Tagged with "Jesus"
Angels Drive Freightliners Tags: Angels Christian blog Christian devotional Christian Writer God Jesus miracles truckers

















One of the cool things about traveling around the country is the people we’re privileged to meet and the testimonies they share with us. Following is an amazing true story from a friend we met in the West. She was rather shy in relating this story as she didn’t want to be labeled a kook. But I appreciated the encouragement I received from hearing it. I am a total believer in all the ways God can show up in our lives. There are no limitations with Him, and He will find us wherever we are, by whatever means He deems necessary. I’m renaming our friend to honor the fact that she is a private person. Other than that, the facts remain intact.

Before the life-changing invention of cell phones and call boxes, traveling America’s roads was not just full of simple adventure, but a bit more like walking on the wild side. Pulling onto the highway meant facing potential dangers with few lifelines …

It was a far piece from the tiny, one-horse town of Rodeo, New Mexico to the big city of Denver, Colorado. Erin eyed her truck which was anything but reliable. But, it was all she had and her only choice to shuttle her to a new job and a new life.

Loading up a small suitcase, a plant, and her cat, she pulled out of the driveway for the last time and started the journey toward Denver. Gusts of snow flurried and stuck to the roadway as she gripped the wheel and leaned forward.  The truck struggled and groaned, and she prayed. Somehow it chugged all the way to Glorieta Pass, northeast of Albuquerque. She caught her breath as the old pickup finally stalled and gave out.

The snow stopped falling, and Erin stared out the window at the clear, starry, empty night. No houses were visible in the inky blackness. She was totally alone. And it was cold. Really cold. So cold, in fact, that her plant froze, and she couldn’t feel her feet. She envied the cat with its thick, fluffy fur.

She grabbed her CB. “I need help!” she cried over the airwaves. But she discovered, along with the heater, the CB had died too. What am I going to do? She sobbed. I’ll freeze to death out here!

Suddenly vehicle lights reflected in her rearview mirror and two huge semi-trucks rumbled up. One of the big rigs parked behind her, the other swung around and parked in front. Both drivers jumped out and strolled to her window. Tentatively she cracked it open and peered up at the two truckers.  

“Are you OK?” asked the first man, the lines in his dark features deepening in concern.
“We heard your cries for help over the CB,” said the other man, his blue eyes piercing into hers.
Hmmm, the CB? she thought, but just replied, “My truck won’t start.”
The first man, who introduced himself as Charlie, strode to the front of the pickup and busied himself under the hood. Strangely enough, she trusted these men. She opened the door.
The second man, who called himself “Midnight Cowboy,” crouched and reached for her feet, rubbing the circulation back into them.

“All set,” came a voice under the hood. “Fire it up!” Erin turned the key and the truck roared to life. Unfortunately, the head and taillights didn’t work.

“We’re on our way to Denver same as you,” said Midnight Cowboy. “I’ll lead out, and Charlie will tail you since you have no lights.”

Funny, I don’t recall saying anything about Denver, Erin thought. Oh well. Relief flooded over her. She relaxed, knowing that if her truck died again, she’d have help. The two men hopped in their trucks, and the little convoy rolled down the road toward Denver.  

Bright lights from a truck stop gleamed on the horizon, and they pulled in. As she sipped her steaming coffee, she noticed her newfound friends never ordered anything, not even coffee.

They continued their journey; the trio stopping periodically at weigh stations. They figured out a routine: Erin drove around the stations, waited for her friends to pass through the scales, and met them on the other side. Before they hit the highway again, one of the men kindly rubbed the circulation back into her feet. She appreciated that neither of the men ever made a pass toward her—they simply helped her.

Sunlight peeked over the distant mountains as they pulled into the last weigh station. When they met on the other side, they hugged and said their goodbyes. “It’s morning so you should be able to make it safely to where you’re going,” said Midnight Cowboy. Erin thanked her new friends again, and they all pulled out onto the highway.

She traveled through the morning light, pondering the events of the previous night. She wondered at the fact that her friends’ rigs had no company names or writing on them anywhere.  

