For crying out loud. Can’t we go one winter without a visitation? Just one? Living in an old farmhouse, this is as likely as a Kennedy turning Republican or Mr.

We’d picked up a work-out DVD, his father and I, at the recommendation of a friend. Fair-weather runner that I am, I was ready to move it indoors. And with

“Sometimes,” she said it to me only today, “when I start the morning, I say to Him, ‘Lord, I feel like I’m just saying it again.’” We were talking, my

For an entire year, they’d been in my head. Ever since the message had come, they’d huddled there, waiting, expectant in the back of my fertile brain. It was in

This after-school news is delivered in a matter-of-fact, businesslike tone.  I’m listening intently. He continues. “So we did pushups and jumping jacks and we ran. I was the fastest.  I

“It looks like Heaven’s shining down.” That’s what he says, my little boy with eyes of clearest blue. It’s Sunday morning, and we’re on our way to church. I look

In the first set, buildings. Barns, houses, a shed. Twisted steel, crumpled metal and roofs ripped and flung, lying scattered over the farmyard. In one of them, a semi, pulling

Driving along, though in the predawn darkness, for once I’m sitting, quiet. No “good morning, Father” on silent lips. Just–tired. Dis-couraged. A bit down. Physically, not top-of-my-game. Then He speaks.“Talk

It wasn’t a holiday we celebrated, exactly. After all, life here was a succession of their tricks and my treats. It was just how we rolled on The Three. With

Pulling in to start our shift, I’m taking it in. There in the vast parking lot of our church, semis sit in a row, laden with food. Boxes of vitamins,