This is my Daily Bread . . .

I gotta tell you--this morning in church we sang that Michael W. Smith song, "Breathe," that says, among other things, "This is my daily bread . . . your very word. . . spoken to me."

Since I've been partaking of the 90-Day-Challenge (or, as my friend Lisa calls it, "The Overachievers' Program"), my daily reading does feel more like a meal than a snack. My Bible margins are scrawled with smiley faces, exclamation points, and question marks . . . and I think God is happy with the fact that I'm reading and digging.

I sang a solo in church this morning, the first one in years. And I discovered that the world of accompaniment trax has gone to CD format, which leaves me with two drawers full of cassette tapes, a shiny new cord to link the tape player and computer, and a stack of blank CDs.

Yesterday I painted a room, upholstered three barstools, and recovered a hope chest that had seen much better days. Today I shall turn my thoughts toward technology . . .

I love weekends.

Angie