Author Archives: Loretta Fulton

QUIT FINGER-POINTING AND ACT

By DANNY MINTON When I was five years old, our garage almost caught on fire because of a burning mattress. Someone was playing with matches, throwing them behind the old mattress when it suddenly caught on fire. My brother, who was three years old, and I were sat down and interrogated by my dad. “Who started the fire?” “Gary did,”

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MEMORIES OF MAMA

By CAROLYN NEWMAN On Sundays we would go to a Gospel Sing. Mama would fry chicken and often slipped me a wing. Then she baked a cake with raw eggs in the batter. I got to lick the beaters, uncooked eggs did not matter. First the preacher preached, then we sang and sang. My stomach started wanting “nana puddin” with

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MOTHER’S DAY: A REMEMBRANCE

Note from Marianne Wood: My mother, Marjorie Andrews, passed in 2018, but her legacy continues as I now download books from Hoopla, Kindle, or Audible, enjoying the delight of opening up a new world via the written word. And I have a warning for parents who read to their children: books may so inspire them that they wish to travel,

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NATIONAL DAY OF PRAYER SERVICE

By LORETTA FULTON A local National Day of Prayer service will be held this year, despite the COVID-19 shutdown, but it will look a little different. Instead of worshippers holding hands, hugging, singing and praying next to one another, participants will be asked to stay in their vehicle and listen on the radio. 1-Kingdom, an organization of local pastors and

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GIVING A RIDE PROVIDES A LIFT

By LORETTA FULTON Not long after the word “coronavirus” started popping up in the news, Brian Massey called social workers at Hendrick Medical Center to see if he could help. Some people are just like that–looking to help, not looking to hunker down. Massey, founder of Houses for Healing, is one of those. Over the past few years, he has

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FINDING THE HIGH PLACES

By NANCY PATRICK As a young mother with a thirteen-month-old baby boy, I lived in northern Illinois with my pastor-husband and our infant son. Other than the first five years of my life spent in my birthplace of Arkansas, I had never lived outside Texas, my adopted home state. Adjusting to my role as a new mother, a first-time pastor’s

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