“Mom, you know what Zoltar said?” “Who’s Zoltar, Jimmy?” “He’s the guy in the machine at the arcade.” “You down there again? Didn’t I tell you and your friends to go play baseball. A little dirt and sweat is good for you.” “Aw, Mom, we’re just hanging out, we ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong.” “Maybe so,…
In his current state, it might take years for Vic to recover his right mind. He’s been flaying around and mumbling the whole time in the back seat of my car. His mind, no longer aware of surroundings, seemed to be in a state of virtual reality. And that is the reason for the all-night…
The account of my neighbor Mr. Jones . . . Just yesterday I saw a van pull into our apartment building parking lot. The van was white with big block letters on the side: COMMUNITY CARE. And beneath, Wellness Starts and Ends with You! Above the van was a swarm of police helicopters. Five figures…
The following took place during my thirteenth year . . . A week before Christmas Day, a gaggle of us self-conscious teenagers loaded into three cars. We headed to Elgin State Hospital, formerly called the Northern Illinois Hospital and Asylum for the Insane. Our church’s youth group leader had decided that, in the spirit of Christmas,…
a short story … On a street known as Artifact Row, in the historic district of Langford, D&D Antiques offered vintage collectibles. The owners, Dale and Doris, lived in the small apartment above the shop. Per the rules of the town’s preservation committee, the shops and cafés of Artifact Row were required to maintain their…
How could I forget the passing of my father and mother? My father had become terribly sick. My mother cared for him day and night and soon became sick herself. I cared for both until they died days apart. How could I forget those days of loss and the burden put on me at…
Daybreak. The village of Bethsaida. The air is hot and dry and still. And something is astir. Jesus has come to the “house of fishing”. You hurry down to the shore of the Sea of Galilee. Your husband and his brother have been fishing long before daybreak. You carry with you a clay jar…
September, 2019 My Dear Agnus, I may be among the last of those who write letters. Handwriting is personal and so I hope my words will be received not as the words of a deacon, but as your brother. The last time I saw you Agnus, at the funeral for Nicholas, I perceived bitterness behind…
Kingdom Venturers 