|
|||||
|
A fool says, “I can’t;” a wise man says, “I’ll try.” ~Charles Spurgeon Dave Vander Laan posted this as a Facebook status yesterday. I know it’s true. But it made me laugh. Because my mother would have so disagreed. In fact, saying “I’ll try” was not a wise thing to say to her. At. All. It stemmed from an adventure she . . . → Read More: A Trying Adventure
I’ve been thinking about this seed of Yahweh planted in the cave of a woman-child. Confined and nurtured in soft dark womb, nourished with her every heartbeat. And how cells of cell multiplied until he fluttered light. Then stretched and rose like yeast bread in her warm belly. Until her body could no longer contain him. How the walls . . . → Read More: Seed of Yahweh
I came home for a couple days of grandgirl duty because my husband had to go out of town. He didn’t greet me, and I didn’t see him under the dining room table. I knew right away. He jumped down from the dresser and trotted out when I opened the door. I knew it had been a while. A . . . → Read More: Popping the Cork
I realized it just this morning. She was my age. She was also a nurse. Instrumental, I understand, in birthing this place. She was admitted the same day we were, to the room next door to ours. She’d done battle for 18 years. A bone marrow donor stood ready, but she could not bounce back from her latest round of . . . → Read More: Gifted in Grief
Now I lay me down to sleep I pray the Lord my soul to keep If I should die before I wake I pray the Lord my soul to take. I remember. I’d pray this little prayer every night in my head in my little bed in the little (I mean . . . → Read More: If I Should Die So look in the mirror and pray for the grace
When I wake up this morning, my bedroom is still pink. It’s been pink now for nine years plus. Every square inch of this house needs to be . . . → Read More: I Am His Poem
“I can’t,” I snapped. She faded back into the living room and left me alone with my pots and oils. And chopsticks. Newly married and still giddy from San Francisco and Chinatown, I planned my first dinner party from scratch–sweet and sour chicken, homemade egg rolls, and fried apple (?) somethings (I think) that kept me in . . . → Read More: Seasons of Serving and the Nature of Love
“There’s a rabbit on the driveway.” I glanced out the window. Sure enough. A rabbit sat in the gravel at the edge of the driveway apron. I talked to it through the open window. It stopped nosing in the stone for a moment and looked my way, but was not moved.
I marveled at how the sun, low . . . → Read More: Through and Through Life: Gleaning in the Stones Faith Barista Bonnie asks us to write about “Finding the One.” So today I offer up this reworked repost as a shot of encouragement to remind us that God is at work in our lives even when we’re not looking or asking.
April 1971. Only eighteen months into my nursing career and already burned out in . . . → Read More: And So It Begins What if I said, “Stop praying?” What if I told you to stop talking at God for a while, but instead to take a long, hard look at Him before you speak another word? Solomon warned us not to rush into God’s presence with words. ~Francis Chan in Crazy Love, p. 25 . . . → Read More: Through and Through Life: Stop Praying? |
  Be a deep see diver. Deep See Diving    
    
 |
||||
|
Copyright © 2012 Sandra Heska King - All Rights Reserved |
|||||
American Christian
Fiction Writers
Follow Me!