I learned a lot from my mom. As a girl growing up on the prairie, I learned how to keep a house. Dusting, sweeping, mopping, straightening, organizing and washing dishes

From my place in the back, I’m looking at them. I drink it in, this unlikely assembly. Old and young, black and white, from every walk of life, they’ve come.

And instantly, I felt small. Silly. Invisible. Inferior. And discouraged (to name just a few). Unable to not look, I checked out her posts. I followed her links, visited her

Amen. He’d come to them, had the child, later on in their lives. Had come all unplanned, unexpected. How he’d blessed them, the five, with his sweet, winning ways; loving

Well, that’s not good news. Not if you live within spittin’ distance and your running shoes are shot. It’s not. According to scientists, magma levels in Washington state’s Mount St.

It was the end of another long day. Varied and sundry thumps, bumps and knocks still sounded overhead. Somewhere, Someone’s children were not all settled, and the house was not

Mowing The Three and tending the lawn, duties which fall to my males. Hadn’t there been happy hours in this yard? And hadn’t there been mighty chases? Oh, yes. Yes