He had less than a week left. Less than a week to live. Oh how I miss him. How I long to talk to him; to hear his deep, rich voice. What about you: if you had less than a week left? Do you know you're loved? Beyond anything you could ask or imagine. Do you live with purpose and passion? Or has something stolen that passion? He was passionate. He lived life. He grabbed hold of each event with gusto. He lived with an abandon that teenagers live. Never thinking he had a date with eternity in a week. He was making plans. Promises to a ... View Post
Digging Deep; Just Not In Soil
The sun peaks through the clouds. It is still a little cool. We women gather on the farmhouse lawn. Steam rises from mugs of hot coffee and tea. We dig deep into the Word. Wrestling with how to live as Christ. Verse by verse we unpack the wisdom. There is openness and sharing. Women in community. I gaze around the group. One I mentored. Now married with a young child. Another visiting from out of state. Friends I know well. Some, the friendship, just unfolding. Women. Seeking to live differently. A ... View Post
There Is Always Choice
The slide show plays. Each picture a memory of the week gone by. The gospel shared. Summer Bible Camp. Not Vacation Bible School anymore. Somehow "school" has a negative connotation. Kids in other countries look for sponsors and live to go to school. But here in America school brings negative thoughts. But that is another post. The slide show plays. I have not helped at all this week. There were so many pieces to the week, there was no way I could be there. I watch each picture. The sadness descends like ... View Post
What Bales, Prayer and Death Have Taught Me
The bales keep coming. Load after load. 11 bales a wagon load. Winter's feed. Wrapped in a cocoon. Prepared for winter. These bales. I wrote on these bales last year. Prayers. Praise. I love you Elijah. Bales I prayed over. Hopes for a plentiful winter. Hopes for a smoother road. A different pace from the walk of the death of my mom, flooding and bumpy financial issues. That's not what happened. 3 days later, my son fell asleep at the wheel of our family car and met Jesus. 3 months later, ... View Post
We, The People
This road is hard. We, the people, meant for Grace for all time. Thrown through the ravages of sin and justified and sanctified by the blood. We, the people, destined for all that is holy, yet muck through the waters until He returns. The step of some days harder than others. Weeping and flailing as if there were no anchor. The whole time being held. We, the people. Each so different. Each so needy. Each so loved. The sun beats down. The warmth fills the cold spaces. It is a choice to breathe in ... View Post
Never Forget; Remember
It's been a year. A since the waters rose. Since the rains came and destruction ensued. It's been a year since a sweet young teacher was stranded and sought solace in our home. Where 2 teen age boys lived. And were thrilled to be in her presence. It's been a year since the break of day brought the sights of the force of rushing water. A year since we were hemmed in and ran out of toilet paper. A year since our friends were here for a month, celebrating all that spring recitals, High School graduation and concerts had to offer. A year. The road is repaired. More river spills that year washed ... View Post
