autoimmune disease

A Heart That Still Beats

/ Christine Maynor / Leave a comment

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My Daily Musings-March 11th, 2026

Sometimes when we feel discomfort or pain in our bodies, our instinct is to turn away from it. We want to distract ourselves or wish it away. But yesterday my therapist guided me through a meditation called Turning Toward.

Instead of ignoring the discomfort, I acknowledged it for a moment. I noticed where it was and simply allowed it to be there.

Then later in the meditation, I was asked to scan my body and find a place that felt pleasant or peaceful. Somewhere that reminded me that not everything was pain.

I placed my hand over my heart and focused on the steady rhythm of it beating.

In that quiet moment, I felt something unexpected—gratitude.

Even though my body has limitations because of autoimmune disease, it is still a gift. This heart keeps beating. My lungs keep breathing. My body continues to carry me through each day.

I can acknowledge the struggles my body faces while still feeling grateful for the miracle of it.

Today I felt thankful for this body my Heavenly Father has given me—the one that allows me to live, to love, and to experience this life.

What parts of your life can you turn toward with gratitude today?

The Echo of Home

/ Christine Maynor / Leave a comment

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Backstory:
Over the past several years of living with an autoimmune disease, there have been days when I have felt like I was standing alone in a vast canyon-my prayers rising upward and my questions echoing back to me. When pain lingers and strength feels thin, it’s easy to wonder if anyone truly understands. But slowly, in the stillness, I began to notice something. After I cried out to my Father in Heaven, something would return. Not always healing. Not always immediate answers. But peace and strength for the next breath. A quiet reminder that I was known. It felt like an echo. And I began to realize that an echo only comes when something is there to receive the sound. Maybe I was never calling into emptiness after all. Maybe heaven has never left me.

The Echo of Home

Oh my Beloved Father in Heaven,
Some days it’s hard to feel you near and I question.
The pain inside me is more than I can bear,
But in the stillness of the canyon, you are there.

When I cry out to You for relief,
You echo back love to help my unbelief.
Though my eyes cannot physically see,
I feel Your presence reaching for me.

I know I lived with You before my birth,
Help me remember my Divine Worth.
You have never left me to walk alone,
Even when the path feels unknown.

Please hold me close so I might see 
The blessings You have given me. 
And through the weight of my hardest days, 
Please help my heart to sing Your praise.

In the canyon of my trouble and fear,
Let the echo of love make my doubts disappear. 
I know You love me more than I can say, 
And You will never leave me, come what may.

The Takeaway: When we feel alone and our prayers seem to disappear into silence, we may just need to become still enough to listen. God’s love does not always shout. Often it returns softly-in peace, in endurance, in remembered truth. The pause between our cry and His comfort is not absence; it is the sacred space where faith grows. If you can hear even the faintest return of hope, it means you were heard. You left heaven to come here. But heaven has never left you.

When I Falter, You Remain

/ Christine Maynor / 1 Comment

Thank you for subscribing-may these words bring a quiet moment of peace and reflection to your day.

Backstory: 
As I reflected on the phrase “Jesus is my portion,” I couldn’t stop thinking about Job. He lost everything that defined stability — family, health, security, reputation — yet he did not lose his faith. If I’m honest, I don’t know that I would respond with immediate praise the way he did. I know my heart. I would probably grieve loudly. I might question. I might wrestle. But then I realized something: Job did wrestle. He lamented. He questioned. He sat in ashes. What made him faithful wasn’t the absence of pain — it was the refusal to let go of God in the pain. As I’ve walked through my own trials, I’ve faltered at times. I’ve doubted. I’ve wondered if I could keep going. But I am still here. Still believing. Still calling on the name of Jesus. And maybe that is what it means for Him to be my portion — not that life is easy, but that He remains.

When I Falter, You Remain

We treasure things in life, those material possessions
Until they slowly turn into our obsessions.
The world can take away our material wealth,
It can even take away our strength and health.

These things are fleeting in the grander scheme,
Though losing them feels like a broken dream.
What truly matters is our faith in the Son,
For with Him by our side, the battle is won.

Like Job who lost his home and family,
And sat in ashes, grieving bitterly.
In that dark hour, he faced every weakness,
Yet held fast to the promise of his Jesus.

When storms of life begin to rage and swell, 
And we have stories of deep grief to tell, 
We find that when the Lord is made our portion, 
Our souls find peace amidst the world's commotion.

If we remain quite faithful to the end, 
And keep the Savior as our truest friend, 
He’ll guide our footsteps all along the way, 
With love far deeper than our words can say.

The Takeaway: Faith does not require perfection. It requires persistence. We may falter. We may question. We may sit in ashes for a season. But as long as we keep calling upon the Lord and trusting Him to be our strength, we are not lost. When Jesus is our portion, He becomes our security when everything else feels unstable. He is our inheritance when earthly things are taken. He is our strength when we are too weary to stand alone. We do not have to endure life’s trials by ourselves. If we cling to Him, we can make it through anything — together.

Scattered Stars of Hope

/ Christine Maynor / Leave a comment

Thank you for subscribing-may these words bring a quiet moment of peace and reflection to your day.

My Daily Musings-Feb.17th, 2026

Sometimes I think about why our Heavenly Father created the sun. Of course it gives warmth and life to the earth, but I also believe it is a tender reminder that we were never meant to live in darkness.

And even when the sun sets, He did not leave us without light. He placed the moon and scattered the stars across the sky so that even the darkest night still carries a glow.

In the same way, He has never left our souls without light. When discouragement creeps in, when grief feels heavy, or when trials seem too much to bear, we are not abandoned to spiritual darkness. He sent His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, to be our Light.

Sometimes that light feels bright and steady. Other times it may feel small—like a distant star. But it is always there.

Because of Him, there is always hope.
Because of Him, darkness never wins.

🤍 Reflection Questions

  1. When have I felt even a small “star-like” light from the Savior during a dark time in my life?
  2. How can I reflect His light to someone who may be walking through darkness right now?

A Small Light (Question of the Month)

/ Christine Maynor / 2 Comments

Thank you for subscribing-may these words bring a quiet moment of peace and reflection to your day.

I believe that faith wasn’t meant to be lived out in silence. We are meant to walk this path together, sharing the things that lift our hearts and steady our feet.

As I prepare for some exciting things coming in March—including being a guest on the Latter-day Lights podcast—I want to take a moment to hear from you.

Each month, I’ll be asking a “Question of the Month” to help us connect. For February, my question is:

“What is one small ‘light’ or tender mercy that has guided your path this week?”

Whether it was a line from a favorite poem, a quiet moment of prayer, or a kind word from a stranger, I’d love for you to share it in the comments below.

Let’s fill this space with the little lights that keep us going.