Midnight Cowboy’s rig rolled ahead of her. But something wasn’t right. Her vision seemed to blur. She quickly glanced to the side of the road to double check her eyesight. Shifting her gaze back to her friend’s semi, she stared wide-eyed as it faded like a mirage and disappeared. The open road and the bright Denver lights shown directly in front of her. I’m going crazy, she thought. She jerked her head up, peering into the rearview mirror. Charlie’s truck was still behind her. And then, just like Midnight Cowboy’s, Charlie’s semi faded and disappeared.

Stunned, she drove the last few miles to her destination where the pickup promptly died in the driveway. She called a local mechanic who towed it to his shop.

“Where did you say you drove from?” asked the mechanic, eyeing her from beneath the hood.
“Rodeo, New Mexico,” she replied.
“That’s impossible,” he said, staring at her.
“But I did,” she insisted.
“Look, this truck couldn’t have gone five feet, let alone 786 miles.” He shook his head. “There’s an engine part missing.”

That evening, she related her entire adventure to her Pastor-friend, elaborating on the truck drivers who came to her rescue. “So, what do you make of all this?”
He grinned at her. “Did you ever think that you might have met up with some angels?”
“I never thought of that.” Her eyes narrowed. “But wait a minute, if they were angels, why didn’t they fix the heat too? Or the lights?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Maybe you needed to stick with them to get you safely to Denver.” He chuckled. “At any rate, I know there’s more to this than just a couple of truckers helping a gal on a lonely highway.”

“For He shall give His angels charge over you, To keep you in all your ways”—Psalm 91:11.


History of Hymns by Lucy Neeley Adams: “Tell Me the Stories of Jesus” Tags: Christian hymns Jesus

Tell me the stories of Jesus

Summer days or school days, nothing to do, boring day, all were thoughts of my early years. In spite of much fun stuff, I began many pages in my fourth grade diary with the title, “Boring Day.”

My school friend of many years ago agrees. “Yes, those were my feelings too,” Sally remembered. “It was all slightly boring.” Then we often discuss our years of teaching and laugh when we wonder if we too had students who shared our same thoughts about their studies.

Those thoughts are of public school. Sunday school was quite different. I was blessed with great Christian leaders who were committed to children. Their lessons have often been remembered as I grow in my faith.

That was certainly true of a Sunday school class that Mr. William Parker taught. Sensing that the students were restless, he put away all the materials and began to tell them a story. It worked every time. Quickly they became quiet and attentive.

Later that afternoon after church, Parker thought about the countless times his students had said,

“Please tell us another story.” Suddenly an idea flashed into his mind, and he gathered his thoughts and arranged them in a poem: “Tell Me the Stories of Jesus.”

With those first words as a beginning, he continued to write with vivid description about many events in Jesus’ life. The verses explain what it must have felt like to be blessed at his knee, to sing glad hosannas while waving palm branches and to stand at the cross of bitter pain.

William H. Parker was born in Nottinghamshire, England, on March 4, 1845 and died there in 1929.

He worked for an insurance company and was a dedicated Christian layman in his home church, Chelsea Street Baptist.

A friend described him as a person who was “quiet in demeanor, kindly in disposition, always trying to see the best in others. He was one of God’s true gentlemen respected and loved by all.”

Parker’s poem, “Tell Me the Stories of Jesus” was written to honor the devotion of the pupils he taught each Sunday. It was not used as a hymn for several years because it had no music. The beautiful melody, written by Frederick A. Challinor, was chosen as a result of a competition held by the Sunday School Union of the Church of England in 1903.

This hymn is dear to me because Sunday school thoughts flood my memory whenever I hear it. My teacher, Jane McDonald, was a petite woman who had a light of happiness on her face when she told us stories of Jesus. Reading them in the Bible was not as exciting as when she told them. She wanted us to feel what the people felt when they were with him.

Jesus told his disciples that the children who eagerly came to him were an example for all: “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it” (Mark 10:15).

That makes me wonder: When I was a child who attended Sunday school and eagerly listened to my teacher, was I receiving the kingdom of God? Yes, because I responded and received him as my Lord and Savior. As an adult, I continue to be eager to hear and obey all of the glorious stories of Jesus.

Parts of this story are from Lucy Adams’ book, 52 Hymn Story Devotions

Lucy Adams

Lucy Adams In 1984 in Nashville, Tennessee I began to write answers for the question, “Why do people write songs?” Those stories first appeared on a radio program that I created: THE STORY BEHIND THE SONG aired on Christian radio station WWGM.

