If you're anything like me, you don't like conflict. You avoid taking a position on tough issues, because you'd rather not offend others.     Aren't we supposed to work at getting along with each other? Didn't Jesus teach that we should love others? Kumbayah, and all that?   If your perception of Jesus is the Hippy Boyfriend version, that works. Kris Kristofferson's song comes to mind,   "Jesus was a Capricorn, he ate organic food; he believed in love and peace, and never wore no shoes..."   Okay, now you know how old I am. But I digress. Here's my focus: Continue Reading

Time for another true confession. I hate to admit it, but I am one of those people who consistently anticipates worst-case scenarios. Some embarrassing examples:   I forget where I placed my purse and instantly assume it's been stolen. Or I leave the house and then remember I didn't turn off my curling iron-- and in my mind's eye, the house burns to the ground.   Have these things ever happened to me? No! So why does my brain go there?   Maybe you can relate to this. Maybe your mind works overtime on creating drama and dwelling on potential negative Continue Reading

I want to apologize ahead of time, just in case you run across me at the store today and I snap at you.   I'm sorry for being crabby.   I'm kind of crash-diving emotionally after a great weekend full of happy events.   Has that ever happened to you?   You know, one of those times when life is fantastic, things are coming together, lots to celebrate and be grateful for, and then, just when you think you couldn't fly any higher ....   The air goes out of your balloon.   Years ago, Barney Wiget, a former pastor of mine who blogs at Musing the Continue Reading

You wouldn't have thought it was a big deal.   Nothing that unusual about a mother handing her exhausted grown son a warm rice bag and a couple of ibuprofen for his headache.   A pretty uneventful errand to bring his supper to the couch where he is resting.   It was one of the best moments of my life.   Flash back about thirteen hours. It's about 5 a.m. that cold December day, still pitch-black outside.   I am awakened by my husband's hand on my shoulder.   Scott does not ever purposefully touch me when I'm asleep because, well,  the consequences Continue Reading