I read about a man of questionable character who wrestles with God. There’s trouble behind, and trouble ahead, and Jacob is caught in one of those back-against-the-wall places where there’s nowhere left to turn. He spends a long, dark, and sleepless night at the end of himself. Dawn breaks on a day he’s been dreading, and
I smile when I read the prompt for this week’s Five Minute Friday—active—because I’ve been anything but this month. October, so far, has been going to appointments, spending bad days on the couch with my heating pad and a Yorkie, tapping out words, reading good books, thinking deep thoughts, and good days in the kitchen
With a soft blanket wrapped around my shoulders, I step barefoot out onto the deck where it’s wet, dark, and quiet. I need to connect with the Divine. I felt drawn from my bed where I lay sleepless and restless, trying to pray and not sure if the muddled thoughts in my mind were prayer
It’s been an unexpected whirlwind week. Yesterday afternoon, I sat in my wing chair, reading and highlighting, while beet pickles processed in the canner. Content, I looked over at my open kitchen with its tidy counters and big blue Ball canner boiling on the stove. We picked the last of the beets the day prior
It’s just after four when I stand at the microwave watching the red numbers count down from seventy-seven. The Keurig coughs and spurts out elixir behind me. Oh God, you have brought me in safety to this new day. That thing in my body that’s been causing me trouble still burns, that concern in my
“What’s that noise?” Even without my hearing aids the loud, low hum distracts me from our noontime chess game. I left them off this morning because I had an appointment with the optometrist. Concentrating on changes to one sense at a time seemed a good idea. Gerry rises from his chair, looks out the window,
I stand on the sidewalk listening to the scrape of a crisp golden leaf skating across the driveway in the wind, feeling both delighted and dismayed. I wouldn’t have heard the sound a few days ago. My sixty-year-old memory had forgotten the song of fallen autumn leaves whirling in the wind. A few weeks ago,