The program began as I sang six words, “I Love to Tell the Story” and said: “Hi friends, this is Lucy Adams and I tell the story behind the song.” I continued the show for five minutes with a message that answered … who, what, where and why of the hymn – plus a verse or two of the music. These programs continued to play for many years in various towns in Tennessee. Visit my blog to learn more about the stories of our favorite hymns at https://www.52hymns.com/about.htm

“From the Back of the Crowd” by Lesley Crawford Tags: Jesus healing hope Lesley Crawford

As the crowd jostled and pushed, attempting to get close to him, she stood at a distance. She watched them as they laughed and chatted, shouting greetings to one another across the busy street.

She felt invisible. No-one welcomed her, or talked to her, or even glanced in her direction. It wasn’t that she expected them to acknowledge her; she knew her place- standing at the back of the crowd, on the outside, looking in. She hated it, but she was resigned to it; it had been twelve long years since life had been different.

Twelve years of sickness and suffering, of doctors and medicines, of hopes raised and dashed. Twelve years of being excluded and avoided and branded “unclean.”  Twelve years of wishing and praying, and hoping for a cure that would bring an end to her isolation. Twelve years of disappointment.

And yet she wasn’t quite ready to relinquish hope, because she knew that right there, in the centre of the crowd, was Jesus.

She had heard stories of the amazing miracles he had done: turning water into wine at a wedding, healing leprosy, curing blindness, enabling a paralysed man to walk for the first time ever. Surely if anyone could help her, it was him.

If only she could figure out how to get through the crowd to approach him. The thought terrified her. Surely someone would notice and send her back where she belonged.

Even if she did get to Jesus, what would she say to him anyway?  Why should he help her? And what if it didn’t work? She had literally tried everything else – there was no other hope.

She was distracted from her thoughts as the crowd suddenly parted and stood aside. A man made his way through to approach Jesus. He made it look easy.

Well, it was easy for him. She recognized him. He was the leader of the local synagogue. Of course Jesus would have time for him.

She could see that something was badly wrong though. The anguish was written all over his face as, close to tears, he fell to the ground before Jesus and pleaded with him: “Please come and help. My daughter is dying.”

Jesus’ concern and compassion was evident as he helped the synagogue leader to his feet and set off with him, reassuring him that he would come to help. It was an expression of such love and tenderness that her mind was made up.

She had to do this – there was nothing to lose. She had to find a way.

She knew there was no way she could walk up to Jesus like that – she wasn’t important enough – but she knew he was powerful – really powerful. Maybe just getting close enough to touch his robe would be enough.

She hurried along to catch up with Jesus as he strode through the town. Running along by the side of the crowd she overtook them all, until at last she was in line with Jesus.

It was now or never.

Before she could lose courage, she made her way through the people surrounding Jesus, she timidly reached out her hand, and she touched him…

And everything changed. It came over her instantly- a feeling that she had almost forgotten. The bleeding that had plagued her for so many years had stopped and she was well!  She could hardly believe it! She was clean at last!

But something was wrong. Jesus had stopped. He turned to the crowd. “Who touched my robe?”


At first she thought she might get away with it. One of his disciples tried to persuade him that someone had just brushed against him by accident. It was perfectly possible with the huge crowd pushing and trying to get close. But Jesus waited- he knew that it had been deliberate.

Now she wished she was invisible. She tried to blend into the crowd. What if Jesus was angry that she had touched him? What would the people say? She could feel herself shaking with fear.

Her heart was pounding and it felt like every eye was upon her as she finally stepped to the front of the crowd and fell, trembling, at Jesus’ feet. The words came out in barely a whisper:

“I touched you. I wanted you to heal me.”

She stared at the ground as she waited for his response. She had no idea what to expect. But then gentle hands lifted her head and as she looked into his eyes, she could see only kindness. He smiled at her.

“Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace.”

And as instantly as the sickness had left her, the shame departed. No longer an outcast at the back of the crowd, but someone loved and valued by Jesus. No longer “unclean” but “daughter”.

Thanking him, she rose to her feet and she went, in peace.

(based on Luke 8:40-48)



Lesley Crawford – I live in Scotland and work doing youth work with a Christian charity.  In my spare time I enjoy music, theatre, reading and writing.  Since August 2015, I have been blogging at http://lifeinthespaciousplace.wordpress.com/ and I write to encourage people that, whatever their circumstances, there is always hope to be found in God.


