— By Kath Miles, Grace Lover Yesterday, I got into a very long discussion with a Christian friend who was responding to the last blog I wrote called “Underserved.” She was adamant that I was wrong about God’s grace and, at one point, even suggested that my voicing what I …Read More »
One day a woman’s husband suddenly died, and on that clear, cold morning, in the warmth of their bedroom, the wife was struck with the pain of learning that sometimes there isn’t “anymore.” No more hugs, no more holding hands, no more special moments to celebrate together, no more phone …Read More »
During the waning years of the depression in a small Idaho community, I used to stop by Mr. Miller's roadside stand for farm fresh produce as the season made it available. Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was used extensively.
One day Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas.
By Robert Peterson
She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live. I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sand castle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea. "Hello," she said.
I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child. "I'm building," she said.
"I see that. What is it?" I asked, not really caring.