Deb Palmer

Hereare a few"take-a ways" from our story...
God is clearly the hero of the story. We are merely bit players (promising comedic relief) in the grand divine scope.
God loves us here and now and He has incomprehensible patience and persistence in the pursuit of our hearts.
Most of what we treasure and cling to in this life is balderdash.
The characters in this story are familiar, living next door, seated at your holidaydinner table or maybe, in your mirror.
Seeking God is addictive in the best ...

Chicken Soup for the Soul’s first-ever humor collection, and the timing is perfect. This is storytelling at its funniest.
“Trick or Treat,” by Deb Palmer

If laughter is the best medicine, then this book is your prescription. Turn off the news and spend a few days not following current events. Instead, return to the basics—humanity’s ability to laugh at itself.

Maybe you should even do a news cleanse for a few days! Hide under the covers and read these stories instead. Or read a chapter a day, or a story a day for 101 days. ...

The Lighter Side
Bert, a Guy in the Bible

The Lutheran Digest
Volume 66
Winter 2019
Outside the Church Doors

By: Deb Palmer

“Oh that we might have the wisdom to stop, lean down and pick up the scattering of things that we’ve so thoughtlessly discarded along the way. For if we were to do so, we would suddenly find ourselves holding the very treasures that we’d been looking for all along.” ― Craig D. Lounsbrough

Rejection.

I’m sorry. I won’t be shaking my pom-poms cheering a positive mantra like “rejection sprouts good fruit.” I know what happens when I eat too much fruit. Likewise, rejection overdose...

Today we continue our first Essay Week, featuring the work of a new writer each day. Enjoy Thursday’s piece.
by Deb Palmer
In the early 1990s, Central Washington University bounced with fresh skin, high hopes, gel-spiked hair, and me. At least that’s how it felt. A single mom, pushing forty, striving for a degree promising to pay bills. There were others sporting crow’s feet, suited for the staff lounge, awkward in the student hub, but we were few.
The desire to fit in with the puffy banged g...

God flipped the forgiveness switch in my heart
My childhood nemesis: Roberta Sherard. She flaunted perfection, from the house next door to mine, twirling polished pirouettes, a blonde ponytail floating in slow motion behind her. I tried to keep up, spinning and stumbling, bedecked with scabbed knobby knees, red hair doomed to frizz by a home permanent gone awry. Roberta spoke softly, poise oozing out her pores, a finishing school graduate. I reeked of awkward, spewed hillbilly slang like “War...