Shuttle Driver Finds Christ
Category: Member Blogs
Tags: airport Four Spiritual Laws http://www.everystudent.com/features/gettingconnected.html http://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html htt

Our friend Bernie travels a great deal.  He loves the Lord Jesus and keeps alert for opportunities to share Christ with others.

Last week he was returning from the airport and was alone with the driver of the shuttle bus.  He ask him, “Do you know the Lord?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.  I’m Catholic, but I don’t attend church.

Bernie: “If you were to die today, do you know where you would go?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Let me explain the most important message of God.  First of all, God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life.  The problem is, we are all sinners, so we are separated from God and cannot experience His love and salvation.  When Jesus came, He was born of a virgin and then lived a perfectly sinless life so that He could die on the cross and pay the penalty for your sins and mine.  Three days after He died He rose from the dead.

“Today, if we pray and confess our sins and tell God we want to receive His free gift of salvation then He will forgive our sins and send His Holy Spirit to live in us and make us new on the inside. He promises that we will live with Him in heaven, for all eternity. God is just a prayer away.”  Bernie stopped talking.

They rode in silence for a while.  Then the driver said, “I want to pray. Would you help me?”

Bernie led him in prayer and the driver gave his heart to Christ.  Bernie continued to share more of God’s Word with the driver and encouraged him to read the Bible daily. He urged him to get into a small group to pray for one another and to study the Bible together.   He left the driver with a DVD of the Jesus Movie and a booklet entitled:  Would You Like to Know God Personally?  by Dr. Bill Bright.   The driver was most grateful.

  • You too can read the booklet Bernie shared:  http://www.everystudent.com/features/gettingconnected.html
  • You can watch the Jesus Movie here: http://www.jesusfilm.org/watch/jesus.html/english.html
  • Preach the word! Be ready in season and out of season. Convince, rebuke, exhort, with all longsuffering and teaching.  2 Timothy 4:2
[This life is temporary. This life is short. Let me ask you an important question:  If you were to die today, where do you think you would go?  When this life is over, our bodies will die and become an empty shell, but our souls will continue to live forever.  Where will the “real you” live?  Will you live for all eternity separated from God?  Or will you spend eternity in the presence of God in heaven?   Learn more so you can make your most important decision:    http://www.whoisjesus-really.com/

[Looking for SHARE buttons?  Want to LEAVE A COMMENT?   Go to: www.kathleensfaithwalk.com   and scroll to the bottom of page.]


“Some Lost Things We Need to Recover” by Sharon L. Patterson Tags: Daily Devotional Faith Hope Jesus Prayer Christian Life

Feather BackgroundIs it just me, or have you noticed we have lost some very significant things we desperately need to recover in our lives?

The first one on my list may seem to be ridiculously obvious…or not.  It is our mind….especially its ability to reason with rational thought.

Somewhere in the mire of trying to be inclusive of all thought, we have accepted the belief that there really are no absolutes except for one: absolute tolerance.

We worship knowledge over wisdom, tolerance over truth. We have decided that truth is no longer the time-tested pillar built from the basic tenants of Judeo-Christian law, but a piece of evolving architecture formed from a fluid, humanistic mindset that can be molded to fit the politically-correct topic of the moment.

How we need to recover a sound mind!

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge but fools despise wisdom and discipline.” Proverbs 1:7 (NIV)

A second dire-loss in need of recovery is civility and the respect for one another as we bring the points on which we differ out into the public arena.

At one time, we could actually hear each other because we wanted to help improve our world, not just win arguments.  We could hammer out differences without hammering one other. Oh, that we would bless, rather than blast, our fellow man.

 “Love must be sincere.  “Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves.” Romans 12: 9-10 (NIV)

Thirdly, we need to recover our lost hope.  Despair is not a good substitute. It becomes a breeding ground for depression. What we view and what we hear actually matter.

If our media feed is only news that centers on the sensational (and that is generally negative), our hope diminishes.

Maybe we just need to hear the Good News more often coming unapologetically from the mouth of ministers of the gospel.

“We have this hope as an anchor of the soul, firm and secure.”

