However, standing beside his wife, was an older gentleman. He had the look of a lifelong worker. Perhaps a truck driver, mechanic, or one of the many retired orchardists who fill our rural community. Simple clothes, shirt untucked, Gnarled hands raised to heaven as he listened to the clear voices of the girls worshiping on the stage.
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Someone dumped a half-grown kitten on the mountain meadow where we live.
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The amazing thing about wildflowers is that they come amidst all of the ugly forest rubble of early spring.
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The more this happens, the more I wonder if perhaps this twenty-two year experiment was in fact a giant waste of time.
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Scruff ran out to the generator shed to see what had happened. He was met by a cloud of toxic fumes.
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Christ Himself must have called you here, like he called me (kicking and screaming) and my husband (blissfully naïve), otherwise you would not have chosen such exquisite joy and pain.
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There is beauty here, maybe the lighting isn’t quite right to see it now, but soon some slight thing will change and God’s glory will come shining through.
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So, are we called to a life of insanity? Yes, yes we are. That’s OK, because we are right where God wants us.
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I’d never realized how sobering it is to hold the pile of papers that represents the wishes of your lost loved one.
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As our first snowstorm darkened the sky and sent us scrambling to put another log on the fire, I was reminded of the only time I was lost outside.
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