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This gallery contains 2 photos →
Photos of furry creatures … videos of cute animal antics … stories and movies of animal adventures. These are popular because they evoke feelings of wonder, memories of beloved pets, the joy and excitement of wildlife sightings, the sensory experience of a trip to the farm.
Have you ever noticed how many book covers feature pictures of animals? Evidently, animal pictures on covers help sell books. We have a few books with animals on the covers, ourselves. I looked inside each of these books for some clues as to why animals trigger such heart responses in us.
Here is what I found:
In God’s Creatures: A Biblical View of Animals, Susan Bulanda explains that God cares for his earthly creatures. He created them, blessed them, called them “good.” He saved the animals from the Flood, and he included “every living creature” in the covenant he made with us after the flood (see Genesis 9:9-17). Bulanda goes on to show that many Scriptures display God’s care for animals. Old Testament laws protected animals. Jesus’ parables affirmed and spotlighted them. Then, Bulanda asks:
“Is it possible that God has put the desire to care for all animals in the hearts of many people … God’s love for his creation showing through humans?”
and
“Could there be subtle lessons of love God gives us through our pets?”
In Walking In Trust : Lessons Learned with my Blind Dog, Gayle M. Irwin describes an afternoon of companionship with her dog:
“Snow falls in large flakes outside my door this afternoon and a warm Sunday fire blazes in the wood stove inside the house. Sage has found a way to wedge herself into the over-stuffed chair. At first she lies quietly stretched out beside me. Then, as if she has an itch, she suddenly rises, turns herself around and lays her head on my chest. I pause from my reading to softly stroke her black and white fur. She sighs deeply and tries to snuggle closer. I pet her long muzzle and then scratch behind her ears, a favorite spot of hers. As I minister these gentle strokes, I tell her what a wonderful, loving dog she is. Sage closes her eyes, relishing the experience. I, too, bask in the tender moment. My hand rests lightly on her shoulder and we sit like this for hours—protected from the frigid cold outside—in comfortable, companionable silence inside our cozy house.” … “I learned more from Sage than she did from me: lessons about trust, courage, loyalty, contentment, and perseverance.” … “Sage’s visits and her life story encouraged many children to persevere in spite of the hardships and challenges they face. Through the life of a blind Springer Spaniel, I have learned more fully what it means to walk by faith and not by sight.” (p. 145 and 9)
In All We Like Sheep: Lessons from the Sheepfold, shepherdess Marilyn Bay Wentz writes:
“I continued cutting out the weeds, but the burdensome task was balanced with the delight I felt watching my flock. I knew the serenity of the scene could be broken at any time. Movement as mundane as a startled Cottontail rabbit jumping from behind a bush to hop across the pasture could send the flock running for the protection of the pen. … In that moment, the joy of the Lord, expressed by the psalmist when he said ‘We are his people, the sheep of his pasture,’ made perfect sense to me. God compares his delight in me and you to a flock of peacefully-grazing sheep. He could have compared his delight to another animal in his creation. Why not say we are his people, the horses of his stable? Horses (which I am partial to) are beautiful, strong and fast. Surely, the Lord delights in seeing the horses he created. Or, why not compare his delight in us to that of seeing a lion? Male or female, a lion is a powerful and awe-inspiring animal. Or, surely the Lord is delighted to see the soaring eagles he created. They are simultaneously fierce and beautiful. They can soar high and dive powerfully. Their outstretched wings are a wonder to behold. But, he says I am as pleasing to him as the sheep of his pasture. To please him we don’t need to be fast and athletic like a horse, powerful like a lion, or beautiful and awe-inspiring like an eagle. What pleases him is when we, like the skittish sheep, run to him for everything we need, trusting his sufficiency to supply all our needs.” (pp. 156-157)
In his allegorical fiction, The Dangerous Journey of Sherman the Sheep, Dean Davis describes the Shepherd taking his flock to the “high country”:
