I hope this finds you all doing well. You haven’t heard from me in awhile (except on Notes) because I have been busy with book stuff and being sick. I spent all of this past week swallo…

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Hello Friends,

I pray these words speak hope and assurance and joy to your spirit on this Resurrection Sunday and always.

Heaven’s Light

Light came down, love profound
Wrapped in swaddling clothes;
M…

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The recurring theme in my heart this Holy Week is that Jesus chose mercy. He could have summoned legions of angels. He could have destroyed His captors. He could have said no to taking …

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Hello Friends,

I am sharing this (edited) post from last year because I think the message is worth thinking on again.

My Jesus willingly rode into Jerusalem to face His death so that my death can be bu…

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Hello Friends,

Last week I shared the words below on Substack notes, and today I created a video with them. May the words, music, beauty, and our Savior who inspired all bring you peace and assurance …

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If we confess our sins, He is faithful and righteous to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. — 1 John 1:9 NAS95

Hello Friends,

Every year March 4th takes me back to the same date in 1973* when a pastor named John baptized me in a small Baptist church on a hill in a rural Missouri town. I had come to Christ the previous summer—or rather He came to me—during Vacation Bible School that was led by a busload of college students from Birmingham, Alabama. I would love to reconnect with the young woman named Susan who sat with me on a church pew while she walked with me on the path to salvation.

God inscribed me on the palm of His hand that day and kept me there even through my ignorance and disobedience in the years to come. I am exceedingly grateful for His mercy toward me and that the grace He has poured out upon my life is fathomless and eternal.

The old cinder block church building is no longer there. The pastor who baptized me died many years ago. And I have no idea where Susan lives or if she still lives. But the prayer she prayed with me that day marked my heart forever, and the forgiveness gifted to me that day set my soul free. It just took me several years to step into the glorious freedom my Jesus purchased for me.

Thank you, Jesus, for drawing my heart to yours all those years ago and for faithfully and gently tugging it toward you when it ignorantly or stubbornly veered from your path. Thank you for continuing to teach me about obedience, holiness, forgiveness, freedom, grace, mercy, truth, surrender, trust, faith, hope, and divine love. You are everything my soul yearns for, the light my mind seeks, and the love that fills my heart to overflowing. Hallelujah.

In Christ,

Janice

*I am fairly certain of the year. I think I was nine the summer I was saved.

Connect with me here:

Email: wordsbeyondme@cox.net

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I am coming to you today from the Gulf where the water is sparkling and churning with some mild whitecaps as I write. Saturday evening when we arrived, it was gently lapping and looked …

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It’s been a little bit of a wild week.

If you caught any of my notes, you saw I made a trip to the ER to get checked out because of some symptoms I experienced after the coil embolization on February 12. They ran some tests and kept me overnight for observation, but they could not find any cause of my chest tightness and cough, and the worsening overnight oxygen sats do not seem to be related to the procedure. Of course, if they had let me sleep longer than 15 minutes at a time, they might have caught my O2 dropping in deep sleep. My pulmonologist is following up by ordering a home sleep study. I realized that the chest issues could be another presentation of my contrast dye allergy, a theory my internist agreed with. Now I am ok, except for the nighttime oxygen deprivation and finishing a round of steroids, both which cause me to feel the opposite of rested and refreshed. But onward.

In other news, my daughter who has our only grandbaby is visiting. She and her younger sister (our youngest) wanted me to play cards with them last night. Offering to hold baby, I squeezed the wiggling, reaching, drooling, grabbing, 6-month-old sweetie with my forearms while simultaneously gripping my cards just out of reach of those pudgy, wet fingers, all the while feeling like the squishy human bouncy ball with busy limbs and fuzzy hair would lurch right off my lap at any moment. I mean, it has been approximately 19.75 years since I wrestled a 6-month-old for any length of time. I’m a little rusty.

