It’s been a while since we tested our verbiage acumen; how’s about we do a little Funk & Wagnall thang? Whoa. I just like saying Funk & Wagnall, don’t you? Try it. Very relaxing. I think our nation would be a much kinder, gentler, sleepier place if we all chanted “Funk & Wagnall” three times ...
Ponytail Yanking
For the past few weeks, in addition to participating in a Bible study about how we hear the voice of God speaking to us, I’ve been reading some of the minor prophets (translation: those teensy books near the end of the Old Testament full of unpronounceable names and funky images that don’t get nearly the ...
Love is in the Air
It’s February in the South. Spring has sprung and love is definitely in the air. Papa God apparently wanted to make that very clear, so He hung this heart among the clouds on my morning prayer walk. Yep, signs of spring are all around me … the new bumper crop of baby squirrels leaving their ...
In Job’s Shadow
Job. The biblical synonym for loss. Suffering. Anguish. And tears. Lots of tears. None of us wants to walk in Job’s footsteps. Because to tread in Job’s sandals means pain. Soul-searing, cloth-tearing, head-shaving, ash-rolling, heart-wrenching pain that accompanies the loss of everything … everything you hold dear. So I won’t say I’ve been following in Job’s footprints ...
Tribute to Fenway
What’s this, you say. Another tribute? What can I say, I reply. Another loss. Another tribute. Yes, this has indeed been a season of personal loss for our family. Layers and layers of loss. Maybe for yours too? If so, my BBFF (Blessed Blog Friend Forever), you have my deepest empathy. I send you my ...
Strangers Connect
I sat in Chick-Fil-a five days after my father unexpectedly died, trying to hold back unbidden tears while waiting on friends to arrive. I was early. They were late. I had commandeered a table next to the play area so we could watch the children playing, but instead of being uplifted by the shouts and ...
Daddy’s Girl
It’s true. I’m a daddy’s girl. Always have been. Always will be. My daddy’s name is Frank Mitchell. And he graduated to heaven on Christmas Day this year. His time on earth ended suddenly; only a week earlier he was laughing and singing Christmas carols with all of us who adored him, his beautiful clear ...
When It Just Ain’t Joyful
Here I sit a week before Christmas, exhausted, not a single Christmas card in the mail, the living room strewn with wrapping paper and bows, taped boxes containing gifts to whom I can’t remember (we ran out of gift tags and no time to run to the store), while a swarm of workmen bang away ...
Christmas Traditions
As I write this, I’m sitting here munching a handful of yummy Cheesie Krispies, my beloved Aunt Lala’s contribution to our family Christmases during my growing-up years. When Aunt Lala passed away a decade ago, it became my contribution, not only because I adore the crunchy, cheddar-y little darlings, but because I felt it important ...
Hearing That Still Small Voice
Last week at this time I was planning a presentation to a mom’s group in a warm-hearted town in Indiana, a “fur piece” (as we died-in-the-seersucker Southerners are known to say) from my home in central Florida. I had tweaked and edited and honed my message from my new book Too Blessed to be ...