“Their destination was a lonely valley deep in the hills and an ancient sheepfold with four high walls of stone. This became their home away from home, the place where all their journeys began and ended. Early in the year, when grass was plentiful, their travels were short, hardly more than outings. At dawn the Shepherd would open the gate of the fold, whistle for the sheep, and lead His flock to a nearby meadow with a pool of fresh spring water to drink. Then at dusk they would all return to the safety of the fold’s strong walls. But as spring gave way to summer, and summer to fall, the journeys grew longer and more difficult. They’d be gone for many days, camping beneath the stars or in caves. The meadows grew fewer and the water more scarce—and to find these, the flock had often to follow their Shepherd through dark, narrow canyons, where wolves or lions might be lurking in the shadows. … Yes, this was the dangerous time of year, a time when sheep could get hungry, thirsty, or even hurt. Needless to say, the Shepherd took such dangers very seriously. But as for the sheep, they simply trusted in their Master’s care. They knew that sooner or later He would give them rest, just as He always had. (And as for Sherman—well, for him danger was just another word for adventure; and adventure was the one thing Sherman loved best)!” (pp. 8-10)
In Gadly Plain: A Novel, J. Michael Dew uses the literary device of a talking donkey who has lived since the Garden of Eden. This donkey represents the victory of life over death, of God’s overarching purpose in human history. This same donkey had gone up the mountain with Abraham and Isaac, had talked to the prophet Balaam, joined the other animals in Noah’s Ark, carried Mary to Bethlehem and witnessed the birth of Jesus. Toward the end of the book, the donkey, who is named Amen, is on the Isle of Patmos with John the Apostle. Amen and John share this conversation:
“Amen,” John says one day. “I have a story to share, a new one as fresh as a spring blossom.”
“My ears, friend, are big,” says Amen.
“I have seen the end and the beginning, the omega and the alpha. I have written it on a scroll. There is something you should hear.” … (Read the novel for more…
Since this post was first published we have released a new title about The Animals In Our Lives: Stories of Companionship and Awe, with stories contributed by many Cladach authors and friends. (Click the title or the cover image to learn more.)
We thank God for the varied and wonderful world of animals both domestic and wild!

If you’re a word person, as I am, then perhaps you also have “a love affair with words.” You use words, but take care not to abuse them. You like to play with words, but you also take them seriously. You cherish them, listen to them, pray over them, respect them, have faith in them, and you know when to release them.
Words are a writer’s tools, the building blocks of our stories, articles, blog posts, tweets and books. Words have power. With words we instruct, entertain, woo, influence, write and speak.
God spoke the world into being. Jesus is the Word become flesh. Spoken words matter. Written words matter. Every word matters. They matter because they enable us to see the unseen, to know the unknowable, to grasp the undreamed of.
The well-chosen correctly-used, creatively-connected, ingeniously-employed word has power. If your words fit that description, and they are prayed over, respected, understood—then these words may form a piece of writing that is Christ-infused, Christ-honoring, and Christ-giving to a person and a world that needs the living Word.
~Catherine Lawton, publisher/editor/author

An Enchanting, Illustrated Story-in-Verse for children—and for adults with childlike hearts—who enjoy a Fresh Perspective on Advent, and for those who enjoy experiencing God in nature. In full color:
(Click covers to learn more.)
An Exciting Adventure Novella for Youth and Adults ~ Set in 1864 Frontier Colorado:
A delightful, unique, and reverent short-short Christmas Nativity Story (written from the viewpoint of Mary’s donkey). Available only on Kindle:
From noted and accomplished poet, Mary Harwell Sayler, a collection of poems for every holy day, including a section for Christmas:
A blessed Advent Season to all our friends, readers, and customers.
Many readers are also writers—whether published or not.
Are you a writer of sermons, blogs, letters, poetry, memoirs, essays, or books?
