I stepped hesitantly out of the rented van, gazing uncertainly at the unfamiliar surroundings. The sweltering July air was oppressively humid and it was hard to breathe. The run-down New Orleans neighborhood was dismal and poor. Dirty children roamed the street unsupervised, and lo
The air felt oppressively hot and sticky. A haze of dust and grime engulfed me as I watched dirty, half-naked children scamper around the rows of ramshackle cardboard houses. It was hard to fathom that hundreds of people actually lived in this cramped, filthy neighborhood — one of many “colonias” (poor, make-shift communities) near Juarez, Mexico. Most of the ho
Regret. Shame. Unworthiness. Those were the emotions washing over me as I sat on my bed with my Bible in my lap. I had just read the words, “As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our [sins] from us” (Ps. 103:12). But that verse felt more like wishful thinking than reality.
The scent of tropical sunscreen mingled with the aroma of spicy Mexican food as Eric (my husband, who was then nineteen) sat in the oversized restaurant booth, crunching on tortilla chips and engaging in small talk with his fellow camp counselors. They had just ended a week of being “good spiritual influences” for several hundred kids at a Christian summer camp.
I’ll never forget the moment when I knew — really knew — that Eric Ludy was different from every other guy I’d known. It happened on a warm summer morning in the Rocky Mountains. Our church group had gathered for a two-hour hike through a rambling forest trail. Eric and I fell into step beside each other as branches and leaves crackled under our fee
When I was seven, I wrote these words in my journal: “Someday, I want to become a world-changer!” I wasn’t sure how, exactly, but I knew I wanted to do something significant with my life — something that would help people, something that would make a difference.
A Diary Made PublicKate's StoryKate sipped her latte and glanced around the cozy coffee shop trying to gather her thoughts. Suddenly, she smiled. She’d just thought of the perfect title for her newest blog post.
The movie theater lights grew dim as a quiet expectancy fell over the audience. I relaxed in my plush stadium seat and eagerly awaited the opening credits to come onto the screen. It had been a long, emotionally exhausting week, and I was ready to be distracted from my worries...
It is not the will of your Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish.Matthew 18:14When our first child, Hudson, was almost two, I became pregnant with our second child. Excitedly, we told our son he was going to be a big brother. We announced to friends and family that there was a new little Ludy on the way. We tossed around ideas for baby
The stillness of the African night was shattered by a piercing scream. Fair-skinned, red-haired Mary Slessor hurried out of her hut, a concerned look on her face. As she stood listening, she heard the sound of yelling and drumming growing steadily louder in the distance.