Nottingham - a little faith, Episode 2: Mauve, Tori

 

Tori Rae Davis had dreams of being a great writer like her mother Helena or a fabulous baker like her sister Mauve. She even wished she could be a great speaker and servant like her brother Marcus or her favorite deacon, Liam Walsh. It was easy to see all their talents and successes. But even though her life had not been a blown up Easy Bake Oven (yes, she still had nightmares about that) she rarely saw her own strengths or even applauded her simple wins in life.

She had recently gotten off of the phone with Ramsey Redcliffe, her mother's literary agent. Her mother's legacy of writing spanned decades and she was an internationally known author. But few people in Willow Creek knew of her mother's celebrity status. Ramsey had revealed that yet another ghostwriter had up and quit. Tori didn't have the heart to tell Mauve or Marcus about the development. The author who had bailed was focusing on their mother's Nottingham-era Regency book series. She was tempted to ask Huck Henderson, the man her mom used to embody many of her Regency gentlemen if he had a writing genie inside of him. That would definitely solve a slew of her problems. 

The teen series was still going strong and the young gal who wrote them was such a fun and creative spirit. The Davis clan had decided to add her name on the books along with their mother's. Marcus lived close to Blair Carmichael and Tori had a feeling there was a little more between them than her or Mauve knew.

Ramsey was not her biggest fan, he liked reminding her of her failures in life over the past few years as if it was his job to be her "lifestyles of the grief stricken and miserable" corrispondant. She had a hard time putting Jace Quinn in the past because Ramsey wouldn't stop bringing up his latest exploits, as if she really wanted to know. And truly a secret part of her would always yearn for what might have been.

She sat across from her sister Mauve while on her break at the uber popular Bakewell's Bakery owned by her good friend Hannah. Mauve looked as vibrant and perky as ever with her day glow pink bandana holding back her course curly dark hair. She always reminded Tori of Rosie the Riviter. Mauve might have been a bit on the chunky side, like Tori herself, but Mauve had this inner glow and vibrant smile that just set her apart from the lesser beings around her. She could definitely be a model.

Mauve was almost giddy was she pushed a new chocolate muffin creation across the table. It practically sparkled. Tori could tell it was going to be amazing.

"I made this for you," she said. "Sugar free and chocolate. I know work at the Rec Center has been pulling you down lately." Her boss Judd Hill and his second in command Joanie Wright hadn't been the Wonder Twins after the Foundation decided to hammer them with a bunch of restrictions and crazy requests. It had been a bit of a mad house there as of late.

"Thanks, sis." Tori accepted the muffin with a smile. She was truly blessed and she wished she was able to give back as much as she received from her beautiful family and friends. One of her prayers was to have the ability to smile again and not make it feel like she was such a big phoney attempting to be grateful. 

She nibbled at the edge of the muffin. She was feeling queazy about a new program they were starting at the Rec Center making her hours a lot later than she had hoped for. "With this new schedule I'm worried about my blood sugar readings and remembering to take my medication at night. I've already decided to buy one of those pill containers to track my usage. God, that makes me feel old. My Rec job has my mind so chaotic. I've barely set foot in the AKA Art Cafe lately. I think Flo and Hannah sent out a missing person's report on me." She took a big bite of the muffin and chewed thoughtfully as Mauve just listened. She was good at that too.

"And my own personal sketchbook? Forget about it. My creativity is fine but my mind is half in panic mode and half in exhausted mode. I think I was less stressed when my job was a constant deadline. At least I knew what to expect. I almost feel like half the panic isn't even mine and am just picking it up from everyone else."

"I saw on social media you designed a July calendar," Mauve said.

Tori Rae laughed. "And a June one, but I didn't post it. I guess I needed to pretend I had some sort of control over my schedule. Church hasn't been comforting my soul like it used to. After mom and dad died, and all that nonsense with Jace." Tori sighed. "I felt like my life didn't want to deal with what I wanted *in* my life. And the most ironic thing was, Jace alienated me from church, but it was his sermons that got me to see God in a whole new way. And for that, I will be forever grateful to him, even if we never speak to one another again."

"We've all felt it," Mauve said. "Even Junie made this card for you." She passed the colorful creation her daughter had made to Tori Rae who wiped the last muffin crumb from her lips. It was a drawing of a slug on a mushroom saying, "It's okay to slow down."

