Greetings to all my socially-distant readers. We are now well into our pandemic coping skills. Most of the shock of our jostled, new lives has worn off and, for the most part, we’ve stopped asking the question, “Is this really happening?”

Easter has always been a reflective time for me—a time when I let the sacrifice of the cross and its compelling love resonate in my thoughts and sink deep into my soul.

A few years back, when my grandchildren were all quite young, we experienced a cold and flu season that seemed relentless. No sooner would one child recover from an infection than the next would be socked with it. This went on for months!

My husband's mom passed away this evening. The last of his parents gone from this earth and into the presence of Jesus. She is home now after 88 years of living life...marrying a man of faith, raising four boys, and cooking for multitudes with a generous heart.  

My children have come home with their families for Christmas. Once again our house is filled with bustle and energy. The rafters are brimming with noise; squeals of joy, decibels of laughter, and an occasional short-lived squabble between grandchildren. There is a contagious energy