Vacations can add many experiences to our lives–some challenging, as I wrote about in my previous post, and some beautiful, to be treasured forever. After two weeks in the Scottish Highlands, Chris and I relocated to the Lowlands. We rented a cottage near the city of Dunfermline, about twenty miles from Stirling. Our new home was a half mile down a dirt road, on the outskirts of the village of Powmill, centrally located between Glasgow and Edinburgh. “The city of…
Vacations can add many experiences to our lives–some challenging, as I wrote about in my previous post, and some beautiful, to be treasured forever. After two weeks in the Scottish Highlands, Chris and I relocated to the Lowlands. We rented a cottage near the city of Dunfermline, about twenty miles from Stirling. Our new home was a half mile down a dirt road, on the outskirts of the village of Powmill, centrally located between Glasgow and Edinburgh. “The city of…
“Do I need to fly back home to see my oral surgeon?” I rubbed my jaw, gently massaging my throbbing tooth. “We’ve only been in Scotland two weeks, and we have a whole month left of our holiday.” My husband looked up from his laptop where he sat across from me at the kitchen table in our brightly lit cottage near Loch Ness. “Everything will work out. We’ll find you a dentist and get you taken care of.” His fingers…
I slam my history book closed, slide it into my desk, and head to the doorway of our seventh-grade classroom. Looking back, I spy my friend Eileen putting her books away, so I wait. When she joins me, we stroll down the long, bright hall. The late-afternoon sunlight streams through open windows that line the right-hand wall of the single-story school building for missionary kids in Nigeria. “I’m so tired of all my classes.” Eileen rubs her forehead as we…
This painting and poem popped up in my Facebook feed last week, and I cried when I read the poignant words. The poetry expresses how I quietly missed my mom and dad every day for the first four years at boarding school. I mentally changed a few words in the poem to reflect a school day at Kent Academy (KA), but the author’s loneliness touched my emotions … and my tear ducts. Whom have you missed in the past, or…
The warm tropical sun beat down on the tarmac of the playground outside the classroom window. I couldn’t seem to focus on my schoolwork. I wish I were outside playing in the sand under the shade of the big mango tree. December was the dry season in Nigeria. The voice of my first-grade teacher in our boarding school for missionaries’ children jolted me out of my daydream. “This is the month we celebrate the birth of our Savior, Jesus. Let’s…
Happy Thanksgiving to my friends and family in the US, and Happy Holidays to all of you around the world. I’m blessed to have each of you as a friend. This month, I have much to be thankful for. (Not the least of which is that I’ve recently learned it’s acceptable to end a sentence with a preposition!) Our annual writers’ conference was scheduled for the beginning of November, near Sacramento, but since I had broken my kneecap, I wasn’t…
During the last thirty days… My mom’s memoir was published, Our daughter got married, I hosted two garden tea parties, Fractured my knee (again), Then canceled our annual neighborhood tea, and… This is apparently my 100th post! In January 2018, I created a website where I could post short devotions sharing what I learned as I searched for God’s involvement in my daily activities. Coincidentally, a month later, I received a prompt to write several vignettes about my childhood as…
This is a quick note to say my mom completed her memoir and it’s coming soon. Addendum: It’s here! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DJDVHW47?ref_=pe_93986420_774957520 Over the past ten years, Marcella (Marcy) Jones has carefully crafted her memoir. In the book, she shares details about their thirty years in Nigeria. It’s being published through Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) and will be available on Amazon as a soft-cover and an eBook. Here’s a sneak preview of the back cover: Growing up on a farm in California’s…
This week, Chris and I flew to Canada to celebrate my 65th birthday. For the past few days, I’ve been telling my friends that I’m now officially “old” and that makes all my complaints legitimate! Seriously, I don’t feel a year over thirty-five. And I’m quite possibly just 2/3 through my life–and with all the medical advances every year, I might live until I’m ninety-five. So, I’m doing my best to keep healthy and thankfully am recovering from my tibia…