It’s easy to think about the color white right now as I look out my windows. Everything is white. The lake is covered in white. Every needle and every branch on every single tree is white. White frost etches my windows. The very air is white.
What is it about the color red that is so celebratory? Just try not to smile at a red balloon! Or a child pulling a red wagon. Or consider the red jackets of the Queen’s guards! Or the red stripe on a Marine’s fancy dress uniform! Red is sharp. It’s bold. It’s cheerful.
When I was a kid I attended Good News Club one day a week after school. It was held at our church and my mom was one of the leaders. Good News Club was run by Child Evangelism Fellowship (CEF), which still exists today. One of the things I remember most about Good News Club was the Wordless Book.
When we were in the final days leading up to the women’s conference this fall, I was reading my Bible one night before bed and two verses jumped out at me. I was feeling a little anxious about the upcoming conference. Not terribly stressed, but tired, and that always seems to lead to anxiety.
WORTHINGTON — In a world of instant gratification, trends and loyalty, longevity can be a rare find. Worthington’s Chamber Singers defy the odds, both in endurance as an entity and in Christmas Spirit in this year’s annual concert.
When I was 13 years old — give or take a year — my sister and brother-in-law took me ice skating for the first time. I lived in Washington state and it didn’t freeze very often on Orcas Island, so to have the ice on the ponds actually freeze hard enough to hold people … well, that was pretty special.
It’s a strange dichotomy to be elated and full of sorrow, both at the same time. It’s like your body can’t hold it all, so the emotions just spill out in a pounding heart and shaking hands and all you can do is cry.
I was listening to a podcast this morning while folding clothes — a task made infinitely better by the input of a good podcast — and the speaker, Minnesota author Leif Enger, said something about the moment when he knew that books and writing were going to be very important in his life.
Before the days of Trunk-or-Treats, before the days of churches sponsoring “dress like a Bible character” night instead of trick-or-treating, before anyone ever worried about finding razorblades in their chocolate bars, I roamed my neighborhood on Halloween night with my next-door-neighbor entirely confident, entirely innocent, entirely safe.
We knew that my husband’s grandmother, Mary, was near the end of her life. She was, after all, 97 years old. But it still came as a jolt to learn that she had died. Mary had six children, 16 grandchildren, and 13 great-grands, to date. She was smart, funny, thoughtful, inquisitive, insightful, friendly. Mary didn’t have a fancy college degree, but she was one of the wisest people I have known.