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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 This is the day the Lord has made. And I am sad. I’ve misplaced my joy today. I’ve been thinking about my mom again. And I’ve been struggling to see her face. Why can’t I see her face? The box she gave me last summer still sits next to the pine grain bin in the back kitchen. It holds my son’s framed senior . . . → Read More: Surprised by Light Cultivating gratitude and accepting Ann’s Joy Dare in capturing One Thousand Gifts in 2012.
January 1: Three things about myself for which I’m grateful.
I see them looking down from their perches. They’re talking to each other. “There are rumors of black oil, but those cylinders are running on empty.” I scoop seed from the bin and replenish the feeders.
I’m distracted by a flicker on a nearby branch, so I hurry inside and come back with . . . → Read More: Chasing Flickers
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 Feelings fragile like delicate ornaments hung high out of reach by thin threads unseen untouchable precarious until with one small bump they plummet and shatter into ashes that lay and wait for Love to sweep them up. Tomorrow we will bury . . . → Read More: Feelings Fragile
We’ve gone to the family room to Skype them in, the friends from the Netherlands. This technology, it’s new to my dad. My sister tries to describe the room we’re in. The sofa, she says, pulls out into a double bed. And the chairs recline. I’m surprised. They recline? Did they tell us that? They have no . . . → Read More: Puzzling the Pieces and Feeling Like Home
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
We spent a couple of nights in the Days Inn. And then early morning hours in a small hospital waiting room lit by Coke and candy machines. That was the night my mom’s blood pressure was whack. My sister swiped a couple pillows off a stretcher in a hallway and cleaned them with her always-present . . . → Read More: Rest and Refresh |
  Be a deep see diver. Deep See Diving    
    
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Copyright © 2012 Sandra Heska King - All Rights Reserved |
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