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“It’s time,” she said,
Slowly gasping for each breath.
“Time for me to cross the Jordan.”
She held my hand
With a cold, loose grip,
As if she were showing me
It was time to let go.

Tears began rolling down my cheek.
I tried to speak.
Mouth trembling.
Hands trembling.
Heart trembling.
“I love you.” 
Suddenly, a perfect peace
Appeared in her eyes.
I held her hand,
Watching as she dipped her foot
In the cold waters of the river,
Crossing home to her eternal
Promised Land.
This poem © Kevin Walker. Published July 2012.
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Schools around Ireland’s midlands welcomed the Big Red Bus last week as the Creative Arts team and a short-term team from Georgia put on puppet shows, crafts, songs and Bible stories. In the afternoons, the team held a kids’ club in Battery Hei…

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“I send twenty-five cents for The Way,” Agnes Floyd of Michigan wrote to editors A.J. Tomlinson and M.S. Lemons in September 1905. Her letter continued, “It is a very good paper. I like to read such papers and then give them to others, praying th…

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My friends and colleagues know that one of my passions is writing. Like any writer seeking for excellence, I use the “spell check” function in my word processing programs – whether I want to or not! Spell check can either bless you or bug you! Mi…

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To fight for it
Is an honor.
To live by it
Is to really live.
To love it,
And serve it,
Is what life is all about.
This poem © Kevin Walker. Published July 2012.