In the Tiptoe Moments

I see the point of a soft pink triangle that cuts between two pine trees to the southeast, and a sparrow lands on a bare branch just outside my window. I peel back the Target-bought shabby chic quilt, the white one striped with pink roses, and slide from between crisp white sheets, careful to not disturb the cat curled next to me. I slip on my fluffy white robe, pocket the Droid, and creep downstairs in search of slippers. I love the tiptoe moments of the morning. To be continued over at BibleDude.net today. Won’t you tiptoe...

31 Days on Coming to Grips with My Age ~ Day 3: A Lesson from the Leaves

God draped our woods with Jacob’s coat while I soul stripped on the edge of the Frio. The countryside explodes with color. “Aren’t the trees just beautiful? I can’t get over how they popped while I was in Texas.” Grace agrees. “But you know they’re dying, right? The colors mean they’re dying.” We’ve pulled into the garage, and I shut off the Journey, ponder this. “You’re right.” I pause and look at her. “Then I guess there’s beauty in dying.” She shrugs. “You didn’t know that?” Yet I know that’s not entirely true. There can be a kind of beauty, especially for those of us who know that death is not really death. But even so, death often strikes...