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The Shape of Wind, by Lucinda Nelson Dhavan |
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The color of water, the shape of wind—if everyone thought of God in those terms and realized how far beyond human senses and ownership God must be, many of the feelings that divide us would be harmlessly blown away.
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Summer Wind, Summer Leaves, by Lydia Fazio Theys |
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When I was in college, railing against the Vietnam War, painting signs for Earth Day, and arguing for causes like international understanding, I thought these ideas were mine. I thought the furor of my generation was a wind generated by our own thoughts and new notions. Later, I saw that our leaves had been rustling in the wind of our elders' ideas.
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| Paper Shoes, by Kay Sexton |
There are scores of ways we can distance ourselves from creativity. We can use novel writing software, or digitally enhanced images, or studio mixing systems the size of compact cars. But when it comes down to it—if we are to make anything of value to ourselves—we have to walk through fire and water in paper shoes.
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| It's the Humidity, by Diane E. Dees |
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In south Louisiana, we often use the expression, "It's not the heat; it's the humidity." People who have never lived in a sub-tropical or tropical climate cannot fully grasp the paralyzing effects of humidity, but I can assure everyone—it is impressive.
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| A Little Action in Church, by Susan M. Henderson |
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In church today, I intercept this note: "I like snots." There's a picture that goes with it: a stick figure guy picking his nose. One of my sons drew it on the Prayer Request card and passed it to the other, but now they're sitting up straight and won't tell me who drew it.
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| Get Your Boob On, by Leigh Hughes |
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Let me just start by saying this: I hate my tits. They sag, they droop, the nipples point way more south than they should. I keep thinking maybe it means that rain's a-comin', but I just checked my Farmer's Almanac and, alas, no mention of southerly nipples being a rain gauge.
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| I Love You–Lucky Me, by David Coyote |
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Love is a message to which we should attend. Its strength cannot be ignored. Love, maybe more than anything else, has kept me alive.
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