The wisdom of a child.

Tori smiled. "Thank her for me. It's advice I definitely need to take."

Tori Rae, a damsel in not so much distress. A mixed up fairytale

 

Once upon a time, not so long ago but certainly not quite today, in a kingdom where the gingerbread houses had Wi-Fi and the wolves wore spectacles, lived a young woman named Tori Rae. Tori Rae wasn't your typical damsel in distress; she was more of a damsel in "distressingly efficient problem-solving mode."

One sunny Tuesday, Tori Rae received a rather glitter-bomb-covered invitation. It wasn't to a royal ball, but to a "Grand Forest Bake-Off and Potion Mixer" hosted by none other than Goldilocks herself, who had since become a rather demanding event planner. The problem? Tori Rae's prize-winning entry, a batch of "Enchanted Everlasting Cupcakes" (rumored to grant the eater eternal good hair days), had been stolen!

Her first clue was a single, sparkling glass slipper left near her kitchen window. "Classic," Tori Rae muttered, rolling her eyes. "Someone's clearly trying to frame Cinderella."

Determined to retrieve her cupcakes, Tori Rae grabbed her trusty, multi-tool-equipped red hooded cloak (a gift from her Grandma, who was surprisingly tech-savvy for someone living in a cottage in the woods). As she ventured into the Whispering Woods, she stumbled upon a cottage made entirely of candy. A peculiar sight, even for these mixed-up lands. The door was ajar, and inside, three unusually large, but surprisingly polite, bears were arguing over porridge temperatures.

"Excuse me," Tori Rae piped up, her voice clear and unafraid. "Have any of you seen a rogue princess with a penchant for footwear, or perhaps a trail of enchanted cupcakes?"

Papa Bear, who had a surprising fondness for modern jazz, merely grumbled about someone having eaten hisextra-spicy porridge. Mama Bear, however, sniffed the air. "I do smell something vaguely sweet and magically enhanced, but it led towards the Spinning Wheel Tower."

"The Spinning Wheel Tower?" Tori Rae frowned. "But that's where Rapunzel lives, and she's usually too busy detangling her hair to get involved in cupcake larceny."

Undeterred, Tori Rae followed the faint scent of sugar and magic. As she approached the tower, she didn't find a maiden with impossibly long braids, but instead, a rather flustered Prince Charming, tangled in what appeared to be an industrial-sized spool of golden thread.

"Oh, thank goodness!" he exclaimed, spotting Tori Rae. "I was trying to help Little Red Riding Hood spin straw into gold for a special delivery, but I seem to have gotten myself into a bit of a knot. And also, I think Rumpelstiltskin has been trying to hack into my royal dating app."

Tori Rae, ever practical, quickly untangled the bewildered prince. "Never mind that, have you seen my cupcakes or a suspiciously well-dressed, glass-slipper-wearing princess?"

Prince Charming blinked. "Why, yes! Cinderella was just here, looking for a place to hide something. She mentioned she needed to 'diversify her portfolio' and hinted at a new venture in enchanted baked goods. She ran off with a very large basket towards the highest hill – said something about a beanstalk being a shortcut."

Tori Rae sighed. "A beanstalk. Of course."

She thanked the prince, grabbed a convenient, albeit slightly oversized, magic bean from a dropped satchel, and planted it. Within seconds, a colossal stalk spiraled towards the clouds. With a determined grin, Tori Rae began to climb.

At the very top, nestled amongst the fluffy clouds, was not a giant's castle, but a surprisingly chic penthouse apartment. And there, in the living room, surrounded by her stolen Enchanted Everlasting Cupcakes, sat Cinderella. She wasn't wearing a ballgown, but a sharp business suit, meticulously counting her new baked empire.

"Tori Rae!" Cinderella exclaimed, dropping a cupcake. "I can explain! The market for glass slippers has plummeted, and I needed a new, scalable business model. Your cupcakes are revolutionary!"

Before Tori Rae could decide whether to demand justice or a business partnership, a tiny, furious voice piped up from behind a teacup. "And I was going to use those to lure a prince into a long-term commitment!" It was Thumbelina, surprisingly enraged, clutching a miniature, golden fishing rod.

Tori Rae merely shook her head. "You know what? Keep them, Cinderella. But next time, just ask. And Thumbelina, there are better ways to find love than enchanted baked goods."