Meanwhile, younger daughter’s boyfriend FaceTimed, rattling off technical questions from his A&P license practice test and discussing with youngest how my husband, an aircraft mechanic for 40 years and counting, would know all the answers. Daughters also named off options for where they were going to go eat, but youngest said she had to start her laundry first. But first she had to show sister her thrift store haul mid-card game round. Attempting to mentally follow all the chatter and activity, I assumed they were leaving, so I went to grab my iPad and change clothes to jump on my elliptical.

Them: “We want to play cards!”

Me: “Y’all are about to give me ADD.”

Whew! Game paused, exercise done, food obtained. Just another calm, peaceful evening for the Powells, now numbering 13 souls counting sons-in-law and baby. I am thankful. A little frazzled, but thankful, for not so long ago, there were some relationship issues between some of the siblings. But now, mercifully, the Lord is repairing those, much to my heart’s delight. So very thankful.

A few more items of interest are that I had messed up the previous discount codes on my website because sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing, but if you are a paid subscriber, check the bottom of this post for a code for 20% off on book orders on my website. Whether you are a free or paid subscriber, you may use the code LAUNCHTEAM for free shipping.

Lest you think I am too tired to fill orders, be assured that boxing up the book of my heart and sending it where it needs to go is healing and brings me great joy. Order away.

ORDER HERE

The other item of interest is that next Friday, Lord willing, I am heading to the beach with some mom friends for our every-other-year trip. Please pray for those who are caring for their elderly parents, as their situations make the logistics more complicated and worrisome. We always trust God to arrange the trip as He wills, right down to the weather details and departure times for all vehicles. But that doesn’t necessarily make it easier for some to leave, especially this year.

I will be shipping books through Thursday, but after that, my order processing department (me) and shipping department (also me) will be first driving to, then lounging on, the beach. Be forewarned that the scenery and peaceful communion with the Lord there tends to make me wordy (wordier?), so you will probably see many photos and words throughout the week if He chooses to help me share some that will bless you. May it be so.

Now for the potentially boring part. Below are before and after images of my bronchial artery aneurysm and bronchial artery aneurysm to pulmonary artery fistula. As I probably mentioned on here before, each is rare, but to have them both together is “exceedingly rare.” Here’s the not boring, praise-the-Lord part: Prior to the procedure, the interventional radiologist planned to embolize the fistula as deeply as possible then see how I did and do the larger aneurysm later. But he was very happy he was able to fill nearly the whole squiggly, aneurysmal artery plus the bigger bulging artery. I now have 23 platinum coils in there. When I texted my oldest that information, he texted back, “Platinum is $2,000/oz now. Looks like me and Cam (sister) will be taking you to the pawn shop pretty soon.” So funny.

That brings me to the end of another installment of Why I Cling to My Jesus. I hope you all are doing well and haven’t seen as many doctors or had as many needle pokes as I have the last few weeks. While the hospital visit this week seemed pointless, I have to believe that God wanted me there for some reason. May He water and sprout whatever seeds He planted. And would someone please tell the hospital to remove margarine from their menu.

In Christ,

Janice

Trust in the LORD with all your heart
And do not lean on your own understanding.

In all your ways acknowledge Him,
And He will make your paths straight.

— Proverbs 3:5-6 NAS95

Connect with me here:

JaniceKPowell.com

Email: wordsbeyondme@cox.net

Facebook: Words Beyond Me and Blessed is the Nation

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Hello Friends,

Last night I held my second book event, this time called Chat Over …

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Today I am re-sharing a story I posted here two years ago today so that my free subscribers who have joined me since then don’t miss it. If you have read it before, the edits, as well as the story itself, will make it worth your time to read again.

It is a story that goes back 74 years as we humans count time, but God arranged the events before time began. I originally wrote it about 12 years ago and had the privilege of sharing it with my mom back then. She loved it, but of course she was doubly biased since she actually lived it and her daughter wrote it. Because of this story, Groundhog Day holds a special memory for my siblings and me and will always make me think of Mom and Dad. Read on to discover the link between groundhogs and love:

I am about to make my mom cry. I will no doubt shed some tears myself before I get done with the telling. But I have to tell it because it’s a sweet, beautiful love story. And in 1963, it became my story.

