It came as it often did, the Voice. Quiet, small and still, and it brought relief. In early morning’s dark, I’m driving along. Bound for the Land of Milk and

FacebookTwitterGoogle+DiggPinterestBlogger In the picture, they’re gathered around, arms reaching. Some hands are lifted in supplication, and others are touching a man. In the center. The one in the middle of

Today, I feel led to slip in a quiet word for someone in particular. I don’t know your name. I don’t know where you’re at. But He does, and He

It was ironic, really, the place where it came. In the fall of the year, we’d made our annual trek. It was what we did. It was how we prepared

A crisp, wintry breeze is blowing. Birdsong twinkles sheer joy in the air, and Papa, He’s walking ‘longside. “Thank You,” I say, “for this breeze. For these blessings. Thank You

I’m running along our country road. The fields on either hand lie fallow, slumbering and still, tucked in ‘neath a blanket of white. Birdsong trills unseen, joy-notes like crystals sprinkling

Outside, a winter storm’s moved in. Rain sounds, tink-tink-tink like frozen bullets against the window. The wind, it howls, whips ’round corners, tossing branches, and inside… In my quiet house,

FacebookTwitterGoogle+DiggPinterestBlogger This is not an easy post for me to write. There are a number of reasons for this. Suffice it to say, it’s enough for me to tell you

Standing at the kitchen sink, I look up. The Painter, I see, has slipped by in the night, touching the trees on The Three with a colorful brush. The leaves,

The morning sun that shone on you today as you ran was Me. The clouds that had hovered for days, blocking the light, parted for just a bit at Father’s