Today, I clipped the leash onto Dewey, my most reliable walking partner — he always says yes, he never says no — and coaxed him 4275 steps, according to my iPhone. It was a fruitful walk. I complimented a woman on her purple corduroy pants — wide wale. “Thanks!” she called out, and seemed mildly […]
I am waiting with bated breath for a memoir to arrive in my inbox, written by my father. Working title? My Story by Russell S. Durling. I’ve been a tiny bit coach and a big part cheerleader for my 85-year old dad, as he worked his way through a project he had talked about for
Discouragement over pastors and leaders who fall is weighing heavy on almost everyone I know, especially women. It is a thick, wet fog. A long and depressing bewilderment. I spoke to a good friend the other day, and part of our conversation was groaning in pain over the miserable, latest, greatest, spectacular fall from grace.
Every now and then during church, Brent does something that makes me so uncomfortable that I try not to glance around nervously to see how other people are taking it. (Generally speaking, spouses try not to swivel their heads around to see how things are going…) I’m not referring to his jokes, because usually I’m
The other day the bottom fell out of my bag of pears. If the bag is the flimsy grocery store produce one, light green and very difficult to open once pulled from the roll (especially now that we do not lick our fingers in public), the bottom is likely to fall out if your pears