The Nothing Blog

Come on, be honest. If you were strolling down the sidewalk in Historic Downtown Canton and you saw a little dog quietly sitting in a bicycle basket you'd take more than a second look. You'd take a picture, too, just like I did. Of course, I couldn't stop there, I had to move in for a closer look and prove this was a real dog in a bike basket and the bike was leaning against a wall! So I took a close up photo.  If you keep reading you'll see I took several photos while I was laughing in amazement. The cute little dog posed for my photo shoot instead of barking at me or jumping out of the basket!  After taking several pictures of this phenomenon I turned around and walked to my car parked two storefronts away. I kept thinking "Where is the owner and how is this possible? There is a story here, I know it." The dog in the bike basket was gently and securely parked next to a huge ceramic painted pig! Yep. And it makes sense because this is the front of The Painted...

Early this morning during my walk/sprint/prayer workout -- whatever it is --  I caught a glimpse of the 10th fairway in our Woodmont neighborhood. There was just enough sunlight piercing the grey clouds to make the dew glisten on the manicured grass. The steep slope of the fairway and the early morning dew still soaking the grass was reminiscent of something I hadn't thought about in a long time. I was taken back to the time when my mom, Mary Brown, started a junior golf program in our hometown of Corry, PA. Woodmont Golf & Country Club fairway #10.  Oh, it was a very sweet memory that popped in my head when I looked down the hilly fairway this morning. Memories were growing and I recalled details:  As young children we'd play very early each Tuesday and the grass was always as dewy when we started as it was on the 10th fairway this morning!  Corry Country Club, Corry, PA. 1961. My sister Julie Brown is in the front, center of the photo (white sock...

What I call my quiet time is when I'm privately seeking the face of God. I'm on my knees to confess my sins, give Him thanks and praise and then pray for Him to move mountains for my family, friends, and revival of our country and the world. My Bible is open in front of me. My journal and pen are beside me ready to record inspiration. When I am in this state of worship I can expect to hear the Holy Spirit speak to my heart. I don't do this because I'm super spiritual. I do this because I KNOW Him. I know who HE is. Wow. He's GOD! He's awesome! And I know that " in Him I live and move and have my being!" (Acts 17:28 personalized) I'm just a vessel He uses for His glory, just like He does with the rest of His kids and I know if I draw from His spring of living water during my quiet time I'll be able to splash His life onto others with the overflow He gives me! " Whoever believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will...

I'm afraid I'm speaking from a powerful, supernatural experience when I say fear is like a plague. I learned it spreads easily if it's not "taken captive."  And I don't think I'm the only one. Hmmm. Maybe I am.  Fear wants to embed itself in our minds. Each of our fears begin with a subtle, negative thought: "You're not going to succeed. You're not good enough. You're stupid. He/She doesn't even like you. You'll never amount to anything. You're sick. He's sick. They're sick. They are lying to you. Stop trying, it's hopeless. Everyone hates you. Get that new car so you can finally measure up to their standards. You can't learn anything new. You'll never overcome that addiction. You'll never get married. You'll never get a job. You're a loser. Don't even try, just give up now.  If you just tell a little white lie you can get ahead. Go ahead, everybody's doing it! You're going to have t...

As a stay-at-home newlywed living in Doraville, GA, I became restless because my precious hubby was at work all day and I needed to do something productive. You can only go to the grocery store so many times a day. And I would ride my new 10-speed bike around the neighborhood, clean the house, talk to friends and prepare dinner...but I still had HOURS before my sweet man came home each evening. I met my Don in Atlanta, GA, after I moved from Juno Beach (Palm Beach County), FL, where I was a feature writer for The Palm Beach Post. I loved driving around the beach town in my little convertible meeting new people and writing their exciting stories. But since moving to Atlanta -- and as a newborn Christian I might add -- I wasn't working yet. I decided to check into local publications to see if I could get some writing to be more productive. I landed a position as a free-lance writer for a small, local paper.  But when I sat down to write, my mind was as blank as the pages in front o...