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APRIL 2005 ISSUE HOMEPAGE
TABLE OF CONTENTS
A Breath of Fresh Air
A Merry Heart
A Woman's World
A Word in Season
Acting Up
As I Imitate Christ
Cyber Walk
Faith Seekers
Golden Apples
Heaven Bound
Just Between Men
Take it to Heart
Teen Truth
The Joy of Family
The Parents'
Survival Guide

The Rhythm of Life
The Treehouse
Through Their Eyes
'Tis the Season
We Are the Church
Well Read


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ARCHIVES
From the Editor -
Darlene Hight
Golden Apples
Featured Article
MorningBest Paper
By Darlene Hight

Have you ever wondered whether or not the things that you do really matter? I often have. I wonder, in fact, whether or not anyone reads the words that I write or whether they have an impact. Sunday school teachers question whether their lessons are falling on fertile ground or whether the seeds wash off as quickly as they are planted? What of missionaries who spend countless years serving faithfully but never see tangible evidence of their labor?

This morning, I read a story and it touched my heart tremendously. It was the story of a man who had been mutilated in an accident. He was missing his left arm, both legs and some of the fingers on his right hand.

Rather than waste away in his own grief, he chose to write letters to prisoners. In the letters, he poured out his heart to them. He wrote of his love for God and his faith – even though he never knew if his letters were being read at all, as the prisoners weren’t allowed to respond.

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The Antique Desk
By Joanne Malley

I opened the oak, six-panel door that lead to the attic. After fumbling for the light, illumination revealed an array of family collectibles and furniture. Hidden beneath the sheets and cobwebs were the belongings that remained from my husband’s deceased grandparents.

The house they once occupied possessed a special charm and reminiscent quality. Each time I visited, comfort washed over me. Sadly, the time had come to sell the house, as well as divide some of its history. My husband and I were asked to choose our favorite piece of furniture for our own home. It gave us an opportunity for their legacy to live on where we resided.

As I stood in sheer delight, I scanned the unfinished attic. It was filled with an alluring charm. I felt as if I were looking into a life-sized treasure chest. A rush of anticipation swept over me as I set my sights on a large desk of time-honored beauty. It stood alone, uncovered in the far corner, waiting to be noticed.

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MomsNatural Ability?
By Rita Garcia

Natural ability – is it really natural? As I was pondering this question I was transported back to my childhood.

There I was, perched on a stool, watching my mother make a cake. She took the big mixing bowl and started adding one ingredient after another. She seldom measured anything. As she added cocoa to the mixture, I inhaled the sweet smell of chocolate. I could hardly wait as she began pouring the batter into the cake pans.

"You want to lick the bowl?" she said, with a knowing smile.

I went right to work with the big wooden spoon, and I cleaned every smidgen of batter from that big mixing bowl.

Once I grew up, my mother came to visit. She sat watching me prepare dinner.

"Are you sure I can’t help?" she offered.

"I only wish I had your natural ability for cooking," I told her.

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