We found the sweetest historic gem halfway between family, and it turned into one of the most meaningful little trips. 🏡✨ The article is live now on Elk River Reflections, and it’s one I already know we’ll be revisiting in October. 🍂 https://open.substack.com/pub/cynthiascribani/p/a-log-cabin

Today’s the day. The title. The cover. The book. 📖 Whispers on the Mountain Path It’s officially available. What started as one book became three… and this is just the beginning 🤍

There’s something no one really talks about… After you finish writing a book— after the edits, the prayers, the late nights, the quiet mornings… there’s a wait. My book is done. It’s copyrighted. It’s been submitted for publishing. And now I’m in a 72-hour window where everything is

Something shifted today… quietly, but in a way I’ll never forget. After years of journaling… writing in the margins of life… holding onto words I never thought I’d share— today, my book was officially copyrighted and submitted for publishing. I’m not ready to share the title just yet…

This morning on the mountain started like so many others. Coffee on the porch. Birds singing in the trees. Quiet time with God before the day begins. I almost grabbed a different mug… but something made me reach for my red Allegheny State Park mug instead. That simple choice brought back

Yesterday it felt like spring had finally arrived here on the mountain. The sun was warm, the air was soft, and it was the kind of day that makes you believe winter is finally behind you. By this morning, the temperature had dropped to 36 degrees. That’s March for you. It made me think

This morning I published a new reflection that became very personal for me. It started with a simple line I read in my devotional: “Repentance isn’t when you cry. Repentance is when you change.” That sentence stayed with me all morning. It made me think about the story of Judah… and about

There’s something I’ve always loved about this day. ➪ March 4th. The only day of the entire year that actually tells us what to do. March forth 🌂 And honestly, early March is the perfect time to hear that reminder. The weather is still gray in many places. ❄️Winter

Yesterday I cried. Today I understood a little more. Nearly 30 years of confusion — and then, compassion. I’m learning that obedience doesn’t always make sense in the moment. But later, you begin to see the pattern. We don’t grow in easy seasons. #WomenOver50 #FaithAndHealing #

This morning, I felt like I got a whole sermon before I even finished my coffee. It started with our Verse of the Day. Then a conversation with my husband. Then something I read. Then my devotional app. Different places. Same message. You don’t grow in comfort. You grow in the wildern

I didn’t wake up one day and decide to write a book. I grew into it — slowly, faithfully, over decades. What began as quiet journaling has become something real: a manuscript, a microphone, and the next step — copyright. I wrote about the long road here, and the surprising realization that

Valentine’s Day doesn’t always look the way we’re told it should. Sometimes it looks quieter. Sometimes it looks like staying home. Sometimes it shows up unexpectedly — warm, playful, and made with care. I shared a new reflection today about love, home, and the little things that end up mea

Some chapters of life take decades to understand. This is one of them. I wasn’t sure I was ready to write this — but the words kept coming anyway. It’s about years of questions, quiet frustration, and that lonely feeling of knowing something wasn’t right with your body, even when others could

Growing up in New York, Groundhog Day always meant one famous groundhog in Pennsylvania. But life looks different on a snowy West Virginia ridge. This morning, our mountains introduced me to a very different kind of “weatherman” — and honestly, I think he has just as much personality as his famo

Four degrees, a frozen mountain, and light that felt almost sacred. I stepped onto our porch and felt as if winter itself was speaking. I wrote about that morning — what I saw, what I felt, and what it quietly reminded me of. If you want to pause with me for a few minutes, you can read it at Elk Ri

February always feels like a pause between what was and what’s coming. A quieter month. A listening month. I shared a new reflection on Substack that grew out of that stillness — about formation, timing, and the way love teaches us long before it asks us to move. If you’re in a gentle, refle

There was a long season when I didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror. I didn’t just see wrinkles or changes—I saw loss. Loss of the body I once had. Loss of confidence. Loss of the woman I thought I was supposed to be. I remember my husband once saying to me, “I wish you could see you

A winter morning on the mountain, a trail of mysterious footprints, and a quiet reminder that creation is always speaking. ❄️ I just shared a new Elk River Reflection on Substack — a gentle story about wonder, wilderness, and the subtle ways God meets us in ordinary moments. If you love cozy

I almost didn’t share this story. Not because it was dramatic — but because it was quiet, complex, and deeply personal. There was a moment when I realized something was wrong — not in my life, but in my hair. As a licensed cosmetologist and educator, I understood the science. What I didn

There are seasons when hunger has nothing to do with food. I wrote about the quiet kind of hunger—the kind that comes from stress, silence, fear, and longing… and the gentle way healing begins. This piece is deeply personal, woven with memory, faith, and the small moments that taught me how t