humanity
Humanity begins at home.
His Timing is Perfect
As it was - The widow was gathering sticks to make a final meal for herself and her son before they died from the famine. Elijah requested a drink of water and a small bread cake. The widow told him of her plans to make a final meal for herself and her son - that she only had enough meal and oil for one last final meal. Elijah insisted on his small cake and then she could make the meal for herself and her son. She did as Elijah instructed. His timing is perfect.
By Michael W. Hurst5 years ago in Families
To Vivlio ton Oneiron
Darius was a poor young man in ancient Roman times, but a good and loyal Roman citizen. The only opportunity for a young poor man was to join the army. The pay and benefits were good enough to make a promising future and the possibility to fulfill one’s dream, who dared to dream. His family originally came from Greece hundreds of years before as philosophers and dreamers, thinking they would spread knowledge and enlightenment. What they found was prejudice, General Lucius Mummius and the total domination of the world and all they left behind in Greece. Darius could read and write and that was worth more than its weight in gold and also a way to possibly rise in the ranks as a Centurion. Darius was being talked about around the camp as the soldier with a pen in the right hand and a gladius in the left.
By Maria Hernandez5 years ago in Families
Fence Posts
The loneliness that blows in on a winter wind is comforting in a way. The depth of its darkness, the bite of its chill, the stultifying silence are all old friends, telling the same story over and over again. No surprises. Of course these thoughts were not formed so much as felt by Carl Odegaard the night he left the farm late, entirely too late, to check on that one fence post. The one near the southeast corner of his cow pasture that leaned no matter what he tried, dragging its neighbors down with it.
By Tiffany Hanssen5 years ago in Families
Stories from "La Frontera"
Stories from “la Frontera” La Espiguita Mom was from the south, way south beyond the Equator closer to the Strait of Magellan, from a thin lengthy winding strip of land. Mamá came from an immigrant nation, looking remarkably like the other white women in the United States. Long white-blond hair and light blue eyes, a slender sparrow, her South American identity doubtless the moment her accented English was heard, succinct and direct speech patterns were her trademark. She was a firecracker, quickly enraged by signs of injustice, with a profound sense of independence despite her displacement from her homeland, and the fact that until the late 20th century, it was isolated from the world. Mountains and distance gave her people a singular sense of security while keeping them insular and provincial.
By Marci Valdivieso5 years ago in Families
Love Promised in a Little Black Notebook
My mother told me a story once. I thought it was just a story anyways…. Once upon a time, there was a young woman that went by the name Patricia. Born in a poor little Irish family, Patricia longed for the beautiful things in life.
By Alexandria Hypatia5 years ago in Families
The measure of a life
When Mrs. Bedrosian died, she left Sophie her cat. Sophie wasn’t entirely sure if it was a gift or a punishment. They had not been especially close, although Sophie had always been friendly to her in the hallways, and on the stoop. She always tried to be a nice neighbor.
By Olivia Newman5 years ago in Families