With her moral compass realigned and a new understanding of the cutthroat fairy tale economy, Tori Rae carefully descended the beanstalk. She decided to go home, make herself a normal, non-magical cup of tea, and perhaps start a new business selling emergency untangling kits for princes. After all, in a mixed-up fairy tale world, a little practicality goes a long way.

Nottingham - a little faith - Tori Rae, Honey and Liam

 

Faith woke up in a sweat, sitting straight up in bed. The clock read 3:33. She sighed and laid back down. This dream had been haunting her lately. A dream of knights and round tables and this aching sense of betrayal. It was really getting to her. The man at the center of her dream in a way resembled Noah but time had not been good to that man's skin or disposition. Each time she saw Noah as she ran errands in town, this errant king's face hit her heart as if she had been personally slighted. And frankly, it was really getting on her nerves. Sometimes this supposed psychic gift was more of a silent curse.

Tori Rae Davis crumpled up the notebook page and threw it across the room. Honey Barnes owner of Honey Bee's Book Nook observed her from across the bookstore. It was the seventh paper Tori had discarded in the last hour. There was definitely something bothering the AKA Art Cafe aficionado. 

Honey picked up and read the last paper she tossed out. It was Tori's Nottingham story. It had been awhile since Tori had wanted to dabble in that world again. Honey wondered why she was back at it. That story had really hurt her heart after Jace Quinn left and then Liam Walsh came forward to take the temporary leader position at the church.

As she read the paragraph, Honey realized Tori was having dreams again. In a way, that was awesome. Her grief after Henry's death had set her back. Not just in her walk with God but her walk as a creative soul, worship singer and self appointed God girl. She had basically lost so much of what made Tori Tori. She had been in a season of healing not just her body but her mind and spirit as well. She had questioned her whole existence when Jace kicked her out of the church. Thank God her brother Marcus had been around to pick up the pieces. His military experience had helped him deal with the loss of his dad, but Tori's life had been shattered that day with Jace's one vengeful act.

The newly called minister Ben Eden wouldn't know how to deal with Tori's inner wounds, but Liam Walsh would definitely have words of wisdom for his old friend. Honey signaled to Huck Henderson that she was taking a break and she headed over to the police station to see if Liam might have a few minutes to chit chat.

Nottingham: Seeking Sanctuary revisited Chapter 3

**Scene: “An Unopened Chapter”**  

Faith balanced a sturdy canvas tote in one arm, the waxed paper from a half-eaten scone still tucked beneath the strap. Honey had scribbled a note on top of the book order invoice: *“He looks tired. Maybe tuck in some sunshine while you're there?”*

She knocked lightly on the door of the church office, almost hoping no one would answer. But Ben opened it almost immediately, sleeves rolled to the elbows, glasses perched low on his nose.

“Faith,” he said, clearly surprised but not unfriendly. “I didn’t know you were on delivery duty now.”

She smiled, trying not to fidget. “It was either me or Huck, and he said his vibe was more Dickensian than pastoral.”

Ben chuckled and stepped aside, motioning her in.

She set the books gently on the desk and was about to make her exit when something caught her eye—a framed photo of two boys, maybe ten and twelve, with matching crooked grins. Beside it, a child’s watercolor of an angel and the words *“Hope lives here.”*

Ben followed her gaze. His shoulders softened.

“My sister passed away,” he said. “Suddenly. I’ve been caring for her boys while their dad gets his feet back under him.”

Faith looked up slowly. “That’s why you weren’t at service last week.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t tell anyone. I guess I didn’t want to make a sermon out of my grief.”

There was a pause. The kind that doesn’t ache, but *listens*.

Then Faith said, barely above a whisper, “You probably could have. And I think... I would have stayed to hear it.”

He looked at her then—really looked.

“You’re welcome to stay anytime, Faith. In the music. In the mess. In all of it.”

---

Ben moved to pour a second mug of coffee, gesturing for Faith to sit if she wanted to stay. She hesitated, then lowered herself onto the chair opposite his desk, journal still cradled in her hand like a shield she hadn’t decided to lower yet.

The steam between them curled like a bridge.

> “What was she like?” Faith asked quietly, nodding toward the boys' photo.

Ben smiled, though it looked like it had to pass through a veil of grief first.  

