Fools Gold
By Susannah Wollman
I'm on my knees. How do I treat the gift that I've surrendered to God? I've surrendered several things, and I think I know how to do that part. What I don't seem to know is what to do after I've surrendered them. My struggle with my weight is a case in point. Okay, it's His. But I still have to eat.
Making Canoes
By Susannah Wollman
I spent the day making canoes. Well, I guess to be more accurate, I’d have to say half-canoes. And while that might seem a bit confusing, it’s only because you’ve never met my friend Angie.
A Passion Denied
Written By Julie Lessman
Reviewed By Donald James Parker
Julie Lessman is a master (or should I use the term mistress) of taking her readers on an emotional rollercoaster ride. Her characters, despite the fact she has so many of them involved in the story, come alive as real people and not caricatures gilded with religious veneer. The extended Connor family members are normally admirable but not flawless people. They try to cling to God, but the common struggles all humans must deal with in the areas of pride and passion never stray far from their door. The exposé of pride and its damaging effects is one of the highlights of this book. I would hazard a guess that pride has killed more marriages than lust. Julie does a great job of convincing her readers that if they want precious love to last, pride must be laid aside so the spouse can come astride and peace can abide. (Sorry, I just had a poetic moment). At times I was provoked enough to want to slap one of the characters on the side of the head and tell them to wake up and smell the Irish coffee. I had to keep telling myself, this is just a book.
The Love of God
By Brenda Jackson
To what can you compare the love of God? Should we dare to compare it to the love of our life? Or even with the love a mother has for her child? We dare not! God’s love holds no bars to any love that anyone has experienced.
Letting Go of the Prodigal Child
By Robi Ley
His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists, a sure sign of a forthcoming tantrum from the volatile child I love so much. The trouble was, he was a twenty-seven year old man and I had just told him that his lifestyle was unacceptable to me and he could no longer live in my home. This was a hard moment as I faced off with my son who insisted on pursuing a relationship with a married woman and was angry that I didn’t support his choice of girlfriend. His anger was fed, I know, by guilt. He knew the relationship was wrong. He admitted it was wrong, and yet he refused to break it off.
