I get only what’s on the list. Gingerale and saltines to settle her stomach, a family sized box of cheerios and a gallon of milk so the kids can make their own breakfast if I’m tied up taking care of my mom. I toss a bunch of easy to make lunch stuff into the cart, things the kids can manage in a pinch. I grab some fruit and almond butter. We just have to make it until dinner. Our church fills in slots on the calendar to drop off casseroles and soups, crusty bread baked fresh in their ovens …
Faith
When Your Mom Breaks Her Back and Then Teaches You the Gospel Again
I answer my phone with a joke. “Did you lock yourself in the chicken coop again?” It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gone out in the morning to feed the chickens and collect eggs to find the latch had fallen into place and locked her in with the flock. But the voice on the other end wasn’t joking. “I fell, I’m hurt…I think I broke my back.” The voice is my mom and yet not my mom, strangled and gasping for breath. I’ve never heard her sound like that. I am out the back door scanning our …
Let Us Be About Kingdom Come: An Incourage Post
My granddaddy on my father’s side had klan ties. He wasn’t blood related, my dad never knew his real father, and somehow that makes me feel better, as if blood has anything to do with the way we’re blinded by hate and lies and all the separating we do when we make people less than or other. I’ve come to know that blood is the only thing that sets us free but that’s another story. Needless to say, I never really knew him. My dad was born into the dirty south in the 1950s. He was threadbare …
