow gave way to perfume.

For suffering had not made her useless.
Affliction had not stole her call.
The Potter held each cracked place gently
and poured His glory through them all.

She saw that healing sometimes enters
not as lightning in the night,
but as oil that keeps on flowing
when the jar has nothing in sight.

Then she lifted up her empty hands,
no longer ashamed of need,
and found the God of endless mercy
had planted faith like mustard seed.

And though she still had days of aching,
and nights when tears would blur her eyes,
she knew the Lord who kept the widow
would keep her lamp alive.

08/17/2026

The Manna in the Morning
Written by Julie Dionne Liddle

(Written in continuation of When the Wilderness Starts to Bloom)

She wakes before the dawn has stretched
its gold across the wounded sky,
still feeling echoes in her bones,
still asking God the reason why.

The night had been a battlefield,
her pillow damp with silent pleas;
yet somewhere in the dark she heard
a whisper moving through the trees.

“My grace is sufficient, child.
My strength is perfected in pain.
You may not understand the storm,
but I still govern wind and rain.”

She rises slowly from her bed,
not healed at once, but not alone;
the floor beneath her weary feet
feels less like dust and more like stone.

For in the place she thought was barren,
where hunger hollowed out her frame,
the Lord laid manna in the morning
and called her softly by her name.

Not more than what the day required,
not stores for all the weeks ahead,
but mercy measured with the sunrise,
and daily grace, her daily bread.

She wanted answers wrapped in thunder,
a parted sea, a flaming sign;
but God came gently in the stillness:
“Beloved daughter, you are Mine.

I led My people through the desert,
not to destroy, but to refine.
The wilderness was not rejection—
it was where I made them Mine.

So gather what I give this morning.
Do not fear tomorrow’s need.
The hand that feeds the sparrow’s hunger
will surely be the hand that feeds.”

And though her body still remembers
the ache, the grief, the long delay,
her soul begins to learn the rhythm
of trusting God for just today.

She does not dance yet on the mountain.
She does not run across the plain.
But something holy starts to blossom
beneath the soil softened by pain.

A prayer no longer torn and trembling
begins to rise within her chest:
“Lord, if You walk beside me here,
then even wilderness is blessed.”

And heaven bends close in the quiet,
as mercy falls like morning dew;
the God who fed her in the desert
is making all things new.

08/13/2026

Mercy in the Storm
Written by: Julie Dionne Liddle

When the body aches and the nights feel long,
When faithful prayers seem swallowed by the dark,
You are still near, O Lord—still strong,
Still holding fast the trembling heart.

I have walked through fire without a flame,
Through days that bent beneath their load;
I cried Your name and bore my shame,
While heaviness pressed along the road.

Yet Your mercy met me in the ache,
Not as a thunder, but as dawn;
Your grace remained for suffering’s sake,
And gently helped me carry on.

Think of Hannah, poured out in grief,
Whose tears became a holy plea;
Before the Lord she found relief,
For pain can open the soul to Thee.

Think of Ruth, with roads torn bare,
A widow in a stranger’s land;
She stepped by faith through loss and fear,
And found Your kindness near at hand.

Think of Esther, summoned to stand
When danger called her name by fire;
She faced the night with trembling hands,
And chose obedience over desire.

Think of Mary, with humble yes,
Who bore the holy weight of grace;
Through wonder, sorrow, emptiness,
She kept her gaze upon Your face.

Think of the woman at the well,
Whose thirst had wandered far and wide;
You met her where her sorrows fell
And called her shame to step aside.

So when my soul is worn and thin,
When pain has made my spirit small,
Let Your deep mercy gather me in—
My heart’s desire, my Lord, my all.

I will forever love You through the storm,
My trust is in You when I cannot see;
To find, in every broken form,
A path that leads me closer to Thee.

Not because the way is light,
Not because the burden fades,
But because Your presence is my night,
And Your compassion never breaks.

Not because the path is easy,
Not because the road is clear,
But because You walk beside me
I will move ahead in cheer.

When the night is long and weary,
Still Your love will light the way;
By Your grace I will rise tomorrow,
Faithful, strong, and bright as day.

06/29/2026

United in Hope: A Battle for Freedom's Light
Written by Julie Dionne Liddle

In the land of the brave, where the eagle takes flight,
Two hundred fifty years since we first claimed the light.
A beacon of hope, a tapestry woven fine,
Yet shadows encroach where once we did shine.

Evil whispers softly in halls cloaked in spite,
With gilded temptations that dim the true light.
Greed weaves its web, spreads its treacherous snare,
Deals struck with the darkness that suffocates the air.

Once cherished ideals now twisted and worn,
The tenets of goodness, in silence, are torn.
Colors of righteousness fade into the night,
As darkness rejoices, obscuring our sight.

But hear us, O believers, a clarion call!
With faith as our armor, we will not fall.
Like warriors united, in fervent prayer rise,
For the soul of our nation, our freedom we prize.

We will not be silenced as truth starts to wane,
Nor let wisdom falter, nor justice be slain.
Our children are treasures; we’ll guard their pure hearts,
With love as our weapon, where courage imparts.

O cancer of discord, that tears us apart,
You sow seeds of chaos where love should impart.
No longer will we falter, no longer shall we wait,
It’s time for the righteous to seize their own fate.

For within every heart that beats with brave fire,
God’s Army rises, ignited by desire.
With grace as our banner, we shall boldly proclaim:
United in truth, we’ll carry His name.

