Category Archives: Musings

Whenever I hear “the balm of Gilead” I recall fond memories as a choir girl singing that old old spiritual. Little did I fully understand the meaning of the word Gilead, and what the balm of it was all about. Yet I knew there was something surely special about that balm for people to singContinue reading “Marinating in The Balm of Gilead”

She had stood tall, proclaimed her thoughts, and found herself cast out into a wilderness place. She had been brave voicing her opinions to her father, the unchallenged patriarch of the family. Her opinion defied his, valid though it was. Now here she was, in a valley of dry bones. Bones not literally that sheContinue reading “The Balm of Gilead”

She whirled around and around, ever faster and faster it seemed. Mesmerized by the grace of her movement one could not help but wonder how she could stay upright. Dizziness surely would be her prize, a sense of disorientation like children spinning, wobbling, staggering with laughter. And still she whirled on, missing not a stepContinue reading “On Point”

“Hurry! Time’s awaistin’! Just get ’er done!” Ever had the dogs of impatience nipping at your heels, or worse yet, screaming in your head? Sure there are times when expedience is paramount, even life-saving. Yet much of life does not require such a high adrenaline response. Or the demand to chugga-chugga-chugga to produce-produce-produce when there’sContinue reading “Impatient’s Folly”

The day promised to be warm. Still May, temperatures crept up only to plummet again without warning. Not unusual for Idaho, but much different than those very predictable four seasons I remember as a child. One thing certainly has not changed. The tenacity of grass invading the flower borders. “Be sure every white root isContinue reading “Divide and Conquer”

The spot was dark, bleeding over and around the other brilliant colors in the painting. Somehow the flaw had overcome the lighter shades, and ran like rivulets throughout the work. It was heart-wrenching for the painter to watch his ideal marred. The consequences were dire, yet even so he could not bear to throw thisContinue reading “Flawed Paintings”

Oh, the smell of rain washed air Cleansing waters everywhere Earth proudly wearing finery Birds chorusing in harmony Just stepping on the garden pathBrings solace to my weariness I think I’ve been inside too long I need to hear God’s nature song Sunlight shines on raindrops clearKissing flowers, leaves, all nearDrinking heaven’s cheer to fillBurstingContinue reading “After A Rain”

Even when rejected Love is hovering still Reaching, caring, giving Wounded hearts to fill It matters not the offenseLove still avails thereLike misty clouds surroundingDiaphanous – like air Love waits in hidden places To shine and spread His light Consolation, uplift Hope in darkest night Fear not the invitation Of Love to join you inContinue reading “Love Hovers Still”

After forty-plus years I have finally figured it out. Sit down, please! This might be the revelation of forever – or not. But it does seem to apply to my husband and me, and the vast differences in our personalities. As much as we try, he forever is a Brussel sprout, and I am aContinue reading “Brussel Sprouts and Broccoli”

Then Abraham fell on his face and laughed, and said in his heart, “Shall a child be born to a man who is one hundred years old? And shall Sarah, who is ninety years old, bear a child?” Genesis 17:17 (NKJV) reveals a delightful, and unbelievable scene. Old people astonished with the thought of bearingContinue reading “Never Too Old”

“Proud flesh,” is a term frequently associated with equine wounds, especially those occurring in joint areas, or other places where lots of movement interferes with complete healing. Granulation tissue, usually growing from the outside inward, overgrows its edges leaving a wound not fully healed, and prone to easy reinjury. I wonder at the proud fleshContinue reading “Proud Flesh”

Pop! Pop! Pop! The ideas randomly burst upon my mind exploding with intrigue and delicious aroma! There is momentum in them, enough to get me out of bed to write when tradition says I should be falling asleep. But how can I suppress the opportunity to indulge myself in this treat? When an idea popsContinue reading “Popcorn Writing”

There seems to be a little writing in my genes. Since my young years of the locked “Dear Diary” to the flow of words that just seemed to pour forth when writing letters, words have always been special tools to find expression, capture wonder, ponder and explore. I see now in my older years thatContinue reading “A little about me”