I invite you on a journey with me to discover, discern, and re-affirm a creative, organic, adventurous view of writing and publishing ministry today. Join me on this journey by reading my latest book, Write & Publish Organically: Dig Deep, Tend the Soil, Help Newness Emerge.
My vision of faith-based writing and publishing is like growing a garden that is not only productive but beautiful and good and true. It gets you in touch with “what is really real.” It gives life to all touched by the garden: workers, pollinators, neighbors, and consumers of the garden produce.
How does this vision fit within a post-modern, increasingly pluralistic and secular society, and a divided political landscape?
Churches are re-evaluating what ecclesia means, many Christians are deconstructing—and some are reconstructing—their beliefs. A growing number of the population identifies as SBNR (“spiritual but not religious”). They include the “Nones” (no religious affiliation) and the “Dones” (those who have left organized church). In this changing landscape how and what do we write and publish—especially in a sustainable way that will last and continue to grow and have influence?
In Write & Publish Organically, I consider five aspects of what I call organic publishing: Soak, Spoke, Evoke, Provoke, and Stoke. I show how we need to …
I choose the mindset of an under-gardener. My Father is the Gardener. Working with the Gardener, I purpose to dig, prepare the soil, and sow seeds with well-chosen, apt words. The resulting fruit may never be fully seen or measured. But I will seek to cultivate wheat, not chaff, and do it with love.
Join me, fellow writers and take the challenge of writing organically.
~Catherine
More about the book HERE.

We are a nation of immigrants and descendants of immigrants. The voices and stories of immigrants remind us of our history. They can give us perspective (and hopefully wisdom) as we move into the ever-renewing future. My friend Alice Scott-Ferguson immigrated to America from Scotland as an adult. About her roots, she writes:
“In a land of deep class divides, my parents were not from the nobility or elite or formally educated. They were people of the land and sea in the farthest reaches of the United Kingdom, the Shetland Islands, where the sun never sets in summer and the aurora borealis dances in the long, dark winter skies.”
Many of my ancestors also came from the Scotland, Ireland, and England—but way back during the Colonial period. They crossed the Atlantic to the New World for economic opportunity (survival?) and for religious and personal liberty. Each generation moved steadily westward across the expanding frontier, seeking new beginnings and opportunities, until they reached the Pacific Ocean. And now some of us have moved back eastward. My ancestors include farmers, preachers, teachers, homesteaders, soldiers, and laborers. Many generations of blood, sweat, and tears have soaked into this land from shore to shore.
We are America. “This Land is My Land” we have sung with gusto. But I wonder: Does our subjectivity make it hard—even impossible—for us to take an objective look at our country, our land, our nation? Have we become full of “hubris,” as Alice has penned (in her poem below)?
I think the voices of immigrants, who continue to choose to come to “America the Beautiful” to seek life and opportunity and freedom, are voices we need to hear and heed if we want to “trade our hubris for humility,” as expressed beautifully in this poem:
Pilgrim from a more restricted place
to America, the parent
of my progression
land of my adoption.
Country of limitless opportunity
for me and my progeny,
ever grateful
sometimes sad
land divided
in agony
in greed
in need
of a re-birth of soul
into a vibrant whole
not of uniformity
but of unity
in our differences
in our sameness
with the world
though still we hold
that glorious space
of being
a framework
of freedom.
Wide and wonderful land
open your arms of welcome
let us love one another
let us not fear one another
let us harness the love
and discover fire again.
Let us trade our hubris for humility,
thee and me.
(excerpted from Pausing in the Passing Places)
Photo credit: Original Oil Painting by Amy Whitehouse

We feel sentimental, grateful, or maybe sad on Mother’s Day.
Mother love is beautiful. In many ways it reflects God’s love. It is something to celebrate.
But giving and receiving love between mothers and children doesn’t always come easy.
