I love you. Someone once said. No you don’t. I said.
I love you. Someone said again. Don’t say that unless you know what that means.
I love you? Someone asked. And I wondered about the law of love.
Category Archive: Cindy Koch
He heard it a million times from his mom; son of God, born of a virgin. When he was younger, he did not really know what all those words meant. Everyone was nice to him and he had a special place when they went to temple. He remembered the old men looking at him with tears in their eyes, and the widows would touch his little shoulder when he walked by. They told him that he was born of the Spirit, and there was much he would do in his lifetime. When he was little, he tried to imagine what it was he would get to do.
How can a word save you? It can steer away from harm and danger. It can encourage and inspire to do the right thing. It can tell you where to walk and how to live. A word can be a sweet comfort or a stern warning. It can speak of truth in a world of darkness. A word can speak of salvation, if only you can grasp it.
Just this morning, he heard something terrible. Life changing. Sickening. The path that he had focused so steadily […]
There are moments when the things my children say take me totally off guard. Listening to the sweet little voices coming from their young mouths yet hearing something totally unexpected and shocking. Most of these times it gives me opportunity to reflect on my parenting and try to discover where they learned such a thing. Sometimes we all need a little gut-check upon realizing how our children are piecing together the world. For me, today was that very occasion.
The evergreen dresses in her stunning Christmas sparkles. Ginger and cinnamon waft from the warm Christmas oven. The family gathers close to the bright Christmas fire, but a guilt-ridden question hangs over our head. Carols sing sweetly in the white Christmas cold. Little toys hang from the tall Christmas tree. Candles and friends and family light up the dark Christmas evenings. But, somewhere in the middle of Christmas wreaths and gingerbread houses, we struggle with the Santa Claus conundrum. Should our Old Jolly Friend visit our Christian household on that blessed Christmas Eve?
Pins and needles deep inside, slicing and stabbing as each second passes. There is no comfortable way to lay down anymore, every angle tingles with pain. She cringles from muscle cramps, from the frozen positions she calls relaxation. Her mind will not stop. Her eyes will not close. Waiting. Watching.
She wondered how long she had been there. It started to feel like a long time only because her feet began to ache. But she could not stop her endless march down the shiny laminate paths. One foot plodded in front of the other as she tried not to count her steps. She was not even looking around anymore. It was a losing battle trying to ignore the monotony of every stride. Too long, she thought. But what else can I do?
Chatter and aching Building and breaking Too deep to find, detect or settle Shouting and hushing Constructing and […]
Evening dawned. The red sky faded to purple, to black. The artificial light from the quiet little room […]
He fumbled with the pages flipping back and forth, trying to find the little black letters that synced with what he recited in his head. Focusing almost too hard, he could not quite catch up to where everyone else seemed to be, because he could not concentrate. Little monsters behind his eyes swayed his attention from the songs of praise filling his ears, to her exposed ankle just beyond his reach, to an unfamiliar word in the heavy book that weighted his hands, to the breath of perfume far enough away which he could not quite savor.
It must have been hot and muggy that afternoon, walking down to the river Jordan. Dirt scratching between their toes and thirst cracking their sunburnt lips. The tour guide raised his toasted arm again over the heads of the crowd, to direct the exhausted stragglers on the right path. A few older women sat down on a rock, complaining about how long this was taking, and what else they should have done this morning.
There are too many things that a mother must worry about when raising her children. Food, clothing education, self-esteem, friends, physical activity, bad influences, good grades. But there is one thing that outweighs all of the little things that may keep her up at night. And strangely enough, many parents don’t give it a second thought.
Cobblestone over cobblestone. Pacing steadily over the settled dirt of a thousand, maybe a million other sandals. Cracks filled up by particles of beach, mountain and desert, pressed deep into wrinkles the of this ancient street. My own black shoe powdered with the remnants of another world, stirred for a moment by every step I take. Smoky ashy remnants of a sudden volcanic eruption, withering olive leaves rotting in a quiet garden, pulverized rubble of a temple where God once dwelt. Dull, chalky, dirty history walking along the path with me, on me, part of me during my short morning walk.
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore, we will not fear though […]
Unsure and afraid, nothing had been constant in her life. It was just a matter of getting through the day without having any great expectations. Long ago, during her pigtail years, her father promised to come and take her to the zoo. After hours of watching for his scratched and beaten blue Honda out of the front window, her young hopes were bruised.
“Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way […]
By Cindy Koch – Just a scroll through Pinterest, and that was all it took. I was simply […]
By Cindy Koch – It is a happy day when I taste a California Strawberry. For years, even […]
By Cindy Koch – Sound asleep. A squeal that I barely heard from the back corner of a […]