Lori Harris
Lori Harris is a Southern born, Texas-missing girl, who is rearing her six kids in a neighborhood some would call the ‘hood. She and her bi-vocational husband have planted Fellowship Bible Church Rocky Mount on the wrong side of the railroad tracks where poverty runs deep and racism even deeper. She coordinates a city-wide MOPS group, passes out PBJs to the neighborhood kids, and brews coffee just to make the house smell like Jesus. She writes at loriharris.me.
17 posts
Abound in HOPE, Be Full of JOY

Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you believe so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Romans 15:13 For me, family picture day is exactly like physical torture with a side of mental self loathing. It's torture because I have to manhandle children and run my fingers through unruly curls and pry open mouths to brush...

11 2
On Pride, Gluttony and Macaroni au Gratin

I am dating myself. Sounds totally weird, huh? I am dating myself because I have just recently walked straight out of the longest, most grueling wilderness of my life and I am not dead. I am, surprisingly, alive and thriving. I am telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so enable me Jesus. I have a keen awareness of just how narrow the narrow road really is. I’m...

6 2
On Peace and Growing Older

I will be forty years old in less than sixty days. This is not sitting well with me.   I remember crying the year I turned thirty because I had four babies, a husband working two jobs and going to seminary, and an address far away from anyone who could show up and rescue me from my exhaustion. Life was not turning out how I had planned and I was...

4 3
The Thorn and the Gift

I live in a house with a husband who has a thorn the size of Texas protruding from his side and God is choosing to let the thorn only pierce him deep enough so as to allow the thorn to pierce me too. The thorn making us bleed out is making us cry. The grace covering the thorn that is making us both bleed out is making us weep. And...

13 3
On Sacrifice and Greater Love

I knew the conversation was not going well when she crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair, but I was not prepared for how far off the rails the train was going to go. She asked questions trying to poke holes in my every word and I answered each one with as much honesty as the moment would allow. How do you answer with stark honesty when the...

53 6
Count Mercy

After a quick trip to Target for a handful of items, Thad met us at the door just like he always does and I caught the whiff of something I recognized as familiar but not exactly home. I searched his face from the edge of the front porch, trying to read what I already knew. We had a guest. With bags in tow, the girls and I crossed the threshold...

5 2
On Mothering, The Holy Spirit and Making Space

I slip earbuds into my ears to find that she has chosen my music to be the backdrop to which she finds her words. She's in her first ever creative writing class and to everyone's amazement, words ease out of her like a knife passing through soft butter. My daughter is a writer and she's a dang good one. She's so good, in fact, that she recently used her gift...

11 5
Desire And Longing

The story I want to tell you is not mine to write and yet, to write my story is to write hers. We're knit together, she and I, not by blood or by marriage but by Jesus who makes families from nothing but willing hearts. My family is stretching and all the stretching is painful. Placing one twin bed with one beloved quilt at the end of a noisy hall...

9 5
More From Less

Yesterday morning, before a three hour afternoon of summer planning with five people and our nine children and a two hour dinner with thirty people in my house, I made the coffee and helped unload the trailer at the church with more people. I then made a mad dash across the railroad tracks to pick up people for service and upon returning, I had a moment of brazen humanity in...

14 2
Love on the Inside

This morning before the sun woke up and before my first cup of coffee, my running buddy and I were pounding the pavement around the YMCA. Actually, she was pounding the pavement and I was more like trying not to die from shin splints. She's training for a triathlon and I'm training for being skinny and while we run, she talks. I just breathe and cry on the inside. "What...

12 2