“Dear Lord, I pray that all limitations, weaknesses, defects, pain, hurt, mistakes, embarrassment, and imperfection in my personal and public life, relationships and circumstances be eliminated.” This book is for any woman who has ever prayed this prayer or for the one who has even thought it. Joan Webb, a self-proclaimed recovering perfectionist, knows how hard it is for determined and caring women to step into the relief of imperfection. And yet, this is exactly what God wants for us. The Relief of Imperfection encourages the reader to believe the truth about God, others, herself and her reality, thus eventually releasing her from the pursuit of perfection to relax in the relief of imperfection. Webb provides real-life stories, including how Jesus lived in the midst of imperfect surroundings, to show that it is OK with God to cease trying to appear perfect and have all the right answers all the time. Readers will find permission to stop pretending and start enjoying authentic, intimate relationships with others, with themselves and with God.

Each book in this inspirational series for women is coordinated to the seasons of the year, with 90 days of scripture passages, devotional readings, and quotes framed by photos and art of the seasons. As women meditate on the thoughts contained in this uplifting book, they will find the stillness of winter replaced with personal and spiritual rejuvenation.

Winner of the 2019 Pinckley Prize for Debut Novel "[An] atmospheric suspense novel . . . Pick it up now." —O, THE OPRAH MAGAZINE In the wintery silences of Pennsylvania’s Blue Ridge Mountains, a woman befriends a mysterious foreigner—setting in motion this suspenseful, atmospheric, politically charged debut After surviving a life-altering accident at twenty-two, Kathleen recuperates by retreating to a remote campground lodge in a state park, where she works flipping burgers for deer hunters and hikers—happy, she insists, to be left alone. But when a hesitant, heavily accented stranger appears in the dead of winter—seemingly out of nowhere, kicking snow from his flimsy dress shoes—the wary Kathleen is intrigued, despite herself. He says he’s a student from Uzbekistan. To her he seems shell-shocked, clearly hiding from something that terrifies him. And as she becomes absorbed in his secrets, she’s forced to confront her own—even as her awareness of being in danger grows . . . Steeped in the rugged beauty of the Blue Ridge Mountains, with America’s war on terror raging in the background, Sarah St.Vincent’s Ways to Hide in Winter is a powerful story about violence and redemption, betrayal and empathy . . . and how we reconcile the unforgivable in those we love.

A world list of books in the English language.

Elizabeth Caldwell doesn’t feel emotions, she sees them. Longing and Shame materialize at school. Fury and Resentment appear in her home. They’ve all given up on Elizabeth, but when it matters most, will Fear save her?

Three is a numerical symbol used throughout literature, especially Holy Scripture, to signify completion, the full whole, the circle joined. In Volume III of Quiet Sheba, the final volume of the trilogy, I have, again, my lamentations, with their similar subjects and themes as different and repeated vehicles of carriage for thought, finishing the construct provided by work already known to my readers. There are death- and triumph, joy beside heavy sorrow, but, more, the very purposed movement within experience, carrying toward a conclusion, that of ones own place, again, at table. We do conclude, as we began, at table, but with more cautious steps and thoughtful strategies; and continuing, beauty remains, for many, for me, the antidote to sorrow, with illness and bitter acceptance, full, still, often. The valediction then, is thoughtful: for morning, it remains, sunrise; for evening it falls gently as twilight. But whether a passage in nature, or the appearing of a memory- a hymn or prayer of any of many methods of closure these verses finally conclude, a coming back to table, to the feast of life, for we come to know that there is no antidote to truth, and ours, now, is the only life we can objectively know; when living is no longer a reality, it is not. As Stephen Cranes desert beast states, while eating its own heart, crying bitter, bitter we, as the beast, embrace, take into ourselves eat, drink, - all for it is the only one we have, and we love it if to the side, to use the French poet, Verlaines poignant strikingly powerful closing words describing the falling seasonal ambiance of the year: Et je pleure (And I weep) the fullest source of working truth, reason, giving up the response poetic beautiful or no: And I weep. In life, we are not wise, but willful, yet in the holistic view, we live our most sentiment lying over reason, it very now hurting, but with that arrangement with which we look, always, to find the grail, the feast, the peace.