February, 2018

It’s a father’s love, not more laws, that will heal our land

February 20, 2018 Rhonda Schrock Rhonda's Posts

There’s a message that’s burning in my heart today. For weeks and months now, it’s been growing inside me. Like a flaming-hot coal, its warmth has permeated my entire being, and today I know that I must share it. It’s brought me healing, and life. As I write you this morning from The Three, my […]

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When God sends a Valentine

February 15, 2018 Rhonda Schrock Rhonda's Posts

It’s Valentine’s Day. I’ve just dropped off 27 hand-rolled, heart-shaped cookies (made with real butter ’cause we don’t mess around), frosted and topped with sprinkles. Behind me, a batch-of-hot-worms, roiling, lively fifth-grade class is celebrating the occasion. Rows of molars are attacking those cookies, and I’m walking down the hall when He speaks. “There goes My […]

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How to love your husband (hint–accept the skin you’re in and just believe him)

February 13, 2018 Rhonda Schrock Rhonda's Posts

I feel prompted to teach on a topic today that has been all kinds of difficult for me. I grew up, see, in a culture where certain things were not talked about. Were shrouded in secrecy and, yes, shame. Then I married a man who not only didn’t beat around the bush, but he’d push […]

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When the grass is greener on Facebook (or anywhere else)

February 5, 2018 Rhonda Schrock Rhonda's Posts

Today outside my window, snow blankets *The Three. From my cozy, old farmhouse, I’m sharing again this quick, cautionary word. Someone, I know, is needin’ this message. It applies to every area of life, not just marriage. Since I crave authenticity and I despise fake perfection, I can freely tell you that I have fallen […]

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America’s small, caffeinated mom explains football

February 2, 2018 Rhonda Schrock Rhonda's Posts

I didn’t understand it then. I don’t understand it now, but if it means we can get together and eat pizza and nachos, then hey. I’m your girl. Now we know. After days of speculation, the results are in. The New Orleans Saints decisively munched the Colts’ lunch and handed back their little brown bag, empty. […]

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