TheWritePath

                     WHEN MY GRANDSON WAS THREE, every time he came over to spend the day with me, the first thing he wanted to do was get out the building blocks. "Grandma, build a house," he would say, and for the next several hours, we would build one house after another. Om the other hand, his little sister, almost two, had quite a time with the obstacle course created by the spilled blocks. I watched her very carefully trying to get through the maze of blocks, stumbling over even the smallest in her path. He would get mad, and the whole process would start all over again. It was only when he convinced his sister to sit down and help him build that the first house was completed. The three of us sat there for a very long time building houses until there were no more blocks to use. All around us were several little houses, but it was impossible to move without knocking them down! Then Grandpa came in, and the small city of blockhouses we had spent hours building came tumbli

      It was a beautiful afternoon, and I had learned what it was like to pray without ceasing as I looked out upon God's masterpiece and saw my grandmother's quilt of prayer, and as I drove home, I thanked God for the memories I had of seeing her praying for her family and for the legacy she had given to me. As I pulled into my driveway, I could not help but notice all the trees around the wood line near my home were bare, yet they brought a smile to my face and a joy to my heart that is hard to explain, because they reminded me of all the prayers of those, like my grandmother"s, that were offered for me as well as those I had offered for others like my dad, who have now gone to be with the Lord. Like these, their lives have passed from season to season, leaving only memories and the hope of spring. My memories of that day will always remain with me, and one day, I hope to share them with my granddaughter when I pass down her great great-grandmother's quilt and her le

      I looked around the yard of the now-abandoned farm, and I saw a large weeping willow tree that reminded me of how much fun I had playing in the neighbor's willow as a little girl; it became my secret place. It had an arch cut in the branches with a garden arbor placed in the opening and inside there was a white iron table and two chairs, and around the trunk of the tree was a circle bench. The branches had been trimmed to form an inner circle, yet from the outside, you would never know it was there.  I love the way I could hide under its branches and close myself off from the outside, I would spend as much time as possible there, hidden away in the safety of its branches. I thought of my little granddaughter, who has a sweetness about her that seems to always find its way right into my heart. She has such a carefree personality, gentle and delicate as a butterfly dancing from flower to flower. Everything about her is soft and full of life, from her voice to the way her long c

      The woods seemed to be bright with every shade of gold, orange, yellow, and rust from the maple trees, but there was one in particular that stood out from all the others because it had every shade within its branches. The leaves near the top were a bright red which seemed to blend into rust, while others on the same side facing the sun were a vivid orange to soft gold, yet there were still shades of yellow and green that spotted the tree, which brought out its uniqueness. As I was studying it, I began to think or our oldest son. From the time he was a little boy, he never ceased to amaze me. Maybe it was because I did not get to spend much time with him. He lived with his mother and only came to visit a few weeks during the summer, but just before his eighteenth birthday, he came to live with us. Like his father, he was quite, but there always seemed to be brewing just under the surface that undoubtedly would add a little spice to our lives. I remember one day shortly after he ca

      IT WAS A WARM FALL day, and I had decided to take a drive in the country. The beauty of the season was breathtaking with all the rolling hills ripe with the coming harvest and the shades of color that brought the woods to life as it framed each field. Just ahead of me, I could see an abandoned farmhouse. So on an impulse, I pull into the lane just to sir for a minute and look at the view. How beautiful it was, a landscape just waiting to be painted, but in my heart, I knew its inner message could never be captured on canvas. If we could fly overhead like the birds, we would see the touch of the Master's hand as He created this priceless heirloom to be handed down from generation to generation, a quilt of human history to be cherished by all who saw it, as endless as words written in the pages of our hearts long after the writer was gone. Only this was God's masterpiece, as unforgettable as it was timeless, written in the pages of our hearts, and to be read throughout eter

     Only this time it was different. For one thing, I had changed churches and was beginning to grow in the Lord, and a few members my church family had shared with me that the Lord had impressed upon their heart to pray for me, and they had asked if I was alright, so I took a step of faith and once again asked for prayer. Within a few weeks, I pulled out of the depression and began to stabilize! I'm not saying ie was easy or that it will never happen again, but through it, I learned a valuable lesson: nothing can separate me from the love of God, and when we are too weak to stand alone, that's when He calls upon those of like faith to help support us. You see child of God, up until this point, I was standing in the way. I had allowed my pride to keep me from asking for prayer because I felt I had been rejected and misunderstood, so I determined within myself to stand alone in this battle.     Remember in the book of Exodus when Moses sent Joshua into battle with the Amalekite

    I have thought of that day many times and wondered and wondered how I could have been so afraid of a pile of a constructed medal. The only power it had over me to generate fear had been created in two ways---first by the man pilling the switch, and second was within my own mind. As much as I hated to admit it, as I stood in line, I fed those fears by allowing my imagination to cause me to lose all sense of reasoning Consumed by my own fears and pride, I had allowed myself to be drawn in by what I believed to be its power. Even harder to admit was the fact that I did not want to appear afraid in front of my grandchildren, so I put up this false front of strength---not to conquer my fear, but to give in to my pride. I thought of the times in my Christian walk when I had done this very thing because I did not want to appear as showing a lack of faith in the eyes of my brothers and sisters in the Lord. I would suffer through times of great trial without seeking their support in prayer.

    As I sat there, a grandchild on each side, I offered them my empty words of encouragement, checked to see that all were securely buckled in, and told them to hold on tight. As we began to move, their arms stretched to the heavens, as mine grabbed the bar in front of me until my knuckles turned white! That first climb seemed endless. Up and up we went, then suddenly, we were plummeting downward at such a rapid speed it seemed to tale my breath away. Before I  had a chance to catch my breath, we were making a hard turn, banking to the inside then a quick jerk to the right, ending in a spiral. There wasn't time to regain my composure until I found myself totally in the dark as we entered a long tunnel. Just when my eyes started to adjust to the darkness, we were forced back into the shocking sunlight. The ride began to settle down, or so I thought. The next thing I knew we entered a series of rolls. Up and down, around and around, again and again, until we began another climb with

    IT WAS NEARING THE END of the summer. The weather was much cooler, so I decided to take my grandchildren to a nearby amusement park for the day. It was our last big bash before the park would be closing for the year, and I enjoyed the day just being a grandma---in other words, spoiling them beyond measure and then taking them home to Mom and Dad to deal with! They had to try all the usual foods: cotton candy, snow cones, chocolate bananas on a stick, caramel apples, hotdogs, and sodas. Then there were the rides, everything from the pony ride to the roller coaster. All in all it was a good day for everyone.     I am what you might call a people watcher and one place, in particular, caught my attention. I saved this for last, not so much for the kids' sake but for my own---the roller coaster. This beast of twisted metal loomed before me like a giant monster ready to devour any joy I had received from the day. But not wanting to show my fear to my grandchildren, we took our place