I slept all night, woke to the alarm on my cell phone, and jumped out of bed. I love sleeping all night, which I rarely do. All my aging friends say the same thing—it’s not typical—sleeping straight through the night is not typical. I looked out the double windows over my kitchen sink, past the lanai to the lake beyond, which, thanks to the summer rains, is now full to the brim.  “I love a rainy day”— Sounds like a song!  More rain blew through the palm trees and across the lake causing the water to ripple. I turned the coffee pot on and perched upon the stool at my kitchen bar to read some chapters, the last few Psalms before Chapter 119. I would save 119 until tomorrow, such a long, long chapter. By the time I showered and dressed, the rain had stopped and part of the southern sky was clearing. A low mist hung mysteriously over the lake, just a little something extra God uses to add to the beauty After the Rain . I drove to the coffee shop, as usual, and when...

From JOAB Coming in the Fall of 2012 October, 1868 Oxford, Mississippi Dearest Mama, … I have read, and as you have taught me, living in the past is much like reliving sins committed, which is highly discouraged by the Apostle Paul, and I want you to know I’m trying to search for a better way. As we spoke while sitting on the swing before I left, I desire to live in the spirit of restoration and healing. The war left our country in shambles, and I think the Lord would be pleased if I help restore what was taken away.  I could not be doing this if you had not said the things you did and allowed me to vent my frustrations with what has been going on for years now. We had so much heart. And so much of that is either gone or waning. I know that bitterness slows healing of the old wounds and at all hazards I intend to dispense with my portion of that. I took Will and Aggie back with me to Shiloh for a purpose. I’ve learned much from Aggie about facing the trial...

Chapter 10 Excerpts from JOAB Joab woke early, even before the waking call promised by Mrs. Raines. He had slept well, at peace with yesterday’s decisions and promises to himself. He had a job, a place to pillow his head at night, food to eat. There was little more that he needed—there was yet more that he wanted. Aggie had promised to meet him at the tea room tonight. He must stop by at noon and tell her it would be near seven before he could get back from the sawmill, which was at the edge of town on the road that leads to Harrisburg. He dressed and slipped out of the house thinking what a lovely southern lady, Mrs. Raines. Their home was quite comfortable, in Oxford town, a bungalow under shady oaks and huge magnolias, with ivy growing from the brick street to the front porch steps, a porch that wrapped around over half of the house, behind which was a small barn and a corncrib all fenced about.  He was blessed to have stepped into such a fine setting. He didn’t...

Reposted from 2012. The message bears repeating. There's yet so much to learn. I can still say this at age seventy-one, and I do love learning at this ripe old age. But on this slow-moving Sunday afternoon in gloomy Trinity, Florida, I took the opportunity to rest my brain a little. In fact, I practically fell asleep in my tracks.  But I'm awake now! I have so much to do, so little time to finish it all. Motivated by the young man in this photo, I opened the online encyclopedia and read all about the 7th Cavalry that was created just after the American Civil War, about General Custer and the Battle of Little Bighorn where he lost every man in that Sioux Indian War in Lakota, Montana. Custer and his men were using inadequate weapons while Sitting Bull and his warriors had access to weapons of choice. Needless to say, it was "Custer's Last Stand."  Then I read on about how that 7th Cavalry was extended to the far reaches, evolving to include the sq...

Just wondering this afternoon, as I ponder church this morning... do choir directors and worship leaders NOT read the words to some of these worship songs?  These songs that make no sense whatsoever.  These songs that some songwriter wrote while in a drunken stupor on Saturday night before and then sang on Sunday morning for the first time.  Most of them have no scriptural validity, and those that do manage to eke out a tiny measure of sensibility change grammatical structure in the middle of it all. Now the song has even less meaning and absolutely no intrinsic value. The songwriters of the apostasy have done their part to "bring it on"! Just how far will we digress in worship experience before our spiritual leaders take a stand against such nonsense? Well, I don't think they're going to. Excuse me, I forgot momentarily that we are living in the age of the apostate church. In Laodicea ! Such a falling away from our first love (Revelation 3:14-22). J...

It had been a long time since I was in Memphis. When I go north out of Florida, I usually go to my Mom and Dad's old place and stay with my sister. It feels like going back in time, back when Mother and Daddy were living, when they made Christmases so special. Everything is familiar, nostalgic, comfortable. There is plenty of quiet time to be had, something that is hard to achieve in my own home. If I try to write here, I bog myself down in whatever is going on around me. I've learned how to navigate this reading, writing with pen and pad, and computer input. That means going away from my house every morning for three to four hours, just like I used to do before retirement. The good part is that I have the rest of the day to do as I please—without worrying about pleasing anyone but me and hubs, of course! Selfish? Just wait until you get to this special time in life. You will love it. Back to my trip! When I travel to Mississippi, Peter and my grandson, Harrison...

December 2011 Naked oaks crunchy brown leaves a deck of wood slats and green moss on the north side of things. A hint of yellow left from a Fall that has said goodbye and will not return for yet a little while. A heavy wood gate. Closed. A dog barks in the cold and gray. Cottage bricks rounded and shaped strong and old clinging together with mortar from ages past. Steps to the porch. Cold window panes. Doors ornate with Christmas wreaths. Lighted trees glowing, reflecting. Sweet ornaments with last year's photographs of children's faces framed in delicately knitted circles. Red, green The colors of Winter. There's a welcome here. Chimney smoke the fragrance of wood burning. Sparks on a hearth. Holly Noel—the perfect Christmas name. A good cup of coffee the taste of caramel. A verse for the day. A quiet moment. Fellowship. Joy divine. To lean, depend. Mercy drops and Grace in abundance. And the coveted Gift of Hospitality freely shar...