Autumn leaves are fluttering
From the broad and stately oak.
Our warm and cozy hearths, now lit,
Send up their plumes of smoke,
To air perfumed with cedar scent
And winter smells of pine,
The crisp, cool day as beckoning
As finest, vintage wine.
Sunshine sends its warming rays
To banish winter chill,
A breeze sighs softly through the trees
Where dark-eyed Juncos trill.
Then peace is harshly shattered
By the awful, strident roar,
Assaulting every eardrum
Like the death throes of a boar.
The noise is more alarming
Than the screech of garbage trucks.
It’s worse than toddlers screaming
Or a chainsaw run amok. …
My partner and I haven’t invited friends over since February. We haven’t been to a bar or a theatre in almost a year, and the last time we were at church was in March.
Our church opened a couple of months ago, but reservations are required. Seating is limited, and everybody is required to wear a mask. People are escorted to and from their seats, and socializing is discouraged.
I’m still not attending, and don’t know when I will. Currently, I’m happy to watch services live-streamed on TV.
I don’t know what the rest of the country looks like, but despite our semi-lockdown and despite a muted church experience, things in the South are bustling. …
If you’re a writer who always wanted to write, you’ve probably been writing a long time. Maybe you scribbled stories as a child or wrote poetry as a teenager.
I had forgotten how often I turned to poetry when I was young, but stumbling across an old binder of poems while cleaning out the basement precipitated a flood of memories.
As a lonely 13-year-old, poetry transported me to a different place. I soaked it up as nourishment for the soul and strength for the spirit.
I read Wordsworth, Longfellow and Dickinson from the time I could read, and it wasn’t long before I was scribbling my own rhymes. …
My sister in law recently sold her business, but she wouldn’t have sold it if she had known what would happen next.
She had started the financial planning and investment company as a young woman, when she was a single mother who had just been laid off from her job.
In those early years, she studied for state certification exams, scrambled for clients, and worked night and day.
One week she came to visit me in Atlanta because of a business course she was taking. She stayed up late into the night trying to learn the material and pass the exams, and turned down wine with dinner because, as she said, “I need to study instead of losing my resolve.” …
“There’s no case that can be made biblically for a woman preacher. Period, paragraph, end of discussion.” John MacArthur
My partner and I were listening to a Joyce Meyer sermon on TV last Sunday, since we’re not attending in-person church during the pandemic. We enjoy her upbeat messages and the way she emphasizes service and living positively.
In case you haven’t heard of her, Joyce Meyer’s father sexually abused her for years, she endured an abusive marriage before getting divorced, and now leads a world-wide ministry that sends doctors and dentists to remote areas of the world.
She talks a lot about forgiveness, trusting God and living your best life, along with encouraging people to use their resources to help end human trafficking, hunger, and poverty. …
The media is so full of stories about politics, elections and coronavirus that I decided to cast around for news that didn’t concern these hot button topics.
An elementary school in France has banned late-arriving parents from hurling their kids over its closed gate when dropping them off.
You heard me right! Parents are hurling their kids over a fence.
And it isn’t just a little fence. According to the principal, it’s a six-footer.
Maybe you’re different, but I couldn’t lift a child gently and gracefully over a six-foot fence. I would have to sling the child with all the force I could muster, like flinging a cat by its tail, and even with that effort the child would likely land smack into it. …
Storm winds topple trees in sodden soil,
Heavy in the aftermath
of last night’s terror,
Winds that lashed illusions of security
Sunlight shining light on night time turmoil,
Mocking in serenity.
Chainsaws shrill and scream, a strident song
To counter night’s chaotic concert,
Wind and rain and thunder, timeless tune
Of nature laughing.
Hopping in my little boat,
I push away from noisy shore
And row in silky silence, solitude,
Dip and splash of oar
My soothing song.
Logs and limbs, echoes of night’s turmoil,
Drift and bob in currents soft and slow,
My little boat cuts through it all,
I think she rides the lake with glee. …
Did I hear him right? The newspaper publisher sitting across from me was trying to lure me away from my current job. “I’d like you to come and work for me,” he said.
I was the editor of a small-town weekly newspaper in the heart of a North Carolina town that you would miss if you blinked your eyes passing through. The publisher of a competing paper was offering me a job.
I had exposed a corruption scheme that got the police chief fired, and I had interviewed the owner of a new massage parlor on the outskirts of town. I don’t know which story was the bigger draw. Featured with the massage parlor story was a photo I had snapped of the curvy woman in charge, perched on an exercise bike, smiling sexily. …
President-elect Joe Biden announced yesterday that his first executive order will be a nationwide turn signal mandate.
“My priority is the safety and health of the American citizens, and we have to get this traffic thing under control,” Biden said. “The mandate won’t be forever; just until we as a nation get into the habit of using turn signals.”
“I won’t let the government tell me what to do. My car is my sanctuary,” one protestor said, echoing the sentiments of many.
A crowd converged on Washington, D.C. carrying signs and banners that expressed their hostility to the mandate:
“Hell No, Signals Gotta…
When I woke up this morning, I expected my social media feed to be refreshingly free of Trump stories, memes, and one-liners.
I mean, the election is over, right?
So I was surprised to see no fewer than 56 articles with Trump in their headline.
Here are just a few of them:
Left suggests Rounding up Trump supporters and sending them to Siberia
Trump supporters vow to form separate state
Democrats express amazement that Trump supporters aren’t rioting and burning cities
Writers vow to continue writing about Trump as long as they can find funny memes of him on Unsplash
These articles are just the tip of the iceberg. The sheer number of Trump stories one week post-election left me with two options. …