Leigh Ann Northcutt
My swing hangs from the front porch of a nicely worn farmhouse in western Kentucky.
In the yard, my husband, a pretend farmer, plays with the cats that eat our mice, the dogs that lick our kids, the chickens that poop on our porch, the geese that attack our neighbors, a goat that ate the tree that was planted in my mother’s memory and a potbellied pig that once lived in our spare room.
In the house are our five children: the pretender, the ditzy one, the middle child that nearly caused me to tap out of the parenting bout, the one we leave places and the drama queen. They all grew up here. And now they have added three in-laws and four grandchildren to our comedy of family errors.
For the last 30ish years, I have been sitting in this swing gathering material. Now, I am writing the stories.
The humor stories about my family have filled blog sites, newspaper columns and magazine articles. Some of my tales have been published in Chicken Soup For The Soul books. One particularly pitiful family story earned an honorable mention in the 2014 Erma Bombeck Writing Competition. You can read it here.
The God thoughts I write are just that . . . thoughts. They are not necessarily conclusions. They are certainly not dogmatic beliefs.
They might, sometimes, be infused with tongue-in-cheek humor. Most of my thoughts come out that way.
Maybe, they will make you smile. One or two of them might make you cry. It could be that you will simply roll your eyes, as does my son, the seminary graduate. Hopefully, they will make you seek.
For me, they are mostly an act of worship.
Our stories about life with God are the most precious things His children have to offer the world. I love to tell mine in any way I can. I speak them as well as writing them when I have the opportunity.
Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever. Let the redeemed of the LORD tell their story. Psalm 107:1-2