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From “76 Trombones” on the radio, to our hometown band’s rousing rendition of “Blaze Away,” to the bagpipes of the Grenadier Guards at Windsor Castle, to the Sousa tunes of my adopted country—I’ve always loved a good march. It’s in my blood.

Today I march forward, not in lockstep with anyone, but to the beat of a different drum. I look back only to see how far I have come, and to glean material for stories.

Though I camp out frequently for spiritual refreshment, or to help a fledgling writer, the movement is ever forward, never in retreat.

Along the way, I leave touchstones to celebrate victories large or small—reminders of why I set out on this crazy venture. Fan mail from students. My first royalty check. A napkin from Cherilyn’s launch party. The blue star Miss Downer gave me in kindergarten for my retelling of “I Saw a Ship A-Sailing.”

Single-minded as a foot soldier along a straight, solid Roman road, on the
foundation laid by writers who marched before us, I keep marching.

Step by step, word by word, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph, page after page, chapter after chapter, to completion of another book.

And another. And another.

I’m a writer. It’s what I do. Read More 

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Hand-knitted blankets for refugee shelters;
Free surgery for a child born blind;
Snowdrops trembling in frozen gardens;
An enemy’s handshake, a peace treaty signed:
Bright threads of hope in an age of confusion
Woven together with love, to bind
Each broken heart; in the depth of winter
Hints that spring must not be far behind.

But what of the darkness no candle can conquer,
When prophets are silent for hundreds of years,
Death and despair stalk the earth hand in hand
And a cry goes up that nobody hears?
It takes faith to grasp an invisible rope:
Believers pray, while the skeptic sneers.
All Nature groans, until in silver clouds
The Prince of Peace appears.


The pale, scented lilies of Gethsemane
Were bending low beside the Kidron brook,
When heavy-hearted followers from Bethany
Approached the tomb with myrrh, afraid to look.

An angel bright said, “Meet your Friend in Galilee.
Here you’ll find no mortal man’s remains.”
The lilies raised their trumpet heads triumphantly,
For Jesus Christ had shattered Satan’s chains!

From Homeward Tracks ~ © Hazel Spire 2003 Read More 
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Last Monday was a perfect evening for a walk around the neighborhood in crop pants and sandals - warm, with a slight breeze. Rays of light burst through the clouds like a preview of Christ's return, and Nature sang His praises! Jet behaved perfectly on her leash, staying by my side, not pulling ahead as Shadow used to. I wonder if the young volunteers at the animal shelter trained her to do this. Even Carmen's three Pyrenees dogs kept their distance, and Jet didn't bark at them the way she does when in the front yard. We saw one swallowtail, one blue jay, two robins, three flocks of cedar waxwings, and a pair of cardinals in their customary nesting tree on Woolsey Road. The redbuds are in full bloom, later than in previous years. I prayed for the residents of these white and pink frame houses and mobile homes, especially the kids in an aging population. God is blessing our little corner of the heartland. Read More 

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