Ginny L. Yttrup's Blog

Seeing the God Who Sees

“She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: ‘You are the God who sees me,’ for she said, ‘I have now seen the One who sees me.”
Genesis 16:13

In the circular way God often leads, I recently found myself back in the wilderness, tracing the path of Hagar. I’ve walked with God since childhood and have heard and read of Hagar’s plight dozens, if not hundreds, of times. Yet, I sensed God asking me to follow Him back to Genesis again.

The familiar story plays: Sarai attempts to control the u...

Finding Mary

At 5:02 AM an alert, set to the Stress tone, sounded in my mind. Heart racing, breaths coming in shallow bursts, a long list of impossible to-dos running through my mind, I greeted the day. I threw back the covers and put feet to the floor of my bedroom by night, office by day. I strode to the kitchen where I filled a mug with 16 ounces of strong, black coffee, then returned to bed, phone next to me on the nightstand.

I reached for the phone, as has become my habit.

Email and social media as...

The Voices Within

I’m vaguely aware of my dog’s paw, small and gentle, on my shoulder. His tap, tap, tapping pulls me from the fog of slumber.

“No,” I mumble, certain day has not yet broken night.

As I roll away from my persistent pup, a knife stabs at the base of my neck and thousands of needles drill into my right shoulder, arm, hand, and fingers. I moan, though not audibly. Instead the moan rises within. Echoes within. Resides within. READ MORE

Every Escape I’ve Known

I opened the mailbox and pulled out a stack of envelopes. As I thumbed through them before making the short walk back to the house, I saw it. The return address. And I knew.

The contents of the small envelope would wound me.

Deeply.

As the sender has wounded me so many times before.

My breath caught and tears brimmed as I made my way back into the house where I dropped the mail on the kitchen counter, with the exception of one small envelope. Maybe I’m wrong… Maybe it isn’t what I suspect…

I to...

Every Escape I’ve Known…

 

I opened the mailbox and pulled out a stack of envelopes. As I thumbed through them before making the short walk back to the house, I saw it. The return address. And I knew.

The contents of the small envelope would wound me.

Deeply.

As the sender has wounded me so many times before.

My breath caught and tears brimmed as I made my way back into the house where I dropped the mail on the kitchen counter, with the exception of one small envelope. Maybe I’m wrong… Maybe it isn’t what I suspect…...

I’m Paying Atten… Wait, What?

I confess, I’m a bit of a rebel. A quiet, mostly well-behaved rebel, but a rebel nonetheless. I don’t like conforming. Following the crowd. When it seems everyone is doing something…

Like making resolutions at the beginning of a new year.

Or choosing a word for the year.

I want to do something else.

Besides, those resolutions are so…resolute.

So just as I was rolling my eyes at the tide of new year commitments rising in my social media feed last week, a term flowed through my consciousness…

...

Doubt Sparks

The boughs of the redwoods, browned by the drought, bounce in the breeze. The same breeze that stirs the King Fire up the road, and the Meadow Fire in Yosemite National Park. Smoke, like doubt, clouds the horizon.

Flames, the novel I’m writing, is never far from my mind—or my doubts.

It isn’t that the story isn’t good.

Or that I don’t believe in what I’m writing.

I just wonder, again… Am I doing the right thing? A careless comment nags. A disheartening article pesters. A thoughtless question...

Raising Men

If I’d known then what I know now…  When I held those precious babes bundled in blue. When during the night watches I rocked them to the rhythm of my prayers. When I was their whole world and innocence was still their reality. If I’d known then…

I would have held them tighter.

Prayed harder.

Kept them from the world.

—-

This day, women’s whispers haunt me. I’ve never told anyone before, they begin. Faces stained with tears. Eyes hooded with shame. They pause. Swallow. Start again. I search my...

Rooted

I pounded the letters into metal—over and over—one letter at a time. The stamped jewelry was part of a 200+ piece custom order bearing the group’s theme.

I saw the letters during the days as I worked.

I dreamt the letters at night.

I knew the letters in both English and Spanish.

But the word constructed of the individual letters held no meaning beyond the craft of the moment—beyond an order to complete. The pounding was mechanical leaving my mind free to wander, wonder, and…worry.

Would I be...

Lost and Found

I was thrilled to read another 5 star review of Lost and Found! Link here: Reading with Teddy G.

I’ve promised to share negative reviews too, but so far, they’re all positive.