Hebrews 6:19 (NIV)

You know, I believe we can find and recover these lost things by doing something simple. It is not easy, but it is simple:

“But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” Matthew 6:33 (NIV)

If we seek the One who made our minds, the One who showed us how to speak the truth in love and the One who not only spoke good news but was Good News, then we can recover a sound mind, civility and respect, and hope will once again fill us with a renewed sense of life worth living.


sharon L. Patterson

Sharon Patterson, retired educator, career military wife, and leader in women’s ministry, has written inspirational encouragement in various forms from greeting cards to short stories, poetry, and Bible studies for over thirty years. She has authored three books, and is a contributing author for several of the Chicken Soup for the Soul books. She and her husband Garry live in Round Rock, Texas. They have three sons and five grandchildren.

Sharon is a member of the RUBY writers’ team and a regular contributor to the RUBY magazine.

“ENVY” by Cyndie Randall Tags: Faith Hope Jesus Prayer Gods Grace Christian Women

envyI am so envious.

 I’m envious of people with really good teeth. Especially when they’ve never seen an orthodontist and they drink liters of black coffee between donut-chewing and not flossing. They do all this while smiling, by the way.

I’m envious of women who OWN that two-piece swimsuit even after their bodies have sagged and settled.

Yes, I do jiggle and bounce up this beach. And?? 

This kind of bikini-wearer isn’t worried about containment because she is too busy with freedom.

When I find these women, I study them as I would aliens — my head tipped, brow furrowed curiously, mouth gaping. I like their kind. Teach me your ways, space creatures.  

And I’m envious of deep things, sacred things. I’m envious of joyful girls who have snuggly fathers and of patient mothers with healthy ovaries and of any human or non-human who rests well at night and is sure of the voice of Jesus.


 My envy is a husky, red-dressed opera singer who will not get off the stage. When she pushes out from behind the curtain, I suddenly can’t hear any other singers: not Love, in that warm and encompassing bass; certainly not Hope, with her ethereal whisper.

And Faith seems to bail completely, diving headfirst into the orchestra pit.

Envy makes certain I will not enjoy myself or anybody else.

This bossy soprano gets stuck in a crescendo loop — her highest, strongest notes dominating the room — until I want to pop right out of my skin. I can jam fingers in my ears but her glass-shattering song still finds a way to pull all my triggers.

Envy’s vibrato is loyal, but she is a fierce and cunning devil, always stealing my life space, always proposing a clever promise.

I do ask God to escort her sassy-ass out the back door, remembering all of what He has warned about her — how anti-love she plays. But He usually says something like:

She’s here for a reason, you know. You can’t just ignore her or pray her away. Don’t invite her to sit for tea, but do pay attention. Why is she visiting so often, my love? Where is she poking you? What do you keep hoping she’ll offer? Answer these, and you’ll find something true about yourself and something true about me.

They are deeply personal questions, aren’t they? I don’t want to answer them for you. But I will answer them for myself, at least in part, and maybe you’ll find you can relate.


She stays when I refuse to live as one Beloved. Now. Just as I am.

Size four jeans (or six or eight) will never hold me; I could spend a lot of time shut up in my room, grunting and sweating and doing bad yoga moves trying to push myself into them. And nobody would ever see me again, as this would be an eternal effort, not to mention a fruitless one. Those clothes are lovely and fine, but they aren’t mine to wear.

Envy has been loud and proud in my ear lately, telling me I need to write more like THIS person and THAT person. The immediate problem is I’m not THIS person or THAT person; I don’t speak like THIS and I don’t live like THAT.

I cannot become the ambassador I’m uniquely fashioned to be if I’m too busy longing for and living someone else’s ________.


She stabs me right in the center of my need, in the place where I am aching for something, for someone. She always uses a version of truth to pierce me and push the knife in, but then she twists it into a big, bloody mess.

“Don’t you want to be special?” she asks. 

Respected? Loved?

Yes, of course. I’m made by love, with love, for love. That’s exactly what I want, what we all want.

Sure you do. Well, anyway, THIS writer here and THAT writer over there? — They are special AND loved because of what they’re doing, because of what they have. If you say THIS and be THAT, you can be special and loved too. 

She may lie in the end, but do you see the hidden gift here? The reason I need to pay attention? My envy exposed two of the most vulnerable and beautiful truths about me: 1) I have needs, and 2) I cannot fulfill them.


