My friend Yvonne is not a swimmer. 

She’s tried to learn, but she’s still a bit uncomfortable in the water.

Maybe that’s why I did my best to get her wet the other day when we all ended up down at the river.

            

“Come on in!” I called out to her as she safely watched us from a rock over on the riverbank.

My girls and I cheered her on as she bravely made her way into the waist-deep water. It was easy to see the rocky bottom, so I think Yvonne was okay with it – until we started to see the fish!

While we were looking, somehow two of my children thought it would be a good idea to test out the current as it rippled speedily over some rocks nearby. And I barely noticed them until my youngest cried out ...

By Debra Torres
A herd of sheep gently grazed on the side of the road as my friend Gustavo’s cycling group rolled to a stop.

Touring Italy, they had just completed a long, mountainous climb and now, after a small descent, they were arriving at the famous breathtaking display of wildflowers the Italians call Fioritura.


It was just a small break for the touring group of experienced cyclists so they 


could take in the vibrant beauty of the region. 

But for Gustavo, it will be one that he will remember all his life.

Gustavo had carefully chosen this cycling tour of Italy for its challenging heights and distance. It was just the thing he wanted to accomplish before hitting the age of 45.

It was the Giro D’ Italia – a 750-mile bike tour in just 15 days where cyclists visited seven regions of Italy and climbed a total of 51,000 feet vertically. 

Gustavo’s lifelong desire to be a professional cyclist had been squelched long ago by an illness. And to him, this trip was a second chance. An opportunity to accomplish a challenging tour among talented athletes that would push him to the limit. 

It was time to rediscover himself. But surprisingly enough, it was a little lamb that taught Gustavo his biggest life lesson on the trip.

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When I first met my husband, I wasn’t attracted to him at all. He was nearly ten years older than me and sported a full beard. 

And when he began pursuing me, I hid – literally.

I was working with our campus newspaper back then and my husband knew just when and where I spent the bulk of my time. So often, he would show up while on some “errand” or another for his job.

 I remember seeing the back of him in the hallway one day and decided to act fast and lose him, knowing that sooner or later he’d show up in my office for a “visit.”

And so I hightailed it down a back corridor and onto a secluded balcony where students and newspaper staff were busy on the computers.

Phew … I would be safe hidden back there until he left the building.

Or, so I thought. ...

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By Debra Torres
Claudia said she didn’t take Joyce’s stuffed animal. 

It wasn’t hers, so what would she have to do with it? 

Again and again she denied that she took it, but when we challenged her to open her square, metal lunchbox, 



I’m sure we probably gasped at what was inside.

Joyce’s toy.

It was 1973 and I was in second grade. And even though I was only 7, I can still see the tormented look on Claudia’s face when her peers caught her in the act.

A lying tongue cuts both ways.

In my devotions this morning, I read that we are responsible to teach our children about lying and why it is wrong. And it also said that we should use God’s Word to do it.

This challenged me to do a little digging, because you know what? As parents and grandparents, I think we often do a disservice to the young ones who are watching us. Can you guess what it is?

We Lie.

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The little Indigo Bunting looked half dead as it lay on the flagstones in front of our house.

This wasn’t the first time a bird had hit one of our windows and, knowing the drill, my daughters and I rushed to the rescue. 

With three barn cats claiming our property as their hunting grounds, we knew that the little stunned bird didn’t stand a chance if spotted.

I found our old birdcage and with the help of my girls, we laid “Chester” on top of some newspapers inside.

Usually a stunned bird will take a few minutes to recover, and I could tell that Chester was about ready to be released when I heard a series of chirps coming from the cage and he began to flutter around.

I was just about to bring the cage outside when Chester did a surprising thing. 

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By Debra Torres
The mouse that frequented the counter space behind my toaster must have enjoyed the buffet of forgotten breadcrumbs we provided it – because it kept coming back.

And, judging from the “presents” it left for us, I knew it was telling me that it was enjoying its stay.

But I wasn’t.

Each time I saw evidence of that mouse, I’d remove everything from the counter and clean it with a good antibacterial spray. I knew from the get go that mouse needed to leave.

So, I asked my husband to do the deed, and he worked as humanely as possible placing a bit of peanut butter in a trap that would capture the mouse but not kill it.

He placed the trap back where the toaster had been, and we hoped for the best.

But the trap that had caught many a mouse already for us was no match for this toaster mouse.    

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