Tagged JoAnne Kelly


Cantaloupe Wisdom

It was just a quick stop at the grocery store — a hand-basket, produce-department-only kind of stop. I stepped through the doors, grabbed the blue-handled basket from the stack so well positioned by a smart store employee. I’m sure I’m not the only woman who run-walks through a store — it’s an “I know what…


Christmas Favorites: Phil Wickman’s “Songs for Christmas”

My husband Paul introduced me to Phil Wickman. Paul has a pretty awesome job, touring Christian musicians throughout our beautiful country of Canada. It is rare, however, that I tag along. A brief window of opportunity became available last year, and I didn’t waste a minute to pack my overnight bag and head to Quebec…


Woven with Love

My mind often drifted to thoughts of her. A young woman, who though I’d never met, would be linked with me always. I often thought of her as a naïve girl, someone who made a mistake, lived out the consequences, and made a tough choice. But at one time, that was as far as my…


The Teacher’s Mandate

Long red licorice laces were carefully bent into heart shapes on the kitchen table before any little body raced down the stairs for their morning Cheerios. Small brown paper bags all neatly decorated with stickers and filled with goodies were sitting on the counter, ready for the special deliveries that lay ahead. Three young souls…

An Occasion for Flowers

I was in the kitchen chatting on the phone with my sister. Through the window I watched the kids play happily in the backyard. When I heard the screen-door open, I wondered who it could be. “Just a second, Debbie. Hello??” “It’s me. I’m early.” I could hear my husband coming down the hall. Early….


Stretch Marks

Like thousands of other births, the drama and hours of pain ended in the beauty of the emergence of a perfect little body. The real boy from the ultrasound made his appearance in a small hospital with a midwife, and I got to witness my first live birth from a different vantage point. This time…


Eight Years Late

Quickly leaving the Wal-Mart parking lot in my oh-so-ugly peeling-paint light-blue Dodge Caravan, I had the birthday party supplies and seven-year-old in tow. Another eighth birthday-party planning and supply purchasing mission complete. I had done this before. This would be the forth, and the last, eight-year-old birthday party I would ever throw. Breathe. The dark…

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