the fisher of me . . . ?

setnet-siteI have killed more fish in my lifetime than most people even realize exist.

Growing up in the family business of commercial fishing and canning every summer in Alaska, I made my way in the world off the guts and gills of several million pounds of Sockeye, Coho, and Chinook salmon. But the one thing I never did in all those years was stop to think about exactly what I’d put them through. Well, God in His infinite . . . humor? . . . Irony? . . . Okay, fine, wisdom . . . showed me first-hand one pivotal night a decade ago.

Now in order to understand the end (of this particular portion) of the story, there are a few not-so-minor and not-so-painless details that must be shared. To start with . . . READ ON

archaeologist or architect?

bunkerTwo full decades have passed since God revealed that my call into ministry would involve being a writer. While many factors contributed to the failure to launch this call on my life before now, two of the most insidious were a secret addiction and my battle with depression.

Now, few who knew me over the years would have guessed my secret struggles since they . . . READ ON

lost and found

alleyThe following is a creative writing piece that was inspired by an unusual dream:

“Grams, tell us something new about Gramps,” and suddenly four expectant faces were glued on her.

The Memorial Service was over; just the family remained. The “boys” were playing poker in honor of Gramps, while the “girls” were across the room discussing the details of the day.

Carolyn was startled by the abrupt change of subject, but she knew . . . READ ON