Twenty-five with 25 Years’ Experience

By Susan Dollyhigh –

Yet, O LORD, you are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand. Isaiah 64:8 (NIV)

Reaching the big Five-Oh! was like a heavy-weight boxing champion hitting me smack in the face. I didn’t stress over being 30. I didn’t sink into a deep depression when I turned 40. But 50—that’s a half-century! Read more

Pass It On

By Susan Dollyhigh

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. – 2 Corinthians 1:3-4(NIV)
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No Room For A Snake In The House

By Susan Dollyhigh    

Who put a rubber snake in here? The ugly, scaly, black thing lying in the hallway was coiled with its head up just a bit. Even so, I kept a good distance as I leaned over to take a closer look. About that time, the rubber snake must have seen me because it slithered off towards the kitchen.

Thankfully, my two-year-old granddaughter, Katelyn, who hadn’t learned to fear anything, didn’t see the snake. If she had, she would have rushed past me and snatched it up. That could have been the end of Nana. To be on the safe side, I grabbed Katelyn and picked her up. She started yelling and kicking for me to put her down. But I held on firmly as we dashed through the den and another hallway. Holding her tightly, I ran through the living room and out the front door. Crossing the front porch and side yard in record time, my feet barely touched the ground. I bound up the steps to my husband, Danny’s office and threw open the door. My abrupt entrance startled Danny.

I screamed. “There’s a snake in the house!” He shrugged. “Well why didn’t you call me?” Because there was a snake between me and the phone.”

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A Season Of Love

By Susan Dollyhigh

On the third week of Advent, I arrived at the homeless shelter planning to light the third purple candle that symbolizes love. Planning to talk about God’s love for all His children, even His children who feel they don’t deserve to be loved. Planning to assure the residents that they are lovable – that they are loved by their Father’s children and by their Father.

Climbing the stairs leading to the kitchen, I heard little hands clapping and little cherubic voices chanting, “Yeah, Miss Susie’s here! Yeah, Miss Susie’s here!” Arriving at the kitchen door, the two little cherubs sat at the table, eyes glistening and mouths smiling.

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Trading Places

By Susan Dollyhigh

The call came from New Hanover Hospital’s emergency room after the crisis with my three-year-old granddaughter had passed. “Mom, Katelyn’s okay, but we just spent four hours in the ER with her,” I heard my daughter, Emily, say on the other end of the phone line.

Even as relief flooded my mind with the words, “Katelyn’s okay,” panic rushed right in behind it as the second part of the sentence, “four hours in the ER” seeped in.

“It was just awful, Mom. We were at a self check-out at the grocery store. I was scanning our groceries and Katelyn was sitting in the cart with her baby doll. Turning my back to her for just a second, she attempted to climb out of the cart and fell face first to the floor,” Emily said.

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