by Marie | Aug 30, 2025 | Archives, Inspiration
he’s only 4’11,” but she makes eye contact with everyone she passes. Heads nod politely and smiles are returned. She barely weighs 100 pounds, but she is noticed in a crowd. She is soft-spoken and has the tiniest handwriting I’ve ever seen, but she communicates a powerful message, making a difference to one person at a time. What if every family had an Auntie Alpha? Though never married, she loves more purely than some couples. Though never a mother, she nurtures from a deep well. Though she lives alone, she befriends strangers within minutes. Though in her 90s, she has the optimism of a 20-year old; her childlike excitement leaves no room for crotchety complaints from herself or anyone else. What if every family had an Auntie Alpha? Some years ago, Auntie Alpha visited us for a few weeks. Transplanted from metropolitan New York City to rural Illinois for a month, she won the hearts of our friends, the children in our church, and even the Walmart clerk. When the clerk greeted her with a broad smile exclaiming, “Oh hi! I remember you from last week! Are you still enjoying your visit?” I realized there was something unique about Auntie Alpha. Of all the hundreds of people through his lane, why did she stand out? What did she give the clerk that
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by Marie | Aug 29, 2025 | Archives, Inspiration
He was the Richest Man in the Valley. There was no disputing it. Secure and confident, he was escorting his house guests to their expensive cars, when John, his gardener, cap in hand, approached him to give him a message. The man was poor and shabbily dressed and looked embarrassed to be talking to the Richest Man in the Valley. He shuffled from one foot to the other. “Well, out with it, man,” his employer snapped impatiently, his eyes on his departing guests. “Sir,” John stuttered. He was obviously very nervous. “Sir—I know this sounds mighty strange, but I had a dream last night that really upset me. I dreamt that the Richest Man in the Valley would die tonight at midnight! You all right, sir?” he finished lamely, feeling exceptionally stupid. His boss stared at him. John was all right as gardeners go. He worked hard and was honest and trustworthy, but the Richest Man in the Valley was aware that he attended the little evangelical church in the village and was one of those “born-again Christians.” He’d never had much time for religion himself, always felt too much church made you a little weird. John’s words confirmed his suspicions! “You don’t need to worry about me, John,” the Richest Man in the Valley said impatiently and cheerfully, turning on his
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by Marie | Aug 28, 2025 | Archives, Inspiration
Greyfriars Kirk (Church) in central Edinburgh, the capital city of Scotland, dates back to 1602. It was in the pews directly in front of the old pulpit of this kirk that in 1638 the Scottish Covenanters signed a document – some of them in their own blood – that sent tremors throughout Scotland and England and, eventually, around the world. The Scots had no great love for the king, his bishops, and the Episcopal Church. They much preferred their own brand of government; elected elders, and Presbyterianism. The document they signed fired the first salvo in the struggle that degenerated into the Three Nations War – and the founding of the Presbyterian church. The beautiful old churchyard surrounding the old kirk was at one time a prison for more than 1,200 Covenanters held “at His Majesty’s pleasure” – but not at the Scots’! Given the history of church and churchyard, it is no surprise to see crowds of tourists thronging the area. What is surprising is the reason that most of them are there. It’s not ecclesiastical history for the most part! In the mid-nineteenth century the area around Greyfriars Church was patrolled by an Edinburgh policeman called John Gray. A well known and highly respected figure in the neighborhood, his constant companion was a wiry little Skye Terrier called
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by Marie | Aug 27, 2025 | Archives, Inspiration
In my first conscious moment after the accident, I knew it was bad news. Would I even survive? At age twenty, I hoped to do a whole lot more living before I checked out. I had been living life to the fullest over the weekend in San Diego. Along with my cousins, I took in the sights, shopped, sunbathed on the beach, and visited with my aunt. We weren’t the drinking, carousing kind, but too much of even wholesome fun can get you in trouble. After twenty-four hours with no sleep, I was in no condition to start driving home to Phoenix, Arizona. At the hospital, doctors were surprised that I had made it. My neck was broken in three places. “If she lives, she’ll be paralyzed from the neck down,” one doctor told my parents. I required a complicated procedure to restore my neck to proper position. During a long recovery period, I would have to remain immobile. It would be some time before I could expect to return to normal, if ever. In addition to my grim prognosis, the hospital separated me from family and friends. My parents could come to stay with me only on the weekends. How could I occupy the time? Once I settled into a routine, I began receiving mail. When a large bouquet
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by Marie | Aug 26, 2025 | Archives, Inspiration
See you on the other side, Sis.” These were some of my brother Randy’s final words as we held each other, crying, knowing we probably wouldn’t see each other again this side of heaven. It was heartbreaking to let go of each other. I wanted to keep him a little longer. It was strange to start the New Year with such profound loss, but what a way for my brother to enter eternity: new body, no pain, no sorrow, in the presence of his Lord. Randy and I were five years apart and had opposite approaches to life. He was “the scrapper” who wouldn’t be pushed around. I was the older sister, “the pleaser,” who wanted to avoid confrontation. “Live under the radar so no one will notice” was my unspoken motto. We grew up in a neighbourhood filled with children whose fathers had returned from World War II, many with physical and emotional injuries. They were hardworking men trying to get back to normal. Our dad had grown up during the Great Depression. He moved west at 17 after graduating from a small high school in a tiny coal-mining town. To assure that he would never be poor or hungry again, he educated himself and worked constantly. Our mother, an only child, had been one of the lucky few whose
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