"Let not your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in me" John 14:1
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Written by Kevin L. Howard   
Have you ever had a doctor's appointment scheduled several weeks in advance, and the closer you got to the date, the more anxious you grew?  Or perhaps you've needed to talk with someone about a troublesome matter, and you've brooded over how it would go?  Most of us can easily find things to worry about.  How do we live free of it?
Written by Kevin L. Howard   
When you hurt, how do you handle it?  Where do you turn?


Sometimes when life goes sour, we grow angry.  We may become frustrated at God or others around us.  But God wants us to know he loves us even when things don't work out the way we wanted.

Written by Kevin L. Howard   

People who hate talking on the phone should love emailing.  That is, unless they hate writing just as much.  I fall into the first category and unfortunately most of my friends fall into the second.  This odd paring makes for difficult relationships.  Allow me to vent.  The folks on my email list say they’re my friends, and that they want to stay in touch.  Yet when I write them, they never write back.  When I send out my general emails to several friends at once, no one seems to have the time to tell me they received it.  They want to keep receiving it, but never want to write me back.  How difficult is clicking reply and then typing a few words and hitting the send button?  It takes no more than a couple of minutes to write two sentences, acknowledging my presence.  Do my friends not know that if they wait more than two days to email, then they’ve defeated the purpose of having email?  The post office can usually deliver an old fashion hand-written letter within three days.  So why do my friends have an email address if they won’t write back?  My friends, if I can call them that, must love to torture me.  They write each other long emails, I’m sure of it, plotting how they’ll wait at least two months to respond, and then answer only one of the three questions I asked (if they reply at all).  I’m sensing that I may be bitter, but at least I write back. 

A TREE Print E-mail
Written by Kevin L. Howard   
Look at the hills covered by green blades standing at attention, and slowly swaying like a black church choir robed in green.  The soil is cool, slightly damp.  Ants scoot in and out dodging the blades.  They hunt, they march, they attack their prey, and together they hoist it back, even if it’s 100 times bigger than they are individually.
Written by Kevin L. Howard   

Morning crept up on me with a yell at 6:12 a.m.  My alarm shook me like a south Florida hurricane tosses limbs and leaves.  The noise dragged me from a dream, but I welcomed the morning's rude awakening when I remembered today's promised jewel—fishing.


Dad, Dave, and I headed out to the fog-covered river at 6:37, stopping only for biscuits and bait, the two Bs of early-morning fishing.  The Tennessee River greeted me with a serenity I haven't known much since I left its fine shores years ago.


David caught eight fish, whereas dad and I pulled in only four each.  We left the water's nurturing arms at 12:30, and found our way back to life on land.  We ate as soon as possible, and I felt a shower wooing me.  Before long, I nestled in the caress of our loving couch, snoozing away my fatigue.


Oct 2002



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