by Katy Kauffman


A plane ticket is a promise. It’s the promise of a destination. The promise of adventure. For me, my plane ticket to Florida this month is the promise of meeting writers at the Florida Christian Writers Conference and having one of the best adventures of the year.


When I arrive at my flight’s gate, I count on my boarding pass to work and to allow me to board the plane. I count on the flight attendants to bring me Sprite to soothe my motion-sickness-prone tummy, and (with a few prayers) I depend on the pilots to land the plane safely in Orlando.


A promise is something we hold on to, a guarantee. As humans, we make promises and we do our best to keep them. But we can’t guarantee every promise, because we have weaknesses and life happens. Emergencies surprise us. Our own strength fails.

  By Katy

by Katy Kauffman


Pain. That’s what I associate with winter, even in North Georgia. If I’m not careful, the cold can bring pain to my hands and head, and it can cause sinus infections that last for weeks. The cold temperatures translate into four or five layers of clothing; a colorful array of gloves, scarves, and hats; regular doses of hot chocolate; and watching movies underneath my snuggie (a soft, blue blanket with sleeves).


I’m a sunshine girl, so I also have to guard my attitude from turning as gray as the clouds above. Yesterday the fresh snowfall lit up my study with a radiant white light. It’s nice when God gives us some sunshine in the midst of a cold winter.


The soul has its winters too. We go through periods of isolation, coldness, or seclusion. Life’s trials can weather us, causing our joy to fade or our strength to diminish. But He who releases heaven’s storehouses of snow also shares with His children treasures of joy, peace, and grace. Do you need a little more warmth this winter?

  By Katy

Today a gentle snow falls. Large clusters of flakes tumble earthward, holding hands and dancing to a muted tune only they can hear. It must be warmer today. I put on my coat and head down the snow-cloaked road.


It’s so quiet my crunchy footsteps resound irreverently across the wintry expanse. When I reach the hilltop, I stop. A profound stillness envelops me. I strain to hear something … anything. There’s nothing—not the rustle of crisp, brown oak leaves, not the cheerful call of the chickadees, not a whisper from the wind. My whole world pays silent homage to God.

  By Katy

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Winning the Victory: A Blog by Katy Kauffman

Award-Winning Author, Editor, Bible Teacher

As co-founder of Lighthouse Bible Studies, Katy is a Bible study author and editor of Refresh Bible Study Magazine. Follow Katy's blog to receive posts sharing practical strategies for winning life's spiritual battles. 

 

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