The Love Game

“I love you more than vanilla ice cream with hot fudge,” my friend will say to his daughter to which she will reply, “and I love you more than kisses from a puppy.” Instead of sharing the usual I love you they share in this lighthearted game. Each time trying to top what the other person has named. Not in a competitive way, but as a playful expression of the depth of love they share. God plays this game with us, too. He gives us a breathtaking sunrise then whispers in our ear, “See this? I love you more than that.” He sends someone into our life with an unexpected blessing and then whispers again, “I love you more than that.” God’s love is so great there is no way we could have ever comprehended unless He sent Jesus to die so there would be no doubt.
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I Heard What You Said

Late to get out the door with her brood of four children, my friend “Wanda” shooed them and shoed them.

“Brittany, get your shoes on right this minute!” Mom Wanda grabbed her keys, purse, and errand list plus snacks, sippy cups, and diapers for the littlest one, expecting four-year-old Brittany to slip into her Velcro shoes and fall in line behind her.
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Ears to Hear

Not long ago I was working on my laptop, and I had the strangest thought. It’s been a long time since I did a full backup of my data. I’d better do that. I know I should do regular backups, but it’s something I often don’t think about until after the computer is shut down for the night. So it had been several months since my last one. I responded to the nudge and backed up all my critical data.
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Help Is On The Way

Last night an ambulance barreled down our quiet cul-de-sac at two in the morning. Bright lights whirling around, illuminating bits and pieces of the neighborhood. When the hues of orange and yellow lit up the faces of family, I detected concern. They witnessed their loved one wheeled out on a gurney, strapped in and curled up on her side. What could the problem be? Maybe she was severely dehydrated from a bout with a stomach virus or perhaps she had a fall down the stairs. All I was left to do was pray, so pray I did.
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The Real Thing

By Cheri Cowell

My mother’s favorite dessert is banana pudding. Now if the only banana pudding you’ve had is the kind made with vanilla pudding, you have not had real banana pudding. For my mother’s birthday I made the real kind of banana pudding: scalded milk, egg yolks, sugar, and vanilla over a double broiler, layered with the bananas and wafers, topped with a meringue. It tastes nothing like the vanilla pudding version. Looks like it, but doesn’t taste like it. Real and sincere love is like that. The counterfeit version looks like it from a distance, but doesn’t measure up.
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