Cathy's Heart

Soup in the Pantry For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink…Matthew 25:35   “Residents of a local retirement community don’t have enough to eat.  Please, let me know if you would be able to donate soup to help those in need?” Carefully, I read the Facebook post.   My heart skipped-a-beat. My mind flashed back to my grandmother’s house. I was a teenager. My family was on our annual summer visit to Michigan.   I remember, I searched my grandma’s pantry for a snack to eat. Only cans of soup lined her nearly bare shelves. Even as a fourteen year old, I wondered, “were those cans of soup there because that is what she liked to eat? Or, were they the only thing she could afford?”   Then, I thought of my homeless neighbor, Maria. “What do you need? What can I do for you?” I asked through a friend who spoke spanish.   Maria answered simply, “Sopa.”   My friend translated, “She would like soup.” ...

Turning from Worry to Trust Worries, worries go away. Don't come back any day ! Worry! Recently, it has been a frequent nighttime companion. I have learned, over the years, how to contend with this enemy in the daytime. At night, however, I find the battle is more difficult. As I drift off to sleep, a small worry wiggles its way into my dreams, and before I know it, I wake up to find myself consumed with fear, anxiety and alarming dread. I read somewhere that this problem can be a "lovely" by-product of post-menopause. I, for one, am not a fan! However, as God would have it, at just the right time, a dear friend and mentor, Kathy Collard Miller, released her new book,  Partly Cloudy with Scattered Worries.  I'm currently devouring it. Kathy's book is reinforcing my faith and giving me a fresh perspective on familiar, yet powerful, tools and truths to combat my unwelcome nighttime intruder. Kathy is my guest today. I know you will be encouraged by her post. Please ...

Our New Home In July, nearly a year after we began our house hunt, my husband and I finally moved into a new home. It was not any of the houses or communities  I wrote to you about in February . In fact, for a long while, it was a house we would not even consider. Here’s our story: I saw the sign one day, driving through a neighborhood that I had discovered, and fallen in-love with, more than twenty years earlier when we first moved to San Diego. For Sale By Owner: Open House, Sundays 1-4 p.m. I jotted down the address displayed in small black numbers on the front of the pale blue house. Then, I scribbled the phone number written on a shabby sign hanging from a thin metal frame in the front yard. Slowly, I drove past the other quaint, cape-cod style homes, looking for any other For Sale signs. I found none. The following Sunday, I dragged my husband to see the house. As it did not meet much of our criteria, we were in and out of there in a matter of minutes. And, our house hunt con...