A Year in the Life
This series is designed for small groups that meet monthly. Each lesson contains a brief "slice of life" animated video followed by five questions or ideas to stimulate discussion and exchange.
12 1080p Small Group Discussion Series
There's a "For Rent" sign in front of a house near my home. It's for rent because the young mother who lived there with her husband and two young children committed suicide recently.
Time magazine once published a section devoted to the newest computer products. As I leafed through the latest gadgets and gizmos, I realized that the world and its technology was getting just beyond my grasp.
She's ironed my shirts now for over thirty years. It's not a big thing, but each time I go to my closet and see them neatly pressed and hung in a row I remember the early years.
I sat at Dudes for my regular burger and fry as a group from the local high school rolled in. They weren't any different looking than the other teens who populated the place at lunch hour.
The tornado missed my house by several miles. Storm chasers described its wicked course while reporters chronicled the destruction and death in real-time images that mesmerized viewers huddled around their TVs, unable to look away. A familiar spring ritual in Oklahoma.
I once knew a lady who abandoned Christ for golf. She played after work and then began to skip mid-week services to play, and soon was absent on "sunny" Sunday mornings as well.
I met an unpleasant man the other day. We didn't speak, only shook hands but his body language and the manner of his grip told me that he wasn't interested in speaking or knowing me. This wouldn't have been so bad except that he was serving as a greeter at a congregation I was visiting.
The wait at the tire shop was going to be a long one so I walked over to the taco shop to get a bottle of water. The young girl at the take-out window informed me that they were all out of water then quickly offered to get me a plastic cup filled with ice water and a straw. She offered it with a smile and refused my attempt to pay.
Ray Blanchard is the only teacher I remember from 9th grade. That was almost sixty years ago and yet I still can see him, short and squat with a shock of straight blond hair wearing his usual rumpled gray suit.
I was watching the endless rain. Saturday, Sunday and now a third day of gray drizzle continued as I found my way to work on a cold damp Monday morning. Folks came in telling stories of swollen creeks and flooded roads as the earth could no longer soak in the deluge.
Ah, the joy of a new car! It's the pride of ownership that I recently experienced in driving a vehicle that had neither scratch nor blemish. I took great care in staying away from runaway shopping carts slamming into me at the grocery store and not parking too close to other vehicles for fear of their doors opening and damaging the pristine finish on my baby.