Let freedom resound, let His glory take flight,
One nation, undaunted, bound in His light.
Together we march, hand in hand, heart in stride,
For the hope and the freedom our forebears supplied.

Let the sirens of liberty echo through air,
As we summon up justice and stand firm in prayer.
In faith, we find strength; with courage, we stand,
In this land we call home, let us honor His plan.

05/11/2026

Choosing Forgiveness When Someone Deceives You
Written by Julie Dionne Liddle

In the shadows, you wore a sweet disguise.
You slithered into my life while plotting your guise.
Cloaked as a soul sister, you played a game
Whispers of trust veiled the truth of your aim.

With plastic smiles, you played your role.
But the depths of my heart, you could never control.
The truth will endure and conquer the lies.
My spirit will rise with God on my side

Veiled manipulations concealed by the night.
But truth illuminated your deception so bright
Though I bear the scars of the hurt you inflicted,
God renews my faith; His plans will not be restricted

As dawn breaks, the shadows begin to fade.
No longer entranced by the games that you played,
Each tear that I've shed is a testament to strength.
To the strength I have found as I learn to move on.

With every step forward, I reclaim my light.
The chains of your treachery wane out of sight.
With forgiveness in my heart, I set myself free.
Filled with peace, my spirit soars like a breeze.

God’s promises are true, in His grace I remain
To His will I yield, finding purpose through pain.
What Satan intended for evil, God transforms for good.
With faith as my shield, I take a stand as I should

Each chapter unfolds with His grace lighting the way.
Faith, hope, and love shine bright as the day
Unbroken, I flourish, my faith burning bright.
For God writes my story, and in Him, I delight.

04/20/2026

Echoes of the Heart: Finding Your Tribe in Stillness
Written by: Julie Dionne Liddle

Pause for a moment; let stillness wrap around you like a gentle embrace. Watch as shadows of silence sway—who will dare to breach this serene curtain? Those who step into the quiet are your true allies, the heartbeat of your journey. They are your steadfast tribe; they are the wind in your sails on brilliant sunny days and your anchors in the stormy seas of life.

Yet, if time drifts by as whispers lost in the breeze, heed that sign. Those who overlook your glow may not yet recognize the brilliance of your soul or hear the rhythm of your steps. Instead, treasure those who draw near, who check the pulse of your spirit in moments of stillness. These are your ride-or-die souls, illuminating your worth with their presence and reminding you that you truly matter.

As you nurture the relationships that bring life to your world, remember the presence of others who appear only when needed. Let them be as the chaff that the winds easily scatter, drifting away from the essence of your path. While you may hold compassion for their journey and wish them well from afar, it is vital to release those ties that weigh you down.

Surround yourself with brave hearts—those who are there not just in moments of joy but also during the shadowy times. For true connection thrives in reciprocal care. Check in on your tribe as they check in on you; in this dance of giving and receiving, the essence of friendship blossoms. Cherish those who hold you close; they are the artists painting your life’s canvas with strokes of vibrant beauty. In letting go of the fleeting, you make space for the lasting bonds that nurture your soul.

04/11/2026

Standing Firm in the Face of Adversity
Written by: Julie Dionne Liddle

Life is often a tapestry of challenges and tribulations, where the winds of adversity threaten to shake our very foundations. Yet, as believers, we are called to stand firm on God's Holy Word, which serves as our rock and refuge amidst the storms. In Ephesians 6:12, we are reminded that “we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness.” Our battles are spiritual in nature, and they require weapons far beyond the physical.

In times of difficulty, we are equipped with powerful tools of prayer and praise. Prayer is our lifeline to God—the means through which we communicate, seek guidance, and draw strength. Philippians 4:6-7 instructs us to “not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” When we bring our struggles before the Lord, we are met with His peace that calms the storms within us.

In addition to prayer, praise holds an equally essential place in our spiritual arsenal. Praising God shifts our focus from our problems to His greatness and majesty. Psalm 150:6 calls us to let “everything that has breath praise the Lord!” Praise breaks chains, lifts burdens, and creates an atmosphere of victory where the enemy cannot dwell. It reminds us of who God is—a loving and powerful Creator, capable of overcoming any darkness we face.

Consider the story of Paul and Silas, who, while imprisoned, chose to pray and sing hymns to God (Acts 16:25-26). Their steadfastness in the face of adversity led to a miraculous earthquake that freed them from their chains. This account illustrates the power of prayer and praise—not just to change our circumstances, but to change our hearts and perspectives.

As we navigate life’s challenges, let us remember that standing firm on God’s Holy Word equips us to face the spiritual battles that lie ahead. Isaiah 54:17 reassures us that “no weapon that is fashioned against you shall succeed.” With God’s Word as our shield and prayer and praise as our weapons, we can confront adversity with courage, knowing that we are more than q, let us cling to His promises, lift our voices in gratitude, and approach our struggles with faith and confidence. Together, we can encourage one another to remain steadfast in the face of adversity, knowing that we walk not alone, but with the Creator of the universe by our side. May His strength be our foundation and His love be our motivation as we stand firm in faith.

Julie's Heartening Anecdotes

08/17/2026

08/17/2026

08/17/2026

08/17/2026

08/17/2026

08/13/2026

06/29/2026

05/11/2026

04/20/2026

04/11/2026

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