> “Fierce. Thoughtful. Could make a room laugh or cry with the same story. Her name was Grace.”

Faith traced the rim of her mug. “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I didn’t really… let myself know much of anyone after—” She stopped.

He didn’t push. Just waited.

> “After Noah,” she finished. “I thought I could worship God and still keep walls around the people.”

Ben nodded slowly.  

> “Makes sense. People burn us in sacred places, and suddenly it’s easier to treat everyone like strangers with kind faces.”

Faith blinked, not expecting understanding to sound so casual. So true.

> “But you stayed,” she said, watching him. “After what happened. After how fractured everything felt here. Why?”

Ben leaned back slightly, fingers laced around his mug like it steadied more than the coffee inside.

> “Because I believe in church as a *place of becoming*, not of arriving,” he said. “And I think people are craving that again. Not perfection. Not showmanship. Just honesty. Healing. Community that tells the truth and sings anyway.”

He let the words land.

> “I want this place to be safe again,” he continued. “For the ones who stayed too quiet for too long. For the ones who left because it stopped sounding like grace. And for the ones—like you—who have something sacred still simmering beneath the surface.”

Faith looked down. Then up. Eyes glistening, but not from sorrow.

> “I used to think that if I sang again, it would mean I’d forgiven too easily. That I’d forgotten.”

Ben shook his head.  

> “Maybe it means you *remembered*—who you are, who He is, and what the music means when it’s not wrapped in pain.”

She exhaled, then opened her journal. Flipped to the page with the lyrics from *So Close.*  

> “I don’t know if I’m ready to stand on a stage again.”

He smiled gently.  

> “Start by standing in the room. That’s more than enough.”

---

Nottingham: Seeking Sanctuary revisited, chapter two

 

**Sunday Message: "Still Worth Singing"**  

*Sanctuary of Seeking, Morning Service*

Dek Fox steps to the mic, tuning his acoustic quietly, eyes scanning the faces before him. He offers a crooked smile—nervous, maybe—but steady. The sanctuary is hushed. Some are still reeling from Ben’s heartfelt message the week before. Dek feels it too. But today is different.

> “Last week… Ben spoke with courage. About grief. About silence. And about how it shapes us.  

> I couldn’t stop thinking about what we do *after* the silence.  

> What happens after the wound…  

> after the goodbye…  

> after the moment when we thought we’d never sing again.”

He strums a soft chord—just a heartbeat of melody—and lets it fade.

> “There’s this line in Psalm 40 that always grips me: *‘He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.’*  

> That new song? It doesn’t come from talent. Or timing. Or who someone else chose.  

> It comes from *rescue*. From survival. From having stood on the edge and choosing to stand anyway.”

He pauses, breath catching just slightly.

> “Maybe someone here today needs to hear this:  

> Your voice isn’t forgotten.  

> Your worth isn’t lost.  

> And the God who wrote your melody still believes you’re *so close* to stepping back into it.”

He looks toward the worship team setup, and his eyes land—just briefly—on Faith in the back row. He doesn’t call her out. But his voice softens.

> “Sometimes the person who taught us to sing… also taught us to stop.  

> But Heaven doesn’t audition. Grace doesn’t require permission.  

> If you still feel the music stirring in you, even through the ache…  

> Then maybe it’s time to let the song rise again.”

---

**Scene: “Scones and Sanctuary”  

Location: Honey Bee’s Book Nook – Morning sun catching in the stained-glass windows, mismatched mugs steaming, the air warm with the scent of lemon glaze and vanilla.**

Faith sat cross-legged in the corner booth, her journal half-open and a bite of Kit Carlyle’s famous lemon-blueberry scone paused halfway to her mouth. The worn leather spine of her Bible rested beside her, like a trusted friend who didn’t mind long silences.

Honey swayed in from the counter, her beaded earrings catching the light. She wore a lavender wrap today and smelled faintly of patchouli and apricots. She slid into the booth beside Faith, her kaleidoscope mug in hand.

> “You’ve got that ‘spirit just got stirred’ look,” Honey said with a smile. “Was it something Dek said or something you finally let yourself hear?”

Across from them, Huck Hutchinson reclined like a period drama gentleman misplaced in modern times. His suspenders were burgundy. His teacup was floral. His expression was laced with amusement.

Faith exhaled slowly, tapping her pen against the margins of her journal.

