he nurse knocked on the bedroom door. I had heard Nathaniel’s oximeter alarm go off prior to her knock and was already out of bed. I ran to his room. Upon entering, my eyes went to the machine recording his oxygen levels. Seventy. And then before I looked away, it dropped to forty-seven.

The nurse was bounding him up and down in her arms, ignoring his gasps for breath. "He's cold," she said. "He needs warmer pajamas." He seemed slightly blue. No maybe ash is a better color choice, I thought to myself. All the lights in the room were on, but I desperately wanted more lighting to figure out what was wrong with his coloring.

We were lying side by side on the floor in the empty bedroom when Rich whispered, “I want to submit our home study for the baby.”

In route to Arkansas last weekend to visit our daughter and her husband, one particular turn along highway 67 south caught my attention. I saw the first sign at least a half mile from the curve: large yellow rectangles on both sides of the road warning a sharp left bend. CAUTION. Blinking lights. Danger Ahead.

We are starting our fifth year caring for my husband’s father in our home. It has been a very rewarding experience that has enriched our lives tremendously. The last four years haven’t been conflict free though, and I’ve learned a lot through the process of sharing my home with an in-law. Perhaps these three lessons will encourage other families in a similar living arrangement.

The Facebook message from my friend, Beth, caught me off guard.

I had thirty minutes to waste at Barnes and Noble last weekend and walked out with John Eldredge's Fathered by God: Learning What Your Dad Could Never Teach You. I didn't intend to by a book on manhood, or even intend to buy a book at all. But when I thumbed through Elderidge's book, a chapter title caught my attention: Cowboy.

I have a box of Christmas things marked "OPEN BEFORE THANKSGIVING." It contains the items we need to celebrate Advent: our wreath and candles, booklets of Advent readings from previous years, our Christmas music CD's, homemade nativity scenes, and three of our favorite family read-alouds for the Advent season

We had the opportunity this fall to visit the Menominee Indian Reservation in Wisconsin with a group of volunteers. We spent a Saturday cutting firewood for the tribe's senior citizens. As our group processed what it meant to be invited onto the reservation, we were challenged to think of ourselves as bridge builders from one culture group to another, and then further challenged to think of tangible things we could do to build bridges.

I had a few extra minutes before making Grandpa's breakfast this morning, and picked up Vicki Spandel's The 9 Rights of Every Writer. I wanted to review some of Spandel's insights on teaching. She is good. She got me by the end of chapter one - student writers have the right to be reflective.