Lori FreelandLori Freeland, a freelance writer from the Dallas area, holds a bachelor's degree in psychology from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. In her other life, the one BK—before kids—she has worked as a social worker and a certified dyslexic reading tutor. Currently, she embraces her status as full-time homeschool mom to three awesome children. Her big dream? Becoming a Young Adult novelist, a goal she diligently pursues during the wee hours of the morning with help from a very large mug of coffee and occasionally some chocolate-covered peanuts. In addition to blogging and contributing regular inspirational articles to Crosswalk.com, The Christian Pulse, and Believe.com, she loves to mentor new writers and encourage people to share their life stories. As a member of the Cancer Mom club, she desires to connect with others in hopes of giving support to those struggling down the messy paths of life. You can find her hanging with the North Texas Christian Writers as a Critique Group Leader and Writing Coach or cheering on her writers on the Faith Team at The Christian Pulse where she recently took on the role of editor. She also loves to attend Society for Children's Book Writers and Illustrators meetings where she has begun a critique workshop for new writers. You can visit her website at LAFREELAND.COM.
- 2012 Jan 04
I spent a weekend up north in Bayfield, Wisconsin last October. I had not experienced such a spectacular fall season since moving to Texas over five years ago. The entire trip, I couldn’t stop gazing at the profound beauty surrounding me.
Vibrant oranges, reds, and yellows dotted the landscape. Had the colors deepened since I’d last been here?
Fallen leaves covered springy green grass and gray fractured sidewalks, crunching under my feet. Had the dying leaves grown crisper?
The smoky smell of dried firewood seeped from fire pits and wood burning stoves to warm the air. Had that inviting scent intensified?
Separation dimmed my memories of this awesome display. I had forgotten how amazing fall could be. When I took the time to come back and view the wonder, I remembered all the fall seasons that came before.
That’s how it is when I set my Bible on the shelf. I forget how God’s Word speaks into my life as a moving, living force. The relevance dims with the distance of time, until I skim through the pages and begin to read. Then the words flow and come alive in arrays of colors even more amazing than autumn in Bayfield.