I keep hoping she’ll meet those good needs in me, or at least lead me to what or who can. I want her to soothe my pain, make me feel like enough, give me a purpose. But she won’t, because she can’t.

And even if Envy could satiate, she’d only offer the temporary, counterfeit goods. Remember? Cramming my thighs into size four jeans? — My gifts into somebody else’s life? That’s all just chasing wind.

Her forever job is to get me to believe my need can be met by the wrong thing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Surely this is too many wrongs to lead to any kind of peace.

If it’s not the way to be who I am for the glory of the one who made me, it’s certainly not the way to fulfill my heart’s desire.

In short, this is Envy’s climactic high note: Her forever job is to get me to believe my need can be met by the wrong thing in the wrong place at the wrong time. Surely this is too many wrongs to lead to any kind of peace.


Envy blinds. She is a false protector, a distraction, and a sure way to escape vulnerability. I have used her a thousand times to avoid standing face to face with what I’m actually feeling and experiencing inside; a thousand more to carve out my own way, to build my golden calf.

When I envy others, I don’t have to get way down inside the painful desire I have to be special and loved for who I am; I’m too distracted trying to become someone else. I also won’t have to profess what I’ve perceived to be weakness: That I’ve had God-given need my entire life. Nor must I explore the moments that caused it to feel like an unmanageable, aching, raging dragon.

When I envy what is not mine, my own goodness, gratitude, grief – they all pile up in me and hold their breath. They become lost somewhere off the path of expression and healing and resurrection. When I’m off that path, I don’t have to explore my own dark and glorious heart or God’s mysterious and lavish one. This can feel like the safest way, but it’s never the one that leads to abundant life.

Envy has always been one of my most dependable routes to the disconnected and inauthentic. But I am made for so much more, and oh how I tire of her same old song.

Unless we’re talking about teeth, of course. I still want good teeth.


cyndierandall bannerClick HERE or click the banner to connect with Cyndie on her website, www.cyndierandall.com


cyndie randallCyndie Randall loves sifting life for good little stories to share. Being a woman-poet-therapist-wife-mother-Jesus-follower and song-maker helps that along. Click here or on Cyndie’s picture to link to her Facebook page.

“Putting on Godliness” by Cassidy Burdge – ‘The Christian Prepster’ Tags: Faith Hope Jesus Prayer Youth

Since God chose you to be the holy people he loves, you must clothe yourselves with tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.-Colossians 3:12 NLT


Wouldn’t that be great? Living a life clothed in compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. I have yet to master this skill, but I try really hard to live up to it. God sent His Son for me, but I still live a stubborn and angered life as if that price was not enough. I need to swallow my pride and reflect Jesus throughout my days.

I believe if we want to live the life presented to us in Colossians 3:12, we need to do some deep dissection, people!

The word ‘clothe’ means to put on clothing. Daily, we all “put on clothing”. We don’t just wake up clothed and ready to face the day.

It takes time, effort, and some early mornings, it takes all the energy we have.

The same runs for our attitude. If we want to reflect Christ, it will take time, effort, and all the energy we have. When we become annoyed or frustrated, it will take all of our efforts. When we are tired, it will take all of our energy.

Colossians 3:12 is our ultimate goal when we interact with others. Our aim should be to show Christ’s love and joy to the faces of this world.

I want to be a compassionate, kind, humble, gentle, and patient person. I want people to be able to see Christ through me. I know those traits will take time and effort, but I believe they are totally worth it.

My prayer for you is that you will continue to seek Christ above all else, and strive to live a life in harmony with Colossians 3:12.

XOXO, The Christian Prepster


The Christian Prepster BannerClick the banner or CLICK HERE to visit Cassidy’s blog-site: The Christian Prepster


Cassidy Burdge

Hello! I am The Christian Prepster, a high school student living the
Christian lifestyle in a preppy state of mind. I have a deep love for
sharing Christ through writing and blogging, and am so excited to be
a part of the Ruby magazine. I blog about anything from Biblical teachings
to book reviews! I hope you enjoy what the Lord has placed on my


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Ruby’s Reading Corner features books by Ruby authors, as well as a wide-variety of inspirational books, family and parenting, holidays, gardening, Christian fiction, marriage and relationship advice, financial advice, and so much more.
"Bring a Cowboy Home" by Gloria Doty
Bring a Cowboy Home

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