So many obstacles can get in the way. What do we do, then, with mother wounds and losses, the conflicts, and the unmet needs we may carry? In the book, Journeys to Mother Love (Cladach, 2012) nine women – mothers and daughters of all ages – share how they overcame hurts and conflicts between mother and child, experienced relational healing, and found new freedom to give and receive love. Women with broken places in their relationships with mother or child can begin their own healing journey as they read:
“Run, Run, as Fast as You Can” by A.R. Cecil
“She Did Her Best” by Treva Brown
“Take Care of Your Mother” by Verna Hill Simms
“Finding the Blessings in Alzheimer’s” by Kerry Luksic
“Beauty from Barrenness” by Kyleen Stevenson-Braxton
“When I Feel Forsaken” by Catherine Lawton
“Finishing Well” by Ellen Cardwell
“Walking My Mother Home” by Ardis A. Nelson
As always, I appreciate readers and reviewers taking time to contribute their responses after reading the book. For example:
“An anthology of heartfelt true stories by Christian women about the healing gifts of God, and how He helped mothers bridge rifts between themselves and their children or stepchildren…. Profound, powerful … highly recommended.”
− Midwest Book Review
“The emotional distance between a mother and daughter can be painful and prolonged. The heart-wrenching stories in Journeys to Mother Love reveal how God can bridge this chasm with healing and love.”
− Nancy Parker Brummett, author of Take My Hand Again: A Faith-Based Guide for Helping Aging Parents
“From murder to manipulation, Alzheimer’s to abandonment, through barrenness and bewilderment, this crisply-written compilation of stories is arresting and unflinchingly honest. You will find elements of your own journey in all of them; you will want to join the company of these courageous women who are now traveling with less of a limp and more of a leap.”
− Alice Scott-Ferguson, author of Mothers Can’t Be Everywhere, But God Is
Motherhood is a journey! As Caroline Kennedy wrote in She Walks in Beauty, “Having a child defines us for the rest of our lives…. Each mother-child relationship teaches us our limitations and our strengths. It changes us in constantly unfolding ways and entwines us in the unpredictable mystery of another life….”
(This post first written in 2017 and revised May 10 and 13, 2024.)

In this poetic essay I engage with the idea that we need to get involved—with others—in what God is doing in our world. Will we listen to what the past and present are saying, so we can move together WITH our loving God now … stepping into the possibilities that call us to a renewed future?
When the angel said to Mary, “For nothing is impossible with God”
and when Jesus said, speaking of the rich young man, “With God all things are possible”
did they mean that God would single-handedly make seemingly-impossible things happen?
Well, surely “with” means with. Possibilities are not actualities. But they can become so.
First, choices will be made . . . by God, by us. . . .
Choices matter in each
And, as in the case of Mary, life-giving choices and actions don’t happen alone but
WITH.
Whence comes this ability and necessity to choose, this invitation to respond and cooperate?
—From One who speaks potentiality, beauty, and creativity out of Love . . . connecting us as persons, relating us to all of nature, to every part of ourselves, and to God (through Christ who gives us life and the Spirit who is with us). We are image-bearers. We are all in some sense
WITH.
Living here in time and space, each of our moments is thick with the past—and pregnant with the future—calling us to be creators, curators, visionaries, encouragers, healers, leaders, servants.
Will we
receive the breath
heed the voice
cleave to the nearness
of God?
Will we give birth to actions of faith, hope, and love
WITH?
Look up—attend, listen to this present moment.
Look back—see the river of the past feeding into the now.
Look down—see that we are standing in an estuary of the potent, teeming present.
Look toward the horizon—see the future rolling and swelling. Which waves will break upon the shore?
Look around—all that surrounds us, that the river currents and ocean tides wash in, how it is mixing. At this time, in this place, what can we do to bring
WITH?
We are part of the becomingness of everlasting life!
Will we face the moment, listen to what it is saying about us, about the past that has influenced who we are, about what we are bringing into the future, and what the future may be bringing to us?
God—being revealed through Jesus, the Scriptures, and creation—is patient, persistent, longsuffering, even slow . . . convincing, helping, here
WITH.
