The Preacher hits the road

“Goin’ for a ride on my scooter,” the Preacher said. “Here’s the cell in case your sister texts back,” I muttered an absent-minded response and resumed writing. Ninety minutes later, I noticed the phone beside my computer, recalled his comment, and worried he’d been gone so long. At that exact …

When no one answers the door

No answer. Not at the front door, not at the back door. And the place looked a little lifeless. The Preacher frowned. “That’s funny. You told them the right day, didn’t you?” “Of course!” I said. “And I just talked with them earlier today.” We’d hadn’t visited Aunt Alma and …

Back Deck Battle

Out on the deck there rose such a clatter, I leapt from my chair to check out the matter. A wounding, surely; perhaps with blood. Our four grandbeans, ages 2 to 8, had just left our dinner table and migrated to the back deck to play until dessert. Their parents …

The power secret we’re missing

Secunderabad, India. A breeze teased a response from the thin fabric panels of a red and orange Maharajah tent where a small congregation sat cross-legged on the ground, their arms raised in a song of praise. Watchers stood outside, some curious, a few frowning, their arms folded, listening carefully. A …

Shadow talk

We all have one, uniquely our own. They move, but don’t live. They respond instantly, but can’t see, hear, or communicate. They touch us but we feel nothing. The tiniest can’t be picked up and the largest take up no space. Strange things, shadows. Since they were tiny, my grandbeans …

Faith Dancing

“It’s time to get your faith dancing,” croons gospel singer Sandi Patty. I’m sure she means the good days, when you live up to what you say you believe, and know you’d die for the same. When you sit slow at Jesus’ feet, and stand up fast for what you …

When Hope Caves In

Hope caves in, sometimes. Something goes amiss; sends us plunging.  What separates faith in Christ from optimism, in times like that? Oh, that’s a bad ‘un, older gardeners said when we told them a mole was punching tunnels in our septic- mound-turned- rock- garden. Not much you can do about …