It is so much easier for me to "see" if I tell a story. This blog is one of the places that happens.

Buffalo Joy

As Pastor Kyle was speaking in church last week, I kept thinking about my parents. Most of what I’ve learned about joy, I’ve learned from them, but the lessons didn’t come so much through some devotional studies or powerful talks at Starbucks. What I picked up from them were glimpses of joy giftwrapped and handed to me from a God I was still learning to see. Middle school was rotten for a lot of reasons, and not just because I had to deal with snickering 9th graders and acne. Those were also the years we thought we might lose my mom. One morning she woke up with cuts in her hands and on her tongue, and the doctor explained she was having seizures while she slept, serious seizures. After

A Locker, A Manger, and A Teacher's Lie

With five minutes left in class, I yelled above the zipping backpacks and moving desks, “How about a hand for team Too Hot over here.” Students clapped politely, and the review games were over. Christmas vacation was a few exam days away. “Are there any more questions about the exam?” One hand popped up. “Yes Kyle.” A blonde-haired kid in the back had a furrowed brow. He was a wild card. One comment from him would bring depth to a lesson about Othello, and then, with a sour grapes attitude, a complaint would deflate an entire discussion. This time, he had no filter: “How can we get motivated for this exam if you take forever to enter grades.” He wasn’t smiling. All eyes shifted to me. The

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© 2020 by That They May See Erin Ahnfeldt

Colorado Springs