“There’s still hope,” I say, to the quivered old hag, “I will find your long needle so you may mend my old hat.”
She nods and she grins–that broad toothy grin–and she weaves at the spindle till I bring her a pin.
“‘Tis not a needle,” she says quiet and grim. “Go find me a needle with a hole in the end.” Continue reading
As I listened to the song “Grace Wins Every Time” by Matthew West, there was one particular line that really struck me: “There’s a war between guilt and grace// And they’re fighting for a sacred place.” That means that guilt, the destroyer of hope, is waging battle against grace, the source of hope, to try to win the most sacred part of us. Because we are all created in the image of God, we were created to be holy and sacred in our hearts. Continue reading
An excerpt from a novel I wrote when I was twelve and thirteen.
The train jolted. She woke up from the pleasant dream. Looking at the train clock, it appeared that several hours had passed by. And outside the window she saw the sun slowly setting in the west. She had slept practically the whole day!
From the window she could see the train was rumbling over a tall bridge that hung over a dazzling canyon.
The train started to sway. Continue reading
I had heard about him before, about his loyal disciples, strange parables, and mostly of his extraordinary miracles. He was all that everyone talked about nowadays. My father, a synagogue leader, talked about him more than most. Father claimed that this man was the Messiah, the Son of God, the King who would come to save us from our sins. Mother, on the other hand, called the whole thing a bunch of nonsense. Continue reading