Hope in the Hard Years
Susan had a bad year. Susan had a really bad year. She lost a loved one, broke her leg, and was stuck in a wheelchair for months on end. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, she had to drive…
Looking for a Sign
If you have ever looked up at the sky and asked for a sign to confirm something or comfort you, you will understand Penny’s wish. In a season when we remember three wise men and a star in the night…
Hope and Summer Reading
I see it everywhere lately. Whether on a digital reader or with a good old fashioned paperback, summer reading is in full bloom. But I learned from a good friend once that not all reading occurs on the pages of…
Hope in a Hole
Recently I heard a good description of both sympathy and empathy. Sympathy is when you see someone in a hole, look down, and say, “Wow, it must be tough down there in that hole!” Empathy is when you see someone…
Hope in the Shade
I used to think that in life you get what you deserve. There is a sense of justice and even pride in that. If I work hard and do good, good things will naturally follow. If life is fair, as…
I’m With Him
“Don’t forget to say that I’m with you,” I said to my co-worker a few minutes before we boarded the plane recently. I’d learned the magic of these words from a friend a few years before. By telling the…
Casey Lou
“That’s the one,” she said, “that one right there!” Jessica smiled brightly and pointed at the small black and white puppy in the playpen. We all turned our heads and saw her for the very first time. Casey Lou, as…
Hope – The Whole Story
I wrote a story a few years ago about a used baby crib my mother purchased for my son at a garage sale shortly after he was born. As we were setting up the crib, I noticed something unusual about…
Hope and the Couple on the Corner
“When I first saw him come around the corner toward our house, I thought he looked just like Moses coming out of the wilderness,” she told me. At that point in his life, he looked more like a homeless person…
Hope and a Mother’s Touch
Mom has Parkinson’s disease. So, when she reaches her hand across her chest to rest it on my forehead, it is stiff and shaking. But what does it matter? Her caress comes from some instinct deep inside. It’s Tuesday and…