The woman's words were desperate. Her baby was stillborn. She tried to reach her pastor to arrange burial for her infant and for whatever reason could not find him. Struggling with her grief, she called another parish clear across the city.
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The story was a poignant one. Valentine's Day was in the offing and the secular press always assigns some poor soul to call around and find out just how much a bunch of red roses costs, what is the newest in designer chocolates this year, which restaurants were offering romantic meals (menus included).
Growling snow blowers. Squealing grader blades. Screaming tires trying to rock and roll their way out of ice ruts. Blasting horns as some poor sod slides over an ice patch. Snarling wind.
She pushes the curtains open with her black nose and stares out onto the snow-covered garden. Golden eyes dart as house sparrows, juncos, maybe a shy brown creeper flit amongst the feeders and bark buttered branches.
Change rankles me. It can be the most unusual thing that sets my nights into nightmare drama.
Halloween is hitting the headlines this year. Now for some, it is because of religious reasons. Halloween has always been hexed right off their calendar.
They're back. To the right. To the left. Behind. In front. Yes, election signs with names we know, names we have never heard of, scatter the landscape, signaling it's civic and school board election time.
The wisdom of a child. Such a wisdom allows a four-year-old to confront a terrorist rampaging through a Kenyan shopping centre, telling him, "You are a bad man." Such courage.
Tim was only six. But he had a mighty serious heart problem. It was at a time when the surgery Tim needed was not done in Alberta.
Too much. It's just too much. Tragedy knocks on our door morning, noon and night. Floods. Massive train derailments incinerating people, homes, lives.