The biscotti recipe called for a quarter cup of molasses. Pouring it, thick and black, into the mixing bowl, I marveled that I had enough energy and motivation to make those cookies. My nutritionist friend Glenda was right, I guessed. Her advice had helped. I’d been healthy and happy all …
To celebrate our 31st anniversary the Preacher handed me a card with an ape holding a bouquet of flowers on the front. The message read, “To my Darling Wife—I got you a card that’s just like me.” But the card seemed glued shut. I tried several times to open it. …
Some relatives are like mountains—best viewed from a distance. A few of mine may think that of me, but if I had to list them, my nephew Jeremy wouldn’t be among them. Though he does live over the mountains, I’m confident of this: Jeremy loves me. When he was younger …
“In the beginning,” says Genesis 1:1, “God created the heavens and the earth.” Christians accept that—but HOW? Since the birth of modern science, the question of our origins, tossed like a meaty bone into the arena of public debate, has fuelled tremendous wrangling. Church leadership and laity, government and state, …
So now we have four. The news rushed in just before Christmas was all put away. Grandbean #4 has arrived. I stood at my kitchen counter, chopping up vegetables for dinner. In the living room—open to the kitchen—the Preacher sat in his recliner, looking a point or two below prime. …
I’m not surprised that our son’s life has bent in the direction of construction. As a boy, he spent hours building things from Lego. Today he builds and renovates houses for a living. Castles, really. Except ours. When he travelled two provinces east to come home for Christmas, he spent …
As a teenager, freshly licensed to drive, I drove my car—a skim-milk-white, ‘64 pushbutton Dodge, loaded with friends—to the top of Vancouver’s Hollyburn Mountain for a Saturday of skiing. Snow fell lightly as we made our way up the mountain road. No guard rails lined its icy hairpin curves—just an …
I resolve to memorize more Bible passages this year. They grow my spirit. Besides, I have Beans to keep ahead of. Celebration day, feast on the table, house full of people. Five-year-old Butterfly Bean watches me pour out cider. Whispers, “Nana. I have something to tell you.” “Yes?” I reach …
