Author: davidsdailydose

  • The Search

    The Search

    There was once a wealthy heiress to a real estate fortune who was a collector of fine art. In particular, she was keen to acquire the early paintings of Pablo Picasso. Virtually every time a work from his Blue Period, when he painted mostly in shades of blue and blue-green, became available, the heiress tried…

  • Embracing Life’s Seasons: Change and Growth

    Embracing Life’s Seasons: Change and Growth

    Yesterday morning amber leaves fluttered down from our front yard tree as matching butterflies flitted among them. “It’s the beginning of the end,” I said to myself, realizing that the branches would soon be empty and the butterflies gone. If only the seasons of life were so easily seen. Over the years, too many transitions…

  • Daddy’s First Car

    Daddy’s First Car

    Early in my nursing home ministry days, I purchased a digital audio recorder, to capture some of the fascinating stories the residents shared. I loved the one told us by a ninety-year-old lady about how the children in her one room schoolhouse crowded around one of the few radios in their community to hear President…

  • Mind the Checks: Understanding Divine Guidance

    Mind the Checks: Understanding Divine Guidance

    On my daily commute to work, there’s a merge onto the interstate, that can sometimes be harrowing. Thankfully, it’s a fairly long view looking back as you prepare to enter the motorway. One early morning last week I came to the familiar junction and saw no approaching headlights. Yet, as I accelerated onto the highway,…

  • Territory | Short Story

    Territory | Short Story

    It’s “dark-thirty,” as the local cattle ranchers like to say, with a full moon rising over the prairie. Just across the road from a little town, the mama cows and their calves are already bedded down on the lush Kentucky bluegrass. Nothing much is happening… yet. But if you look closely, on the far side…

  • A Frog in the Well

    A Frog in the Well

    Many who live out in the countryside near our little farming town have their own water wells. One such long-time community member, who was a child in the 1950s, shared how the water would occasionally turn foul–with a bad taste and smell. At that point, mom or dad would say to their youngest child, “Sonny,…