By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer The first time my California Cowboy visited Greeley, Colorado, his nose told him he’d never live there. Lots of feed lots in that part of the country. “That’s the smell of money,” an old timer said. “You’ll get used to it.” He did. So
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer Conversation hearts – fun, right? How do I love thee? Let me count the misaligned ways that I can’t even read. These colorful little confectioneries exemplify what has happened to a once tender expression of affection and remind me why I’m not a fan
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer My granddaughter helped me bring in firewood one evening, using a cloth shopping bag to carry her load. “I can’t carry the big pieces like you,” she said. “That’s okay,” I told her. “It’s the little pieces that heat up the fire.” Those little
@davalynnspencer Today I’ve asked busy mother and award-winning suspense author Theresa Lynn Hall to share some words of encouragement with us. You can find more information about Theresa and her latest book below. ~ My life has always been filled with kids—even before I had my own.
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer Each morning, my radio comes on at 5:25, set to a Christian music station, and I catch the last five minutes of an inspirational program before the day’s music begins. Sometimes I crawl out of bed immediately. Sometimes I lie there and listen to
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer One morning last week I was reading about Moses arguing with God at the burning bush. (Personality clue there for ole Mose.) God gives him an assignment and Moses gives reasons why he can’t do it. “Yes, you can,” God says. “No, I can’t.”
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer I read a lot of books last year. It’s what I do besides write. I won’t share them all with you today, but I want to mention five that stood out and stayed with me. Four are fiction, one is a biography. They’re not
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer The New Year rises ahead of us like an imposing mountain range. A few of us actually want to scale the high peaks. We’re unable to resist the compelling call of adventure and challenge. Others don’t mind the winding roads that interlace the mountains,
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer Rejoice, whether you celebrate the western interpretation of Christmas or not. Rejoice, for Christ – Messiah – the Word – our Savior became flesh and dwelt among man. Rejoice with those who sing His praises! The link below will take you to one of
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer Last week I visited a local nursing home and overheard an elderly resident making his way out of the television room after a Christmas celebration. “They forgot about Jesus,” he told a passing CNA. “It’s all Santa Claus.” The white-haired fellow shuffled down the hallway
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer I think the flagship song of religious Christmas celebration should be retitled: “O Horrifying Night.” (Before you stop reading to write me a scathing email, think about it.) The whole Nativity scenario is the perfect setup for stress: essential homelessness for a young expectant mother—no
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer A parent of a young child told me last week that this year’s Christmas-tree decorating experience was the best ever. Why? Because the parent discovered that the tree didn’t have to be perfect. At least not in anyone’s eyes but the child’s. Ornaments were
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer “Where is my daddy?” asked my four-year-old granddaughter Sunday morning. “I want to run to him.” This little bundle of energy had bee-line vision for her father, but I gripped her hand tightly. We stood at the edge of the road, about to cross
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer We hear it a lot: “Be grateful.” Other renditions suggest, “Things could be worse.” “You have it better than most.” The Christian-ese phrase I’ve known since childhood says, “In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.” (I
By Davalynn Spencer @davalynnspencer From where I sit by the wood stove on cold mornings, I can see through the kitchen and out the window to the ash trees bordering my neighbor’s property. Stripped by autumn winds, they stand bereft of their fall finery, boney branches scratching the