Renae Bowman

I distinctly remember her. It was at one of my very first Christian women’s retreats. I saw her step from her chair into a side aisle, somewhat out of view, during worship time, and begin dancing with unbridled passion. She lifted her arms high above her head, eyes closed, and began twirling and moving to the music that was sung. When the music stopped, I could see her cheeks were wet from tears. My first thought—oh, she’s one of those! After letting go of the pearls I was

Daffodils are one of my all-time favorite flower. The delicacy of the petals, the trumpet centers, the varying colors, the hints of Spring when they bloom—I’ve been enamored with them for decades. Two years ago, I planted over 150 bulbs in my yard. It was backbreaking, to say the least! I lined a grass area with hopes that the flowers would border, and beautify, the space. I haven’t been let down. Last year, when they finally popped their little heads up out of the ground,

Years ago, one of my dearest, closest, long-time friends was given a dreaded diagnosis for a host of health problems. The doctors told him that his life-giving heart, was losing its own; the heart that beat in his chest thousands of times a day, was down to its remaining few. It would be a journey to sustain what remained, and to search for what could be new. His heart. His very lifeblood to the rest of his body had done all it could to keep going, but could go no more. A