I was eight. I was sick. It was severe. I had all the classic symptoms. Distress, sadness, anxiety, and most prominently the shedding of endless tears. It went on day after day after day. The diagnosis? Homesickness. It was my first time to attend summer camp and I was not enjoying it at all. Neither was my big sister who was a camp counselor. I had thoroughly embarrassed her. Continue reading
My feet talk to me.
They do that a lot now that I am getting older.
They chatter about Big Thicket hikes,
jumping volleyball spikes,
and running games of tag.
When I became a young adult and moved away from home, a visit back to spend time with my parents was a favorite trip of mine. The unconditional love I received along with the yummy homemade food made it hard to leave. I yearned to stay longer and would often delay my parting. Continue reading
My body screamed for more sleep. It was pitch black and very quiet. Why did I agree to get up so early on our girls weekend away? Continue reading
I couldn’t wait to get out of the elevator. When the doors finally opened I darted down the hall Continue reading
“I remember the day Beth was born…” My mom pauses, recalling the special day of her first born. “I knew I was in labor, but I did not want to tell anyone.” She continued the story about how they had picked dewberries that day and that her mom was making a cobbler. “I did not tell anyone I was in labor because there was a dewberry cobbler cooking in the oven, and I wasn’t going to go to the hospital before I had a piece!” Continue reading
“How old are you?” a 2nd grader asked me the other day (oblivious to the cultural norm that you don’t ask your female teacher—or any female—her age.) I chuckled to myself, not caring about the cultural norm, and gave him a challenging 2nd grade math problem as an answer to his question. As his brain was processing the numbers, my brain pondered something else…just how old am I, really? Continue reading
“Mmm….just right!” your mouth tells you as you take a sip of the perfect latte, cappuccino, coffee, hot tea or whatever you start your day with. But if there’s too much sugar, not enough cream, or the temperature is too cold or too hot, it can throw a wrench in the works. You mumble & grumble and pour & stir until you get it just right. How do I know? Because I find myself scrupulously preparing my cup of morning brew! Continue reading
I come from an award winning baking family, so when I first came across the BAKER acronym it definitely caught my attention. After reading more about it I decided to commit to the night time BAKER ritual and it has made all the difference in the world.
I’m not talking about making flakier pie crusts; I’m talking about my daily attempts to not be such a flake…in other words, to be a better Christian. Continue reading
Light of Love 