“April showers bring May flowers,” or so says the nursery rhyme from my childhood. But here in Lakeside, where I now live, this is not the case.
Because my heart is weary.
Because the angel of death is singing
and dancing on the rooftops.
Because my words are only words
and lies have become
the normal currency.
My friend Joni Eareckson broke her spine in 1977, a swimming accident. Completely paralyzed, she no longer could use hands, arm or legs.
The last vestiges of day had fled. The rich spicy aroma of recently trimmed hedges of rosemary permeated the warm evening air.
I first visited Lake Chapala in 1997, when I came down with friends to compete in the Mexican National Chili Cookoff, capably captained by Ann Whiting.
I’ll never forget it. It was our senior year. My high school had a tradition. We held an annual male beauty pageant—it was a satire of real beauty pageants
Don Beaudreau discusses the importance of trees, “The sacredness of trees is deeply rooted in religious conceptualization in early humanity. This concept is based on the fundamental idea of the unity of life in nature.”
Bernice awoke with the early morning sun. Tingling all over and squirming with excitement, she jumped out of bed, ran to the window, and drew the curtains.
A few years ago, my wife and I took a trip to Guatemala. It was more like a pilgrimage. It was during Holy Week.
On an early spring morning, when the day was just dawning,
And the air was as still as a pond,