Like compass needles, we seek, seek True North; and True North wants to, wills to, be found.
Yet, bent, we wobble and resist.
But God is not a faraway star. God is
Does the needle think it is the true one and North should get in line?
God “strengthens the humble but opposes the proud.”—
This is to say, when we set ourselves in opposition, we cannot join hands
WITH.
No matter where we go, where we have been, where our feet stand now in time . . . we are not alone, never away from God’s influence, care, wooing. If “God with us” holds all our times past—keeps our “tears in a bottle”. . . . If God at every moment sees all the possible steps into the future. . . . If God imagines the myriad possible intersections of our path with the paths of others. . . . Then let us act, step out, take hold, clasp hands, join hearts
WITH.
Forces exist that would divide us, separate us, within, without.
God—Love—would bring us together.
In this estuary of the consequential, substantial present . . .
The young gambol in swirls of fresh water, thinking they’ll forever play among the land mammals, trees, and sun-drenched grasses.
We who have traveled longer sense saltiness in the water and feel the undertow pulling away from familiar moorings. We will soon find ourselves in the waters of what from here appears to be dark swelling mysteries and unfathomed depths … to a separation temporal, but a connection and communion everlasting.
Fresh water and salt water mingle here and now, but these waters continually recede, like breath and blood flowing in and out of lungs—rhythms of life attuned
WITH.
If we have a God who speaks, comforts, helps,
and in whom “all things hold together,”
then surely God is continually present to us and all creation?
And if God’s Spirit is manifest “wherever two or three are gathered,”
then surely God the Spirit is speaking and influencing here, there,
WITH.
In this moment, are we thriving?
How can we continue to stand, let alone flourish, if divided against ourselves—lacking harmony in our inner lives, our families, our churches, our nations, our world?
We say we believe some form of:
Then God isn’t against us but
WITH!
Can we agree, in this in-between time of grace and faith, as we open our hearts and minds to the Alpha and Omega, to seek God’s reign and will “on earth as it is in heaven,” and work together
WITH?
This moment carries roots and leaves of past moments and seeds of all future moments. What we do—now—matters. Is this present mix of waters rich with life and health both ecological and societal? Jesus said we are “the salt of the earth” and “the light of the world.” We are caretakers of creation and each other when we partner
WITH.
Why do we blindly and stubbornly waste personal and corporate energies on greedy squabbles and turf wars?
Can we
Surely our God of creative, gracious, relentless love, will help us to join
WITH.
We need each other.
Will we lead the way by giving up worn-out stances, protectiveness, fear?
Let us be conservative—conservers of the truly good.
Let us be liberal—truly generous and tolerant.
We can each take responsibility to do something to make a positive difference, to be life-giving, to partner with God and each other in what Love seeks to do and calls us to participate in, as co-laborers. This labor is not burdensome, when we are yoked
WITH.
I know some people who choose to listen to, love freely, and work with God to sweeten the waters where they stand:
WITH.
We stand here in a richness of the influential past and the potential future
as hope enlivens the waters. Will we:
WITH God?

“With” (here slightly revised) was first published in the book Partnering with God. (SacraSage, 2021)
Unsplash Photos: 1) Joshua Gaunt 2) Nick Fewings


“I love to go a wandering upon the mountain track, and as I go I love to sing, my knapsack on my back…”* My sister and I learned this song in school as children. Living near the Sierras or Coastal Ranges of California, we would sing it together whenever we hiked up a trail.
Warm sunshine, wildflowers, scent of pines, and glimpses of wildlife delighted as we made our way up a winding path to our destination of mountain lake, trout stream, or lookout point.
I still like to trek trails and walk paths, and as I go I love to sing … or pray, or compose poems, fueled by the enchantments of the natural world around me and a sense of awe and companionship with God or with a friend.
… (Continue reading this post at my new, personal blogsite: https://prayerandpoetry.com/ )