Sandra Heska-King
“Once a nurse, always a nurse,” some say. But these days I care for (and care with) words. I live in Michigan and write from a 150-plus-year-old family farmhouse with a wrap-around porch set on 60 acres surrounded by corn or soybeans or sometimes wheat. I spend way too much money on books, and I find my inner happy when I wander a woodsy trail, sit at a water’s edge, sip a new flavor of tea, or eat M&M’s the proper way— from a crystal dish, one sweet circle at a time. Find me at my blog or on Twitter
6 posts
Pancakes, a Plate, and a Pair of Strangers

“These look good,” I texted my sister, and I sent along a link to Bobby Flay’s recipe for Chocolate Chip-Pistachio Pancakes with Salted Caramel Syrup (total time 55 minutes, level: intermediate.) I knew I wouldn’t make time to make them, but I knew she would the next time I came home. And she did, because she loves to cook and loves to experiment on our family. But, sorry Bobby, they just...

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Leaving Home

What we call the beginning is often the end And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from. ~ T.S. Eliot, "Little Gidding"   The men are laying new vinyl today. “Do you want the seam here… or there?” asks the one in charge. And I’m thinking, I don’t care. I won’t be living with it. This will no longer my home....

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Inventive Hospitality

Several weeks ago, our Sunday School class held a Chili Cook-Off. I brought bowls of shredded cheese and sour cream to help calm anticipated spicy fires of the tongue. I also won second place with my vegetarian chili, substituting ginger ale for the beer. The recipe is in GraceTable’s free Fall-Winter Volume I cookbook for subscribers. Anyway, that night I spent some time getting to know another class member better....

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Serving Up Love

Hospitality should have no other nature but love. ~Henrietta Mears I’m sitting at our white porcelain-topped farm table facing a new stainless steel sink (goodbye rusted white cast iron) with the bronze faucet that reminds me a little of an old well. The 50-year-old cabinets I painted blue when we moved in 25-plus years ago are gone. They’d been disintegrating and dusting themselves all over their contents, so I’d have...

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When Hospitality is Caked With Dust

Show hospitality to one another without grumbling. (1 Peter 4:9 ESV) My dad’s told the story a quadrillion times. How I overheard him say he’d like fish and fried potatoes for breakfast. So one morning I rose early (Dad says I was probably only 10 years old), grabbed my fishing pole and a can of worms, and walked down to the lake. I pushed our boat out into the water...

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Breaking The Border Of Self

I shook my head and sighed as I folded yet another frayed towel. We’ve had these light mocha (now practically cream) towels for what seems like forever, and to replace them is low on the needs list. But the other day I used a Target gift card to buy just one big, fluffy, white bath towel. The kind you set aside just for guests. But this one? This one I’m...

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