When we travel to a location, we don’t consider that location to be our “destination.” Instead of a “place,” every mile, every jaunt, of the trip itself is our destination.
The Trip Itself
Remember what He said . . .
The day was the worst ever. It was neither “Good” nor “Holy,” as we now refer to the Friday of Holy Week. In the midst of the curious, the angry, the Jewish officials, and the Roman soldiers, this handful of Christ followers – the women – stood near the cross, numbed in their sorrow and despair. Their Messiah, their Lord, their Savior, had been brutally beaten – beyond recognition. Earlier, they had followed Him and the procession of onlookers as He carried His cross, sometimes falling to the ground, up the hill.
How can He possibly continue. Please God.
But He did continue.
My Great Defender
I’m always fascinated – and thankful. Women marched – and marched – and marched! Then 100 years ago, women gained the right to vote. And because of them, we women today have not only the right to vote but equal rights overall. Those marching women changed history for all women in our country, positively affecting women in other countries, as well. It was the huge step for women. They stood together with very few men supporting them. They were our early defenders.
Broom Tree Love
I’m not sure the reason, but as time goes by and I analyze the stats on my website, I have discovered that the post, “Broom Tree Love” seems to receive more viewers than any other. I’ve decided to repost it – especially for those of you who are new subscribers!
Broom Tree Love
“Neighbors bring food with death,” Harper Lee had written in To Kill a Mockingbird.
The Surf
It was the end of the year – the New Year’s Eve – and we stood on the beach, watching the sunset, and praying for our family, as had become our custom these recent years along this stretch of sea. We prayed for each by name, our hearts pouring into every praise and every request. It was a stirring time, of course, reflecting upon the past year, its blessings and its trials – and looking with hopeful anticipation into the next. And as we prayed, the sun lowered along the horizon.
So She Waits . . .
She knows she shouldn’t worry – shouldn’t fear. She reads it, studies it, believes it. She speaks that Word as a reminder to herself. She speaks that Word as prayer.
But the fear is sometimes overpowering,
much like its creator, the deceiver, who strips her mind, if only temporarily, of any other options than that of the fear of loss. More loss. The deceiver assaults, approaching her from his dark hiding place, filling her tired and weary mind with the worst possibilities. She suddenly feels weak – nearly too weak to fight. But she waits.
You don’t even have to ask – (Route 66 Chapter 3)
Still in Arizona, we continued traveling west on Route 66 (literally I-40, but I like to know it’s as close to the original Mother Road as we can get!), hoping to reach Grants, New Mexico before dark.
Get Your Kicks . . . Route 66 (Chapter 1)
“If you ever plan to motor west
Travel my way, take the highway that’s the best
Get your kicks on Route 66″
You’ve heard it. Even if it was before your time, which it probably was.
How many beans could a woodchuck eat if a woodchuck could eat beans?
How many beans could a woodchuck eat if a woodchuck could eat beans?
Here’s the answer to that age-old question (well, to a similar age-old question!):
The Poppies of the Field
Passersby stopped their cars. Some actually drove in the big circle driveway, walked up the steps to the porch, and knocked on the kitchen door.
“May we look at your flower garden?” they asked.
