“Uh, oh. Little horse, big trouble,” I thought. But it made sense that seven-year-old Sherah (the smallest of our three-person team) would choose the Shetland pony from the line-up of horses. The others towered over her. When Amanda had called to see if I’d accompany her and the eldest four …
I’d rather go to a saint’s funeral than a sinner’s party. Marking a life well lived calls me higher. Reminds me to live in such a way that my grandchildren will remember my love and follow my faith. Such was my mother Agnes’s farewell. Mom was the sweet and sticky stuff …
The parsonage home my daughter and family lived in for nearly a dozen years sits empty, awaiting new residents. During their long process of sorting and packing, I thought often about our last parsonage move, a decade ago. At the time, I wrote: _____________________________ Hold your blessings loosely, I’ve …
“Ya know, hon,” I blurted, jabbing my finger in the direction of the television. “After watching that, I don’t even feel like a Christian!” We’d just viewed a documentary based on the life of a renowned Protestant missionary, author and spiritual giant. Amy Carmichael, a predecessor to Mother Teresa, established …
It began simply enough. Just one of those things parents do to support their kids. In 1991, we’d just moved to Saskatchewan from Ontario, and our son decided to sign up for Sea Cadets. The Preacher and I went to a few Branch (parent) meetings, but he never stopped. Next …
Three-year-old Ezra calls me from his face-up position on the living room floor. A bulky mass of grey and black wool obliterates his torso. Both boy and dog are grinning. “Nana! Cash is lyin’ on me ‘gain. Could you git him off, please?” “Come, Cash,” I call. The dog looks …
“It’s time to get your faith dancing,” croons gospel singer Sandi Patty. I’m sure she means those 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 fast for what you know …
When I learned about a former parishioner’s death from a mutual friend, the Preacher and I didn’t question whether to attend her funeral. Of course we’d go. Dorothy’s family (name changed) regularly attended our last church. A few years earlier, the Preacher had officiated at her husband’s funeral. Both were …
Like the sweeping arc of a lighthouse beam, illuminating, for one glorious moment, some unutterably lovely scene, a beautiful season of life will soon end for our family. Our six grandbeans can no more race the three hundred steps between their parsonage and our home, the shortest legs pumping …
God knows I’m grateful for all his blessings. For Jesus and home and country. Faith and family and friends. But this Thanksgiving column has somehow gotten paw prints all over it. It’s done. The months of searching. Praying. Wondering if we could, if we should, if God and GraceCat and …
