Based on common banking principles, I’m proposing that Heaven institute a calorie bank in which everyone would have their own account.
Yep – a calorie account to count calories.
A fat deposit box, if you will.

Our enthusiasm far exceeded our talent. Yup, we were lousy. But it was okay. Our goal was not to accomplish any life-changing purpose; it was simply to enjoy a carefree starlit night, wear silly clothes, and express our joy about the birth of a Savior in a manger.
But Papa God had a different purpose in mind.

Suddenly, my breath caught in my throat as I swerved to miss a body lying half on the sidewalk, half in the road. I passed the prone man and slowed, finally pulling over to the side of the road at the bottom of the bridge, battling within myself whether to get out or keep going.
This was before cell phones, mind you, so there was no way to call for help within the safe, warm comfort of my car. I had to make a get-your-hands-dirty – or not – decision on the spot. I’ll admit I didn’t want to stop. I was bone tired and gnawingly hungry. And I was wearing my brand new lacy white Christmas blouse; I sure didn’t want to mess it up.

We all want to put our prettiest toenails forward when capturing memories that’ll be hauled out again and again during future Christmas and New Year’s gatherings, right? But we’ve also experienced those horrified gag moments when we want to hurl our partially digested gingerbread cookies at hideous photos of ourselves. Who wants to be mistaken ...

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the everyday blessings we enjoy: health, family, home, old friends, Cadbury milk chocolate bars with almonds … You know, I’d just like to saver this lovely tranquility – this peaceful contentment, this quiet pre-Christmas-madness moment – a little longer. Before the stress begins. Ahhh. Okay. It’s over. Here ...

Yes, I know I’m a couple days late with my usual Thursday post this week, but I beg your pardon for good reason. I’m just too busy giving thanks. And planning four birthday parties (both my parents, my son, and myself were all born during the week of Thanksgiving). And planning a special surprise for ...
by Debora M. Coty Leave a Comment
by Debora M. Coty Leave a Comment

