I found the huge wooden star one day while walking through the pastures of a farm where we rented.
It rested against a corrugated steel wall
inside one of the farm’s outbuildings.
What was the star doing out in the middle of a cow pasture? I wondered.
Let’s just say I was intrigued.
What I asked my landlord about the star, his tone turned a bit nostalgic as he said, “Oh, Dad used to string lights on that and put it up on the roof every year.”
See, my landlord had grown up in the house where we were living, and I loved to hear sentimental stories like that one.
I quickly asked my landlord right then and there if I could ...
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I was hopeful when I went to the polls on November 6.
Proud to be voting, I made my choices and gladly wore my “I voted” sticker with pride.
I had hope in my heart that our nation would see some changes after this election.
I hoped that America would
recognize the importance of
life and vote in candidates that would help put a stop to the murder of the unborn. The stats were staggering in my Pro-Life Voter Guide – 54 million babies aborted since Roe vs. Wade.
I had hope that our nation would choose candidates who respected that the God-given mandate for marriage is between one man and one woman.
And, I had hoped that a leader would be voted in who would get America working again. I wanted someone who supported small businesses like my own, and who would do all he could to show Americans that a strong work ethic mattered.
You can imagine the crash I experienced on election night.
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The parade stopped right in front of us and the young girls on the dance team got into position.
One, two, three, four, ready set … the music began, the neon shirts began to move and after a few minutes of it, I had to shut my eyes and hang my head.
I couldn't believe what I saw.
Gyrating hips and inappropriate sexual moves abounded. Girls aged 7-14 were “showing their stuff” for all to see. And I saw one mother walking along with them, who was beaming with pride.
You’ve got to be kidding, I thought to myself -- wondering if this was a “go-go girls” dance routine...
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A knock came on my door late one night as I prepared for bed.
“Mom,” a little voice sounded on the other side. “Why doesn’t God love me?”
I hesitated a bit before responding.
This child had been schooled in the reality of God’s love since birth – and even before that.
What in the world was going on in her head? And I asked her why she was feeling this way.
“Well,” came her trembling response. “You told me that God gives sleep to those he loves and I’m still awake. So --- he must not love me.”
I have to admit, I was a little thrown off by her logic. I was glad that she remembered the scripture on sleep that I’ve been drilling into her head, but I was a little confused at her deduction.
Did God’s love for her change just like that?
Was he so fickle, so quick to change his mind ...
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We first started seeing the black and white tomcat sometime in midsummer.
He’d sit in the tall weeds near our barn and run off when we’d get too close.
Jokingly, we called him our calico’s boyfriend and thought nothing of it since all our cats are “fixed.”
But recently, I noted the tom getting a little “chummier” with me. When I’d go out to feed our three females, he’d always be there waiting-- just about five feet away from the door of the barn.
I named him “Tom-Tom” and tried to make friends -- even inviting him to slip into the barn to eat with the “girls.”
But around that same time, I noticed some strange things happening...
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