A socially distant Mother’s Day? While on a recent video meeting, I found myself reminiscing with one of my sons about the Mother’s Day gardens we sowed, games we played, and the stories we shared.
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Strapping in with other thrill-seekers and launching to soaring heights, the entire park visible from the top. I braced myself for the free fall and gripped the sidebar until my knuckles turned white. But when
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A time for everything? We’re told these are uncertain times. What about yesterday, last year, or twenty years from now? Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Isn’t any time an uncertain time? As we pray
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Despite his actions, I did what I always do. Driving to the school where I teach takes about ten minutes. One morning as I puttered along, I noticed a snazzy Range Rover behind me. It
Read moreNow that we are all (or almost all) hunkered down to protect ourselves and each other from the pandemic, let’s rethink our relationships. And what do our relationships there look like? Most of our personal
Read more“The voice of the Spirit is as gentle as a zephyr, so gentle that unless you are living in perfect communion with God, you never hear it. The checks of the Spirit come in the most extraordinary gentle way, and if you are not sensitive enough to detect His voice you will quench it, and your personal spiritual life will be impaired. His checks always come as a still small voice, so small that no one but the disciple notices them.” ~ Oswald Chambers
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Perfect Father My dad had a way of warming hearts with his smile. If he were here today, my twenty-one-year-old son might say, “Pop’s authentic,” but, Noah never met him. My husband and three older
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A love of a lifetime… I remember the vow my husband and I made to love each other until, when old and gray, death would part us. It wasn’t something I’d ever dwell on. Death
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by Norma Gail Wounds Deep wounds heal slowly. I plunged my gloved hands into the suppurating wound and attempted to distract my patient from the pain, embarrassment, and agony of amputation. Never again would his
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Stories by the fireside… We didn’t have a fireplace in our New York City apartment, although my dad continued his fireside storytelling tradition throughout the winter months—minus the crackling fire of course. I remember many
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