Four years ago, when I printed the first batch of Dwell Journals, I ordered 600. It seemed like an impossibly high number, but I believed that if I could encourage just a handful of women to dwell daily on the Word of God, it would be worth it. It took me three years to sell all of those journals, but by the grace of God, I did it, and this spring, I ordered 500 more. Four different covers this time, with a fresh new layout on the inside designed to make it even easier for women to focus their hearts and minds on Scripture. And y'all, I'm beginning to think that I don't have enough to make it through the holiday season. You're looking at what's left of my inventory after I packed for Handworks. Those two baskets on the bottom left hold my remaining stock of adult Dwell Journals. With the exception of a few more pink journals that I haven't packaged yet, this is it. I know that for some brands, 500 prayer journals would be nothing, but for me, it's a really big deal. I'm overwhelmed and so very grateful for your support this year. Thank you! I'm also in awe of all that God has done. He's so, so good. Not just because he's growing this little business, but because he's using it to draw people closer to him, and I get to be a part of it. I'm working on new journals for 2020. They'll release to our retail stores in January and in the online shop a couple of weeks after that, but if you've been eyeing one of this year's covers, you better hop to it and get it before it's gone. After Handworks, I have three more events, and I'm thinking that some of these covers will be sold out sooner rather than later. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for supporting Muscadine Press. More than anything, I'm grateful for the opportunity to encourage you in your walk with the Lord. Thank you for inviting me in and letting me be a part of your life in this way. It means the world to me. And I'm not just saying that. Leslie Ann
Given the option between a life of ease and a life of suffering, I'll take the the easy road every time. Yes please to the good life. Hard pass on the hardship. But Jesus isn't like me. He knew what was to come, and he walked toward it with eyes and arms wide open.
Here lately, every time I hear the familiar chords of an old hymn at church, tears prick my eyes, and it's a real struggle not to ugly cry in the middle of the sanctuary. It's the darnedest thing. Given the sidelong glances she gives me every time it happens, I'm pretty sure that our youngest daughter is seriously worried about me.