You might be familiar with the classic jazz song that begins: “How come you do me like you do do do? How come you do me like you do? Why do you try to make me feel so blue? I’ve done nothing to you.” Although it was written nearly 100 years ago, this song pops into my head far too often these days.
My grandparents had a farm in Indiana and although they would never have wanted to be thought of as gamblers, I think farmers are about the biggest gamblers on the planet. Or maybe they just get used to trusting God in practical ways many of us can’t fathom.
I don’t see them too often, but I know they’re out there. And I know what they’re thinking. They’re thinking about all the things in my yard they want to eat when the sun goes down.
Nobody does murder mysteries like the British. All of those old manor houses and quaint cottages must be chock-full of people who have more dark motives and secrets than the queen has pocketbooks.
Take a seat, Monkeypox. There’s another new virus in town, although so far, it’s affected only one person on the planet: my granddaughter, Sadie. It’s called “Gramsickness” and apparently my granddaughter came down with it just after my husband and I stayed with our grandkids while our son a…
On May 3, 2021, a tornado steamrolled through our property, making a huge mess that’s still costing us money, time and energy. A year later on the same exact date, something — or rather, someone — wonderful blew into our lives: Lily Bernadette Crum, our ninth glorious grandchild.
I never actually met Theodore, but he was practically a legend at my house when I was a kid. Hardly a family meal went by when my mom or dad didn’t call one of us kids “Theodore” when they caught us displaying poor table manners.
I was going to look like a spiritual midget, the only woman at the conference who couldn’t complete the assignment we’d been given by the speaker. And I couldn’t hide because I was up front coordinating and emceeing things.
Instead of viewing him simply as a “pasture ornament,” I’m now seeing Boo, our donkey, in a whole new light. If the price of gasoline rises to 10 bucks a gallon, as some predict, I fear it might be time to throw a saddle on this obstinate creature.
“But we’ll hardly ever need it … but it’s so expensive … but it means we’ll have an ugly propane ‘submarine’ tank in our backyard … but our power doesn’t usually stay off all that long.”
Sometimes a chicken is just a chicken, an anonymous bird that pops out eggs for us or ends up being served on a plate next to dollops of slaw and mashed potatoes. But as I’ve learned, a chicken can also be a constant reminder that God may grant even the most seemingly hopeless requests.
We’ve gotten a couple of wee little snowfalls this year, but some of us — not my snow-Scroogy husband, but some of us — are still hoping for one big snow before winter is over. The kind that gently arrives, looks beautiful, and is gone without a trace in a couple of days.
There’s definitely a pandemic. A pandemic of craziness, caused by an acute deficiency of common sense. I see symptoms nearly everywhere I look. Even in one of my kitchen drawers.
When a writing deadline draws nigh and the old noggin is worn slap out from holiday hoopla, I know it’s time to dip into my file of weird news stories for inspiration.
If we are, as many folks suspect, being spied on through our smartphones and electronic devices, the eavesdropper assigned to me, human or AI (artificial intelligence), is probably bored out of his, her or its gourd and begging for a transfer. Unless, of course, they enjoy hearing about Jesu…
After visiting me the other day, my friend Heidi went home and discovered a weapon of mass destruction (WMD) had been detonated in her house. And that WMD has a name: Worf, Heidi’s thoroughly neurotic dog.
She smiles and says she’s fallen and ended up with a big knot on her forehead so many times, the other residents in her assisted living community call her “the unicorn.” We’ve thought she might graduate from this life to the next on a few occasions, but Lord willing, my amazing and resilient…
Although some students have been in class for weeks now, the end of August still feels like back-to-school time and reminds me how excited I used to be when a new school year meant a brand new box of Crayola crayons and a new pair of Red Ball Jet tennis shoes — the ones that promised to let …
If you think an old dog can’t learn new tricks — ooops, please excuse me for a moment while I adjust my flea collar — you’re wrong. Doggone it if I haven’t gotten myself into yet another situation where something I want to do is forcing me to learn things I never really wanted to learn.
Just when I thought political correctness couldn’t get any more incorrect, here comes this news tidbit: Officials in Australia and New Zealand have decided shark attacks occurring along their shores can no longer be called shark attacks.
Just about every walk I take begins with a prayer that God will not allow any snake in the universe to cross my path or enter my field of vision. And thankfully, in all my years of country living, I’ve had only one up-close encounter with a “good snake” (an oxymoron if ever I heard one) … un…
I asked my husband if he thought I could get by with writing yet another column about our recent tornado experience. He looked over at me with weary eyes and deadpanned, “Yeah, I’d say this tornado was definitely worth at least three columns.”
When I titled this column “Live & Learn” 20 years ago, I should’ve known God would take me seriously and keep the lessons coming. And boy, oh boy, He certainly has.
Apparently, I’m a “fixer,” or so say some of the people who know me best. If you want drugs or the name of a hitman, I’m not your girl, but generally speaking, I absolutely love to play a part in finding solutions to problems, big or small, that are causing hardship, disappointment or frustr…
I love weird stories and heaven knows, our world is filled to overflowing with them. I was recently treated to one when some friends recounted something they witnessed in a restaurant.
That’s what border guards in Denmark have been trying to figure out since the Danish government began requiring them to decide if couples are enough in love to be allowed to cross the border to see each other during the COVID pandemic.
I recently saw a picture that captured so well at least one slice of the crazy pie being served up to us these days. The graphic showed Mr. Potato Head looking side-eyed at a Mr. Coffee coffeemaker and saying, “You’re next.”
OK, class, it’s time for a quiz. Here’s the only question: How should we react to the truth that God sees everything we do? Should we feel: a) fear; b) guilt; c) disbelief; or d) comfort?
Before a gazillion channels were available on TV and streaming services such as Netflix had yet to be hatched in the golden nest of Silicon Valley, my husband and I used to watch a lot of old classic movies about World War II. The ones about the war in the Pacific always included scenes with…
Now it’s personal. COVID-19, the invisible tyrant that declared itself emperor of the world this past year, audaciously marched right into our house, put its feet up, and proceeded to boss me and my husband around for nearly a month.
COVID-19 recently visited our house and I should’ve checked its pockets before it left. Apparently it took a lot of my brain cells with it. My every attempt at creativity has proven futile.
The other day, I began wondering if, in spite of many time-saving innovations, the lives of women today might actually be as complicated as the lives of women a century ago. For answers, I naturally turned to Google, the online rabbit hole for people like me who were born with too many curio…
My bookshelves aren’t filled with books by Nobel prizewinners, but I did recently come upon a quote by one that caught my attention: “To know how to free oneself is nothing; the arduous thing is to know what to do with one’s freedom.” — André Gide
It’s taken a toll on all but the most resilient or happily oblivious among us, but at long last, the grueling political campaign season may soon be over. The finish line is finally in sight.
We hear a lot these days about being “woke,” which a trendy online dictionary defines as “the act of being very pretentious about how much you care about a social issue.” Now, class, let’s use “woke” in a sentence: “Most people don’t care about how climate change is affecting musk oxen in Gr…