Beverly Joy Roberts

We went to a water park with our children and grandchildren this summer.  There were 16 of us.  I was extremely thankful that all my children were swimmers--but the majority of the grandchildren were not! I have a very healthy respect for activities in and around the water.  Okay, maybe I'm a bit over protective to the point of needing to watch everyone's children.   Twice I asked children, "Where is your adult?"   People-watch your children at the pool. Okay, I'm back.  During our pool time, I was left in charge of one of my grandchildren.  I told the parents, "Don't worry I'll watch her."  (In the photo she's the one clutching the side of the pool.) I watched as she ventured away from me.  My eyes never left her--not for a moment.  However, she suddenly realized that she had lost sight of me.  I hadn't moved, but she did.   I watched the expression on her face change from happy exploration--to concern--almost panic.  H

Many years ago when our children were small, we had this little game we played to help accelerate a much desired but months away activity, such as, a vacation to Disney World or a trip to visit family in the United States. (This was when we lived in the Philippines.)     If the thing that we anticipated was months away, we’d look at the calendar and say, “Well, you really can’t count the month of October because that's Dad's bi rthday and H alloween.  Can't count November because that’s my birthday .  (This is true you have 20 shopp ing weeks left!) Also that lesser known holiday called Thanksgiving, and we can’t count December because t hat's Christmas...”    We’d mentally check off the months, weeks and finally days that led up to the much anticipated event.   After the calendar review we’d declare, “We’re going to Disney World, TOMORROW!”   …when actually, the event was still 10-months away.  The anticipation help ed the time pass with excitement

September 6, 1975 The beginning of my senior year in high school, I said—goodbye to a very special boyfriend who was leaving for another year of Bible College in Ellendale, North Dakota.   We wouldn’t see each other until Christmas.     This was nothing new—we’d done the goodbye thing before.  This was his 2 nd year of college.   However, this time something had changed.  There was an emptiness I felt , that I hadn’t experienced before.     The next day I went to school and then to work.   The cute guy in the photo was never far from my thoughts.   While at work, during a break, I took out pen and paper and began writing a letter (remember those).    A few lines into that letter something happened.   I had never felt anything like it before.  I stopped writing, my thoughts turned to (my now husband), I felt a little pricking in the area of my heart.   It wasn’t exactly painful, but different.   Then a sudden loss swept over me at the realization of separation from t

We've had our 8 grandkids with us off and on for over a week.  Five of them staying in our house and the other three coming to visit.  It's been a wonderful time, however, it is summer and I realized there is a phase I have repeated far more than any other.  It's not, "I love you."--which I do love them--passionately.  It's not, "You are the cutest thing on two feet."-- Which is a known FACT. It's not, "Are you hungry?"--I'm a grandma--enough said.     Nope none of the above. My most used phase this summer has been... "Shut the door."  ( Never yelled, but said in the kindest of ways!) In fact, I just said it a few minutes age...repeatedly...and as the words came out of my mouth, yet again, God dropped a thought into my heart, and lucky you--I'm gonna share. There are occasions in life when all of us are like my grandkids--leaving open doors behind us.  Spiritually speaking we may call