Raynna Myers: Writing & Photography

Let's Follow Where Mercy Leads

A Confession

Sometimes I write over at The Martyrs’ Cross blog. Today, I posted something that may be of interest to all my readers: “A Confession” in a series I write called, Through the Children’s Eyes. If you ever look out at the world and wonder, “What can I do?”, I relate. I often hear our Heavenly Father’s voice when I instruct my children. Sometimes I don’t *get it* right away but since.. Read More

Dear Mom Who Needs Rest (OR: How to be a Super Mom)

I’ve got a whole lot of hurting hearts on my heart as I write today. People with grief I don’t know how to touch are on my mind. People who find resonance in Jeremiah’s words when he said, “I wish I hadn’t even been born.” I’m praying and I’m wondering what can be done. I’m praying for that illuminating moment we all need from time to time, that hand beyond.. Read More

Exploring His Presence to Live More Present in 2016, Part 3 (OR: When burning letters set my heart on fire again)

I was wrestling with a seemingly impossible barrier in my heart as I tried to sleep one night when somewhere between sleep and wake I saw the words I AM. My mind’s eye followed the image and watched the letters burn off in flame, yet remain. Within moments and breaths, and without fully knowing how or when, the barrier had fallen. Within the name, I AM, I finally understood the answer to.. Read More

Exploring His Presence to Live More Present in 2016, Part 2 of 3 (OR: Waking up in a different language)

Lately, I’m on my way back to go forward again. And the best way to describe that is to say, I am here. Mercy is teaching me this. I’ll back up on what I mean by that for a minute…One morning a few years ago, I woke up speaking Indonesian. Yeah. (For those of you who don’t know me personally: I grew up a Midwest gal and currently have got.. Read More

Exploring His Presence to Live More Present in 2016 (Part 1 of 3) (OR: What I knew at four and remember in storms)

I was four years old and a rowdy Missouri storm was beating down on our roof in the middle of the night. The lightning lit up my room like day and I was a very scared little girl. So I ran to my big sister’s room and woke her up of course. I still remember huddling together in the corner of her bed that was closest to the wall and.. Read More

I Choose Joy Because God

It’s what the children know without an explanation or need for one. It’s what they don’t know too and why they need me to know it. Joy is a choice. The often cited “research” results that children laugh 400 times a day compared to the 17.5 times of an adult has been revealed as an urban myth. However, as a mom to several young children I can vouch that there.. Read More

Living With the Ache for Home

Who knew I would speak with not one, but two of my children, between the ages of 3-14, this week about their future spouses, their future lives. I found in my boys a longing to know their place in this world. How surprised I was to come across their tiny but true nonetheless, ache. I perceived in them, ache. They are aching for their wholeness, and so am I. I didn’t.. Read More

Burnt Toast: A Prayer, (and poetry too)

Wouldn’t it be just the way of it? The morning I have this wonderful break-through thought, a certain breath from heaven kind-of-thought that transforms my affections and makes me ache with the longing to honor my God even as I cook breakfast for my family, all filling me up warm and bright inside—I burn the toast.

I don’t mean burn in the toaster kind-of-burn the toast, I mean, “Everybody open the windows before the fire alarm goes off!”, kind-…

The Liminal Space of a Woman with Child

When you transition from knowing your own writing voice only within the confines of personal journal pages and letters to family and friends out into the public domain, you wonder what it will be like. I’m only a couple of years into this experiment and here’s what it is like for me: freedom.

I’d written an article or two over the years that reached beyond my personal sphere but nothing like this last year. It feels vulnerable too, but that feeling pales in comparison to the joy of finding my walking legs after the work of crawling. The sense of freedom only enlarges when…