My granddaughter will be going to kindergarten this fall, which brings to mind one of my favourite pieces of writing. I wish I’d written it. All I really Need to Know I Learned In Kindergarten (a guide for Global Leadership)All I really need to know about how to live and what to do and how […]

Friday night. Going home. My entire focus was on a mindless moving toward the goal–home. I could do that commute in my sleep, and sometimes did. Even though I had to work Saturday, there was something special about Friday night, and I couldn’t wait for it to begin. As I exited the subway, a scene

My father, Luffey Everson(affectionately known as Bubbawhen he became a grandfather)on his birthday in 1985. Bill Peachman, on the day of Benjamin’s dedication in 1986.  Ben is in his arms, Ruth is beside him and Rebekah  beside her. In the blue dresses  are my nieces Sarah (curly hair)  and Shannon. It’s hard to be a father. Or a mother.

God is usually gentle with me. A nudge, a reminder, a word, and I listen. Occasionally, however, He needs to grab me by the shoulder, look me in the eye and say, “What the heck are you thinking?” There are times I need to go to the woodshed. I had one of these times in

I was such a doll person as a little girl. Maternal instinct poured out of me, and every one of my dolls was coddled and comforted and treated like gold. I remember a “Tiny Tears” doll (if you know what I’m talking about, I know how old you are.) with curly brown hair that was

Have you ever stubbed your toe? Had a paper cut become infected? Come down with the stomach flu? Whatever it is, when one part of my body isn’t working correctly, I become acutely aware of it. I try desperately to protect that toe or infected finger from further bumps, and I’m profoundly relieved when the bug passes.

I was baking cookies with residents the other day, when one of the ladies who lives in our apartments waved at me. We had become friends during the years of difficult experiences in her life–the dementia, decline and eventual death of her precious husband. It had been over a year, and she was slowly rebuilding

One weekend about a year after I became a widow, a friend and I were watching the first four movies in the “Love Comes Softly” series. Based on the bestselling books by Janette Oake, Clark and Marty meet on a wagon train going out west. Marty’s husband has just been killed in an accident. She

Imagine a world of Weebles. Rotund little wooden creatures to are weighted on the bottom, sothey wobble, but don’t fall over. Weebles have painted bodies indicating their careers, butminimal facial expression. As they go about their daily activities, they wobble, and may bumpinto each other, but they turn away and keep going. Weebles don’t communicate.I’ve

                                                      I know adventurous people. They get an adrenalin rush from hanging off the CN tower or skydiving or facing sharks. They are always looking for new adventures. The