I would accuse God of not caring, but why did I care, if not because he did?
Why We Care
The Belly of my Ship
This is my hope in life and death. In pandemic quarantines, and chronic illness, and uncertainty about loved one’s health. In anxiety, and weakness, and broken bodies, and the world’s innumerable sadnesses. Jesus is still alive, even when it doesn't feel like Easter.
If We Are Kings and Queens
Self-deprecation comes naturally to me, and in my brokenness it often feels right to slouch in a corner, to make myself small under shame for fear of doing wrong. At the window by the pines though, the Spirit speaks to me of a better way.
Your Achingly Beautiful Perseverance
I’m not sure about the exact numbers, but a good portion (maybe most) of the books I’ve read for leisure in the past few years have been memoir. So many things about the form captivate me. The intersection of storytelling and deep reflection, the invitation to walk the landscape of the memory through well-crafted vignettes, …
My Boy’s Question, and Mine Too
Sometimes, the questions we hurl in desperation to the sky are signs we are holding onto the mustard seed of faith entrusted to us, even though we walk weary and broken in this world. Sometimes our why’s themselves are a sign of belief in a world where tornadoes exist.
Keeping Heart 