_ My daughter’s betta, “Bubbles,” has been doing the “dead man’s float” in his fish tank for a few weeks now.

His once majestic and feathery scarlet fins now lay in a matted heap as he floats on his side at the top of the water.

Thinking he’s a goner, I gently tap on the side of the tank each time I pass. But no, he flaps his little fins in response, letting me know he hasn’t succumbed quite yet.

I drop a few pellets of food down to him near his mouth, and he wildly tries to right himself so he can eat. And sometimes he surprises me by swallowing a few pellets. Surely, he’s trying to hang on.

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_ It was a less than perfect dinner. 

My husband was working late, and we were out of frozen food -- except for chicken nuggets, and I had served those the night before.

So, I tried a new recipe, but it didn’t go over well with my nugget-loving son.


Maybe that's what got the ball rolling.

We should have prayed over Mom before we prayed over the food.

I was exhausted when I finally sat down...

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_ The two small pines sat on my deck for weeks waiting to be planted.

I bought them knowing it would take me a while to get them in the ground, but time stretched on and, you know how it goes – life happens.

The morning after our first snow, I figured it was about time.

Their small branches were weighted down with the heavy, wet stuff, and I knew I needed get digging.

After recruiting one of my sons to help me with the job, we got on our old clothes and trudged out into the weather, ready to dig some serious holes.

As we set about our work: cutting into the thick, wet mud, lowering the heavy trees into the holes and filling them with dirt and pine bark, something began to happen between the two of us...

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The teen boys gathered around the old man as he prepared to spin his yarn.

A request from one of the boys had started it really.

It was a request for a story – the man’s story about a hunting trip, a dark night and a terrible scream.

“A sound like none other,” the man said wide-eyed -- remembering ...

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