Political voices clamor for attention in election season. Ads, commercials, billboards, yard signs, debates, social media—voices fight to gain our ear as they seek out every possibility to pipe their messages into our minds.
And most of us are frustrated. Frustrated because there isn’t a candidate who we really endorse—from either party.
Some I know have even decided not to vote at all—especially those on the conservative side. To vote for someone whose views differ from their own—even if he was picked by their party of affiliation—seems a wrong endorsement to them. (My own view, by the way, is that a vote is not an endorsement but a choice. When I have the privilege of being given a say as to who will lead me, I’m going to select my best option every time! Even if I don’t agree with the leader’s entire platform.)
Voting or not, many of us look forward to the end of election season, when the clamoring voices will finally pipe down. Continue reading
Because there is no shortage of people who count the days until Christmas
and because Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday
and because I don’t believe this esteemed holiday receives enough exposure
and because I don’t know anybody else who counts down the days until Thanksgiving… Continue reading
Without a doubt, they were these:
“I’m praying for you.”
And to think, the friend who said them actually apologized! She said, “I wish I could say something really wonderful, but…”
Suffice it to say, she did say something really wonderful. Because I know she meant it.
Who have you sincerely prayed for today?
Ten years ago this weekend, I drove to our church’s youth conference with excited trepidation. In the back of the van were five hundred copies of the premiere issue of Stepping in the Light magazine.
Bound in each magazine copy was the compilation of four years of dreaming, much prayer, six weeks of intense labor (and sleepless, teary nights), and all the money I had been given for my high school graduation.
That night, we would be giving the magazine out—one per family—to the teen girls for whom I’d prepared it. I was thrilled with the way it had turned out…but I couldn’t help but wonder how it would be received.
This much I knew, we needed two hundred subscriptions just to pay for the printing and mailing of the next issue. I expected somewhere between two and three hundred, and I hoped for more. Continue reading
I started taking piano lessons when I was about seven. And I started practicing my scales the very same day. Not just one scale, all of the major scales. My teacher (who ate ice cream during the lesson) wrote the letter of every scale out for me in a notebook. He sent me home with the notebook and told me to practice.
I knew right away that I didn’t like practicing scales. But I also knew that the more diligently I practiced the pieces I was assigned, the sooner I “passed” them and moved on to other pieces.
And so I labored over the scales. Over and over, day after day, I read/sang the note names in a tone-deaf fashion while I worked to program my fingers to coordinate: “C, D, E, F, G, A, B, C [weary breath]; D, E, F sharp, G…”
Every lesson, I dreaded the beginning—playing through my scales. And every week, when I finished my lesson, I left with instructions to work on those horrid scales. Continue reading