I grew up in the 1970′s in a town straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. We walked to school no matter the weather. Summers were filled with games like “Kick the Can” and stick ball and when the street light came on everyone scattered for home. We mowed the lawn and weeded the garden because it was our job. We picked up pennies because you could still buy something with them.

Everyone had chores on Saturday and watching a jet streak through the sky still brought a sense of awe and a feeling of pride that we were Americans. We were spanked by any mother in the neighborhood and never said a word about it to our own mothers because we didn’t want second licking. We gathered for dinner, prayed, and read the Bible as a family. On Sunday, the roads were empty and the churches full. [click here to read more…]


A Mother’s Love

Thumbnail image for A Mother’s Love

I wonder how young Mary felt Holding her newborn Son. Did she feel scared and overwhelmed With all that needed done?   Did she ask how to show her child His Father’s love so true? And help Him know just who He was And what He came to do?   I think each mother looks […]

Read more →

Tilting at Windmills

Thumbnail image for Tilting at Windmills

As a child my father talked about a book called, “Donkey Hotey.” Years later when I discovered Cervantes’ classic for myself and realized who the real “donkey” was. In Don Quixote, the pious – albeit delusional – hero recruits a simple earthy (pun intended) farmer named, Sancho Panza, and together they set out to right the […]

Read more →

Walking Our Own “Road to Emmaus”

Thumbnail image for Walking Our Own “Road to Emmaus”

What we think of as patience may actually be perspective. The ability to see things as they really are gives us the courage to wait upon the Lord even when life takes unexpected turns. The story of the Road to Emmaus illustrates this principle beautifully. Three days after the Savior’s death, two of His disciples […]

Read more →

A Blog by Any Other Name…

Thumbnail image for A Blog by Any Other Name…

My mother is an artist. As the oldest son of an artist, my life has been filled with art. I remember as young boy waking from a bad dream and walking down the hall to the old storage room where my mother painted each night. When I opened the door, she put down her brush, […]

Read more →