The Feed

The older woman fascinated me. When she mentioned God speaking to her or showing her something, I wanted to know more. I was a young believer—new to the faith.            She spoke to a Sunday school class I attended and asked if anyone had any questions. Someone would probably laugh or make fun of me, but I longed for God to speak to me. Trembling, I raised my hand.           “How do you know God is speaking to you?” I noticed others around me nodding.           She took a l

“Mary must have been in shock,” I said.           “She’s not the only one, I am too,” my friend Gerry said.           We were a group of friends having lunch at the beginning of December.  This group was great fun because we never knew where the conversation will lead.           “What do you mean, you are shocked too?” I asked.           “My pastor explained it to me this way. Mary became pregnant by the Holy Spirit. As believers in Jesus, we have the Holy Spirit inside us to

To save money, my husband booked our seats in different places. I found myself in the middle seat for a five hour flight to Iceland. The aisle seat held a huge man descended from Vikings, who confided his plan to deal with the long flight by getting drunk. In the window seat, a sweet girl from North Africa frowned at her cell phone. Rashida (not her real name) studied law in Boston. If she’d told me she was a model or a beauty pageant contestant, I would’ve believed her.   As

The quotation stared at me from the page, “What if you woke up today with only the things you thanked God for yesterday?” - Max Lucado. Oh, my… I have a great number of food allergies, so you would think if ever someone thanked God for every meal, it should be me. But sadly, that’s not the case. When I grew up, we only said “grace” on special occasions, Sundays, or if we had company. I struggle to remember to take time to be thankful for my food when I sit down to eat.     

My friend made an off-hand remark, and it hurt. Just teasing, she had no idea she’d hit a vulnerable spot in my life. It wouldn’t have pained my heart so much, but I worried that what she said was partly true. I didn’t want to share the truth; therefore, I didn’t talk to her.          A small creature knocked on my heart’s door. It offered to commiserate with me. “Invite me in and tell me all about it. You’ll feel better if you talk about it!” Small, dark and hooded, it’s red

“Every time I close my eyes, I see zombies,” the three-year-old said. Her tired eyes stared, pleading into my soul. With two older...