> “It was Dek. Or maybe… it was God through Dek. He said, ‘Heaven doesn’t audition. Grace doesn’t require permission.’ And I just—” Her voice caught. “I used to sing with everything in me. And now I… don’t. I can’t.”

Honey reached across the table, placed her hand gently over Faith’s.

> “Sweet one, the song never left you. It just went quiet while your heart healed.”

Huck nodded, swirling his tea in slow circles. “I once read a poem that said silence isn’t the absence of sound—it’s where music waits to be remembered.”

Faith’s eyes welled unexpectedly. “I just needed someone to choose me. To say I was still worth hearing.”

Honey leaned back, that twinkle in her eye. “Who says you need *anyone* to choose you? What if you’re the one holding the sheet music now?”

There was a beat of quiet, like the universe taking a sip of its own coffee.

Then Honey added, “Besides, the acoustics in here? Divine. If you happen to hum a few lines from ‘So Close,’ I doubt anyone’s gonna mind.”

Faith smiled, the first real one all morning. Maybe today wasn’t about auditions or stage lights. Maybe it was about remembering she had a voice at all.

---

**Scene: “The Song That Found Her”  

Location: Honey Bee’s Book Nook, late morning—sunlight slanting through ivy-draped windows, cinnamon steam curling from mugs, a quiet lull in the shop’s hum.**

Faith hums softly at first. Just a thread of melody. *So Close,* the song that once felt stolen, now trembling from her lips in a moment of spontaneous remembering. Huck picks up the harmony like he’s been waiting for it all along, voice warm and wistful, drawing the notes into a gentle dance.

Honey doesn’t speak—just sways slightly, hands cradled around her mug as though holding a sacred thing.

Then the bell above the shop door jingles.

Dek steps in, hesitating when he spots them. He almost turns away, caught in the threshold. But something keeps his feet rooted, some unspoken stirring that pushes him forward.

Faith sees him.

Their eyes meet.

And without any grand apology or explanation, Dek joins the song. His voice isn’t perfect—it cracks around the edges—but it’s sincere. It wraps around the ache between them and lets it breathe.

The lyrics rise, not as performance, but as prayer.

**“We’re so close…  

To reaching that famous happy end…”**

Faith’s voice steadies. Stronger now. Not because she was chosen, but because she chose *herself.*

They finish the chorus in quiet harmony, voices trailing into silence.

Dek looks at her—not like a worship leader, not like a man unsure of what to say—but like someone who sees her again.

> “You still carry the sound, Faith,” he says softly. “I’m sorry I forgot to listen.”

Faith presses her palm to her chest, where the music still echoes. “I just needed space to remember it was mine.”

---

Nottingham: Seeking Sanctuary - Revisited - Chapter One

 

**Chapter One: “The Mirror That Spoke”**

Faith sat curled on the floor of the chapel -- her chapel now, though the echoes of the past still hung like incense in the rafters. Candles flickered half-heartedly beside her, their glow swallowed by the pre-dawn haze leaking through stained glass. She wasn’t praying so much as unraveling. The journal in her lap lay open, words halted mid-sentence, as if even her ink was holding its breath.

She whispered into the silence:  

“God, if You’re still writing this story, I feel like I lost the plot.”

Her eyelids grew heavy. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe surrender. The chapel blurred, and the hush pulled her downward like a velvet tide.

---

She stood now in a wide, endless field under a sky the color of parchment. No sun. No shadow. Just stillness. Before her rose a mirror—weathered at the edges, rimmed in ivy, as tall as the oaks that weren’t there.

In its glass, she expected her reflection. Instead, she saw **him**—Noah. Clothed in old sermons and polished smiles. But the image shimmered and peeled away like flaking paint. In his place stood a blank page, glowing with quiet promise.

Behind her, a presence stirred—not loud, not visible. Just *there*. Like peace had learned to breathe.

And then, softly, undeniably:  

**“This is your story. Not his.”**

The words didn’t echo. They soaked in.  

**“You were never meant to live in someone else’s script. Your voice carries My breath. Your journey honors Me.”**

Faith turned back to the mirror. This time, her own reflection stood tall. A little cracked around the edges, yes—but fierce with fire and resilience. The blank page behind her shimmered again, and she saw it fill—not with rules or rebukes, but with *possibility.*

She reached out.