Most people only think of February 2 as the day when a groundhog named Punxsutawney Phil pokes his head out so we can check if he sees his shadow, and somehow that predicts the weather. If the little rodent sees his shadow, we are headed into six more weeks of winter. If, however, he does not see his shadow, we can anticipate an early spring.

Thanks to some stealthy internet research, I discovered that way back in 1952, the groundhog did, in fact, see his shadow. But here’s something else that was seen on that day. It wasn’t on the news, nor did then President Truman even catch a glimpse of it. Perhaps he should have, though, since the story involved a man who had fought valiantly in WWII:  A soldier who saved the lives of the men in his unit by warning them away from a booby-trapped Italian farmhouse that would have blown them to bits had they crossed the threshold. A soldier whose own life would have been snuffed out had he not heeded the voice that urged him away from the haystack he hunkered behind. A soldier who crossed the Po River with three eggs in his pocket for a midnight breakfast on the other side. A soldier who was awarded three bronze stars. A soldier who returned home alive and intact, with only some shrapnel in his leg but with the shards of war undoubtedly embedded in his soul.

In 1952, that former decorated soldier studied to earn his teacher’s certificate while a female student who was ten years younger worked in the college registrar’s office in a small Missouri town. The Lord had made sure their paths crossed multiple times in the preceding months, including placing the former soldier at the same typewriter the female student used following his class. When she arrived for class, there he sat. Waiting for her, no doubt.

Their first date occurred on Groundhog Day, 1952, when they attended a college football game together. Eleven weeks later, on April 20, they married. The woman later justified their very short engagement by declaring, “If you know he’s the right one, why wait?”

Two years later, their first child, a girl, entered the world. A couple of years after that, they got a two-for-one when my twin brothers came along. Back then, the doctor came to their house to deliver “the baby,” only to discover another baby hiding in there. Surprise!

The photo below, published in the local electric coop newsletter, shows mom and half of the eventual six kids in front of the brand new electric washer, c. 1958. Dad was behind the camera, no doubt feeling very proud of himself for sneaking the fancy new washer into the basement to surprise my mom. I am sure she didn’t miss the old ringer washer at all.

Fast-forward a few more years to 1963 to when their only dark-haired child was born—me.

A nostalgic snapshot of my childhood includes station wagons, Dad’s bowling leagues, a black and white television with a clunky knob, a telephone party line, root beer floats, swimming in the lake, riding bikes where there were no sidewalks, floating on rafts on the pond, sledding down steep hills, tadpoles (dying) in jars, traipsing through the 40-acre woods and beyond, linoleum, shag carpet, 16 mm home movies, Big Chief tablets, five-cent milks and orange sherbet push-ups, kittens, puppies, calves, a milk cow named Bossy, rainbows, and unicorns. (Just kidding. I never saw a unicorn.) There might even have been some teenage drama and ridiculous behavior in there as well, but I won’t discuss my sister right now.

Meanwhile, my parents enjoyed their married and family life with their six kids—that is, when they weren’t aware of what we were up to when we roamed the woods, played in culverts, and slid down steep, grass-covered hillsides into rock piles. If I were to describe their marriage in a few words, I would choose committed and fun. My dad was far from perfect, but he loved to laugh and especially enjoyed playing practical jokes on others to make them laugh. My reserved, somewhat shy mother’s eyebrows remained in a constantly raised state because of my father’s sometimes off-color humor and antics. But he could sure make her laugh.

Even in the laughter, though, their life together was rarely easy, and sometimes it was terribly difficult. Along with the inherent difficulties and trials of raising six kids, they endured financial strain and stressful job situations, as well as a house fire that destroyed nearly all of their possessions a week before my 16th birthday. But nothing was as heart-wrenching as Dad’s diagnosis of stage III lung cancer in early 2000 and his subsequent treatments and decline.

