Hot Apple Cider

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“If you want to see it, come now!” Peter’s whisper tickled my ear.

“Coming,” I muttered.

I slipped into my shorts and T-shirt and tip-toed behind him through Jim and Julie’s house.

Peter gently shut the door. “There, we didn’t wake the baby,” he said with a grin.

He reached for my hand, and together we walked in the soft glow of early morning light, past houses on stilts and gardens green with tropical plants and flowering shrubs.

It was October, 1987, and we were in Palm Cove on Australia’s east coast, just north of Cairns. We had come from Canada to visit our son, his beautiful Aussie wife, and their first-born child, our third grandson.

Through a row of palms, we stepped onto Palm Cove beach—a long solitary crescent stretching between water and forest. We sat down on the soft white sand and inhaled the peaceful morning scene, the music of the birds, the measured breathing of the water. The Coral Sea stretched out before us, its dark glistening water touching a far-off pink horizon. Spell-bound, we waited for God to make a morning….

Read the rest of "It Was Then That I Carried You" by Angelina Fast-Vlaar, The Word Guild Award winner, 2009

He was born with a smile on his face, so they called him “Sunny.” Though on paper they officially dubbed him Walter, Sunny was the name he would go by all his life. I can’t say I blame him. What child in his right mind would want to be called Walter?

His wife would be Norma Jean, though he certainly didn’t know it at the time, nor did he care; but that was God’s plan, and a good one too. How can you fail with a name like Norma Jean? Having the same birth name as Marilyn Monroe practically made her a star.

Sunny’s mother heard the call of God as a young adult. She’d gone forward and been baptized by Aimee Semple McPherson herself, and if that didn’t make her Christian, well, what did? At least she thought so. But her faith was sincere, so even though Sunny’s father refused to go, whenever Dad was out of town, Mom would bundle the kids up and hustle them off to church. So it was that at age12, Sunny made that all-important decision to follow Christ. But that was pretty much the sum of his religious training. He grew up believing God was somewhere out there in the cosmos and figured that was pretty much all he needed to know.

Sunny was 19 when World War II broke out, so he enlisted in the U.S. Air Corps to become a pilot. His first week on base in California, he was assigned responsibility for more than 300 men as a squadron leader, which was pretty heady stuff for a young cadet. He was so full of himself, the buttons nearly popped off his uniform.

Norma Jean’s life was somewhat different, though not in a good way. Her parents didn’t know God. Their idea of being filled with the spirit was drinking 90-proof liquor from a bottle….

Read the rest of "Faith of our Mothers" by Keith Clemons

The other guests at the birthday party appeared to be having a wonderful time. I was counting the minutes until I could go home and read a book or design more clothes for my paper dolls. As soon as we’d eaten the birthday cake, I said I had to leave early. Dressed in my best party dress and wearing my white sandals, carrying a little basket of candy and trinkets, I fought to hold back the tears that started the moment I closed the door.

Our house was on the outskirts of town, and to reach it I had to cross a set of railway tracks. I stopped and walked along the rails. By now, I was sobbing in earnest, and I didn’t want my parents to see—didn’t want them to worry. I also was trying to figure out why I wasn’t like other people. For a moment, I thought it might be a huge relief if a train would come along and erase the pain.

It was 1955, and I was seven years old….

Read the rest of "The Diamond Ring" by N. J. Lindquist, The Word Guild Award double winner, 2009

The bitter Yukon wind tried to bite through our parkas as we stood on the tarmac of a small airport, waiting to board a plane to Alaska. But my friends and I were so excited, the cold couldn’t dampen our enthusiasm. We smiled and chatted with one another as our luggage was loaded. We were on our way to a women’s retreat.

I was a brand-new Christian and these women were new friends, so I stood back a little and just listened as the conversation flowed. I was still going through a bit of an identity crisis as I adjusted to the idea of being a Christian and tried to fit into the new culture to which I now belonged. At times I felt more than a little out of place and alone.

As the plane bounced over the frozen terrain and lifted into the air, I let my mind speculate on what the weekend would be like. I’d been asked to give my testimony, but I wasn’t worried. I expected the gathering to be small, as most were in our tiny northern town. Since I had been raised in a tradition where “retreat” meant deny yourself, examine yourself, and don’t dare say a word, I expected we would meet in silence. I expected the meals would be meagre. And I expected to be somehow changed. The last one was the only expectation that became a reality….

Read the rest of "An Almost Silent Friendship" by Marcia Lee Laycock

Listen to stories from Hot Apple Cider as audio files:

"The Diamond Ring" by N. J. Lindquist