---

She jolted awake with her palm still outstretched. The candle beside her had burned low, wax pooling like a tear on the floor.

But something in her had shifted.

She wasn’t here to prove she belonged in someone else’s sanctuary.  

She *was* the sanctuary—rebuilt in grace, scrawled with mercy, brimming with truth.

How to weave God into Meant to Be

 That's a wonderful theme to weave into your "Meant to Be" story, mirroring the VBS concept! Here are some ways you can show God's presence in the lives of Ethan, Kevin, and Faith, drawing inspiration from Joshua 1:9 ("Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your¹ God will be with you wherever you go."):

Showing God's Presence in Ethan's Life:

• Through His Music Ministry: Show how Ethan's musical talents at North Point Church become a source of comfort and connection for others. Perhaps a specific song he plays resonates deeply with someone struggling, or his music creates an atmosphere of peace and reflection during a difficult time. This can illustrate God working through his gifts.
• In Moments of Doubt: When Ethan's cynicism surfaces, show him experiencing a subtle nudge of encouragement or a timely word from someone that shifts his perspective. This could be a quiet moment of clarity during prayer or a feeling of peace that defies his logical doubts.
• His Ability to Adapt and Troubleshoot: Connect Ethan's "chameleon" skills to a sense of God's guidance in navigating unexpected situations. Perhaps his quick thinking helps resolve a conflict at the church or offers a solution to a problem with the Christmas Mission, subtly showing God using his unique abilities.
• Through Unexpected Connections: Ethan might connect with someone at the church or in the community who offers him unexpected support or wisdom, someone who seems to appear at just the right time. This could be portrayed as God's hand at work in his relationships.

Showing God's Presence in Kevin/Martin's Life:

• His Radio Ministry: Illustrate how his morning show on the Christian radio station touches listeners' lives. Perhaps he receives heartfelt calls or messages about how his words or music choices provided comfort or encouragement during their day. This shows God using his voice in a new way.
• His Growing Empathy and Understanding: Show how Kevin's past experiences as a spy allow him to connect with Faith's feelings of displacement and Noah's quiet remorse. This growing empathy can be portrayed as God softening his heart and broadening his understanding of others.
• Moments of Inner Peace: Despite the chaos of the situation, Kevin might experience moments of unexpected calm or clarity, a sense that he's on the right path even when things are uncertain. This inner peace can be attributed to God's presence.
• Unexpected Opportunities for Help: Kevin might find himself in situations where his unique skills from his past life unexpectedly come in handy in a positive way, perhaps helping someone in the community or navigating a tricky situation related to the Christmas Mission. This could be seen as God repurposing his past for good.

Showing God's Presence in Faith/Tori Rae's Life:

• Her Artistic Expression: Show how Faith's art becomes a way for her to process her emotions and connect with others on a deeper level. Perhaps a particular piece she creates resonates with someone else's pain or offers a message of hope. This can illustrate God speaking through her creativity.
• Her Connection to Compass Point Church: The pull she feels towards Compass Point and the potential for reconciliation with Noah can be portrayed as God gently guiding her towards healing and forgiveness.
• Moments of Strength and Resilience: Despite her disappointment and past hurt, show Faith exhibiting inner strength and a determination to find meaning and purpose. This resilience can be attributed to God's sustaining grace.
• Unexpected Encouragement: Faith might receive a timely word of encouragement from a friend, a member of Compass Point, or even a seemingly random encounter that lifts her spirits and reminds her that she's not alone.

Weaving it Together:

• Shared Experiences: You can show God's presence through moments where the siblings connect and support each other, recognizing a sense of divine timing or encouragement in their interactions.
• Contrasting with Nia: By showing the self-serving nature of Nia's actions, you can highlight the genuine and other-centered ways in which God works through Ethan, Kevin, and Faith.
• Subtle Clues: God's presence doesn't always have to be dramatic. It can be shown through subtle feelings, unexpected opportunities, and the quiet strength the characters exhibit.
• Dialogue and Reflection: Allow the characters to reflect on their experiences and acknowledge moments where they felt God's leading or comfort.

Remember to weave these instances naturally into the narrative. Show, don't just tell, the reader that God is with them. By focusing on their internal experiences, their interactions with others, and the outcomes of their actions, you can effectively illustrate God's abiding presence in their lives, echoing the powerful message of Joshua 1:9.