God Loves to Bless His Kids

    I was not exactly valedictorian of my junior high school home economics class. At my school, students took home-ec in three nine-week sessions, each taught by a different teacher. The cooking and sewing teachers, Miss Faris and Miss Gummere, seemed old enough to have catered the Last Supper. And in my seventh-grade estimation, they… Continue reading God Loves to Bless His Kids

The Middle Is the Hard Part

           There, on my bathroom vanity, was a perfect illustration of the irony of middle age: a tube of Clearasil lying next to a box of estrogen patches. I asked God, “Could this possibly be fair? Should a woman who is old enough for estrogen patches still have to contend with pimples?”            Ah, yes,… Continue reading The Middle Is the Hard Part

A Piece of God’s Heart

    It was a beautiful, starry, winter night. I was surrounded by a symphony of night noises, amazed that it was so balmy and pleasant outside. The only glitch in this otherwise serene scene was that I was standing in the woods in my pajamas; it was late and I was trying to coax my… Continue reading A Piece of God’s Heart

Rest for the Weary

           I wonder why all the places in this world that promise rest so seldom actually deliver it?            Hotels, for example. Promising blissful rest to weary travelers, hotels, instead, too often deliver hard or squishy beds, demon-possessed air-conditioners that sound like jet engines, loud voices in the hallways, toilets that won’t stop running, and… Continue reading Rest for the Weary

Bring On the Mercy!

           Do you ever find yourself getting frustrated about your lot in life and saying, “Hey – I deserve better than this! Just once I’d like to get what I deserve in life!”            Not me. Not anymore. I don’t want what I deserve. I want grace and mercy. Grace says, “You don’t deserve all… Continue reading Bring On the Mercy!

The Nest is Empty

They were three years old and going to spend the afternoon at friends’ houses. I imagined them getting stung by bees, skinning their knees, running into the street … or maybe just needing me. They were six years old and trotting off to their first experiences with all-day school. I imagined them losing their lunch… Continue reading The Nest is Empty