This morning’s devotional flows from a quiet porch in Alabama and a family celebration that speaks of God’s faithfulness. Both remind me that the Lord meets us in still moments and in the milestones of life, and that His heart is always one of abundance.

Scripture Focus (NKJV)

Matthew 14:19–21
“Then He commanded the multitudes to sit down on the grass. And He took the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to heaven, He blessed and broke and gave the loaves to the disciples; and the disciples gave to the multitudes. So they all ate and were filled, and they took up twelve baskets full of the fragments that remained. Now those who had eaten were about five thousand men, besides women and children.”

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A Quiet Morning on the Sun Porch

This morning I’m sitting on the sun porch of my mother-in-law’s house. The whole house is still asleep, and it’s early — the kind of early morning where the world feels hushed. The sun is already up here in South Alabama, spilling its light through the windows, warming the porch as I cradle my coffee. And in this stillness, I feel Him close — once again, God has met me in the quiet of these morning hours.

There’s something about being here that feels like time itself slows down. Life’s rush fades away, and all the noise that usually clamors for attention seems to pause at the door. Every time I walk into this home, it’s as if she has been here all along, waiting for us. I can almost picture her looking out the windows of her sun porch, watching for us to pull into the drive — anticipating our arrival with the kind of joy that made us feel instantly at home. And in her welcome, I’m reminded of how God Himself waits for us with that same expectant love, always ready to meet us with open arms.

Being here feels like slipping into her embrace again — a reminder that love leaves a legacy long after we’ve stepped into eternity. That kind of love, steady and generous, is its own reflection of the God of abundance. Her home still offers peace, still gives rest, still carries the imprint of love poured out daily. And in those moments, God meets me too, whispering that His abundance is not only found in miracles but also in the quiet, faithful ways love endures.

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A Life Worth Celebrating

We are here in Alabama for a reason that feels like its own picture of abundance: to celebrate my husband’s Aunt’s 90th birthday. What a gift it is to gather around her, to honor her life, and to witness the joy of three generations — her, her daughter, and her granddaughter. Her story is one of blessing multiplied over time — a life that has touched so many and continues to ripple out in love.

She built her life quite literally across the street from her parents, keeping close the roots that formed her. Side by side with her husband, she created a home filled with music, art, laughter, and faith. She raised her daughter in the same rural community of Dixonville where she herself once played as a girl, surrounded by family and friends who became like family. Her house became more than a home — it became a reflection of God’s abundant love, a place of welcome, hospitality, and peace that pointed others to Christ.

My husband’s Aunt is an artist, with paintbrushes that capture beauty; a gifted musician who played the piano faithfully for her own church Sunday after Sunday, who also played the mandolin, taught her siblings how to harmonize, and even performed on her granddad’s radio show in her early years; a wife who stood faithfully beside her husband; a mother whose love formed a daughter’s world; and a friend whose kindness has carried many. But above all, her life sings of Christ. The steady, generous love of God has marked her days — not in spotlight moments alone, but in the quiet daily faithfulness that reflects Him so clearly.

We gathered for her 90th birthday in the beautiful gathering place of the First Baptist Church in Brewton — a place with stained glass windows, gleaming wood floors, chandeliers casting warm light, and a piano tucked to the side. The theme was Blue Bell Ice Cream, her favorite, and the room was filled with displays of her many years of artwork, family photos, and memories that told her story. Family and friends poured in to celebrate this remarkable woman — not with tears, but with laughter, joy, and deep gratitude.

The air was alive with love as we shared stories of her integrity, her quiet grace, her compassion that has touched each of us, and her devotion, strength, and faithfulness. Her legacy is woven into every embrace, every story told, every smile shared that day — and it continues to live on in her family and friends, a generational ripple of abundance through Christ.

And as I looked around that sanctuary, I thought: this is abundance. Abundance in years granted, abundance in love received and given, abundance in gifts shared, and abundance in faith lived out daily. Her life is a living reminder that God’s abundance isn’t only found in miracles on hillsides or in baskets of bread and fish — it is also found in a long obedience, a faithful heart, and a legacy that continues to bless generation after generation.

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Reflection

In the last two devotionals, the Lord kept drawing me back to the lyrics of Spare Change by Brandon Lake — to the ache and the honesty of asking, the wrestle between not enough and “more than we can imagine.” This week, He shifts my eyes from lyrics to living truth: God does not deal in leftovers. He is the God of abundance.

I hear it like a whisper and a promise: When you ask, I give. When I died, you gained eternal life. When you step out in faith, I provide. When you surrender, I restore.

On that Galilean hillside, five loaves and two fish became a table set for thousands. Not just enough — more than enough.Baskets of “after.” Baskets that say, My grace doesn’t run out; it runs over.

I think about the seasons when my heart felt empty, pockets turned out, hope thin at the edges. And I see Jesus kneeling in front of my brokenness, taking my outstretched hand, meeting my eyes — the way only a Savior does — and saying, “Daughter, I am not spare change. I am the storehouse.”

And then I look at my husband’s Aunt’s life — ninety years lived fully for Christ. Her story is a living picture of how abundance flows when we root ourselves in Him. It isn’t only the number of years that is remarkable, but the richness of those years: faith passed down, love poured out, gifts of music and art shared freely, and a family knit together by her example. This is what happens when we live for Christ: He multiplies more than we could ever imagine. He gives abundance in His Spirit, and that abundance spills over into the fabric of our lives.

Abundance in His presence. Abundance in mercy. Abundance in quiet miracles that look like daily bread and strength to keep going. Abundance that re-writes what lack tried to name in me, and abundance that shows itself in a life like hers — steady, faithful, generous, and full of Christ.

So today, I’m choosing to sit down on the grass with the crowd, to place my little in His hands, and to watch Him bless, break, and multiply what I could never make enough of on my own.

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Journaling Prompts

• Where have I been living as if God only has “spare change” for me? Name it.
• What “five loaves and two fish” do I need to place in Jesus’ hands today?
• Who in my life has modeled abundance through faith and daily obedience, and what can I learn from their example?

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Prayer

Jesus, thank You that You are not a God of scraps but of overflow. I bring You my small offerings — my trust, my time, my needs, my open hands. Bless them, break what needs breaking, and multiply what I cannot. Thank You for lives like my husband’s Aunt, whose years testify of Your faithfulness and Your abundance. For her music, her art, her faith, and her love that continues to ripple through generations, I give You praise. Teach my heart to expect Your presence, to look for Your baskets of “after,” and to rest in the truth that Your love never runs out. Meet me in the quiet and in the noise, on sun porches and in storm winds, and make my life a table where others can taste and see Your goodness. Amen.

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A Gentle Closing

If you’ve been walking through a thin season, friend, take heart. Sit down on the grass. Hand Him what you have. Watch what He does with it. And remember, His abundance is written not only in miracles but also in the steady faith of those who live their lives for Him.

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With devotion from my quiet corner,
Marie

(When you pray this for yourself, feel free to make it your own — and sign your own name at the end as a reminder that God’s promises are personal to you.)