After 17 months of hopeful medical intervention, small improvements and setbacks, then a week of obviously last days, Dad, husband to our mom for 49 years and one month, passed away on May 20, 2001. That year the shadow of the groundhog predicted a longer winter. I don’t remember any actual weather details of that time, but I do remember the abysmal ache of loss we felt when death cast its shadow over us. Our family grieved the absence of the man who was husband, father, grandfather, uncle, and friend. The rest of Mom’s days yawned before her like a hollow chasm, and she sorrowfully but determinedly envisioned spending the rest of her life alone. It seemed winter had come to stay.

However, such was not to be, for God began to reveal His plan to give my mom the gift of another love by orchestrating events to bring her and an old acquaintance together. Neither of them would have chosen the paths of grief they were forced to walk, but they gratefully embraced their second chance at love. In 2005, the 73-year-olds married a few weeks after old Phil poked out his head and saw his shadow.

In her loss, when all Mom could see before her was a long winter of loneliness, God, in His goodness, blessed her with an early spring of love.

In 1952 and in 2005, the groundhog got it wrong.

Janice Powell

Originally penned in 2013, edited 2024 and 2026.

February 2026 edit:

My newly released devotional book, My Jesus: Reflections of the Redeemer, is available here:

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Today’s newsletter is just to let you know that Valentine’s Day is a few weeks away, and I have an idea . . . What better gift for your loved one than a book brimming with the love of Je…

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Did you know that in just the first five days of My Jesus: Reflections of the Redeemer—in one sentence a day—you will encounter all of these themes and attributes of Christ?

If you already have your copy, then you know every page is brimming with truth, hope, peace, and power. That is because the scriptures referenced are the basis for the truths expressed in each day’s reading. The scriptures don’t enhance the reading—they are the very reason for every word. You will even discover “extra” themes and attributes in the suggested references, so the potential is great for finding yourself down rabbit trails. But rabbit trails in the word are the best kind!

If you do not yet have a copy of the book, know that this devotional is undated, so you may begin as soon as you receive it. You have the freedom to move along at your own pace and enjoy a simple daily statement free of author commentary, superfluous words, and unhelpful platitudes, but overflowing with beauty because the subject is beautiful—Jesus Christ.

Would you like to share these captivating and comforting attributes of Christ with a loved one? You may now add a gift note on the order page. I will include a printed gift note, and wrap and ship the book for you. Remember, you also receive the lovely custom bookmark as my gift to you with every book purchased. Click the button at the bottom of this post for my website. Below the paywall is a discount code for paid subscribers.

Thank you for your support. Many of you have prayed for me during the writing and publishing process (and for my medical procedures), encouraged me along the way, and purchased books, either from me or from Amazon. I appreciate every kind word, every prayer, and every purchase.

Come and hear, all who fear God, 
And I will tell of what He has done for my soul.
- Psalm 66:16

In Christ,

Janice

Order from me here!

Email: wordsbeyondme@cox.net

Facebook: Words Beyond Me and Blessed is the Nation

Ask for the book at your favorite bookstore or click to order through these retailers:

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Books-A-Million

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Just want to let you know that I received my book shipment from one of the distributors on Friday! If you already placed your order of My Jesus: Reflections of the Redeemer through my w…

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May you be blessed by these words.

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Well, it was kind of odd to have a book premier party with only one book (since Amazon has not shipped my author copies), but we pulled it off last night. Several members of my local bo…

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Now you get to see the actual book fresh from Amazon rather than a mockup or the proof copy with the Not for Resale label. My dear friend, whom I have known since our now 30-someth…

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Hello Friends,

I sure hope you are not tired of hearing about . . . The Book. Today I want to share this little reel showing some of what sets this devotional apart f…

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