End of school tyranny had us under its thumb. Finals, papers, concerts, and cramming rained down on the Man Cub and writing deadlines had me in their crosshairs, too. “I’m off to the grocery store,” I announced to my then 15-year-old son. He nodded and I breezed out the door. Time was short, my list
I feel like one of you needs to see beauty come from a hard place today. You need to be reminded that God has a long résumé of making unattractive places fertile and unlikely people fruitful. You need to know He still releases prisoners from darkness, brings beauty from ashes, and causes palm trees to
My friend Carol Reeve logs a lot of miles. She has traveled all the way from L.A. to D.C., or for those with more European sensibilities, from Madrid to Moscow. On foot. And that’s only during the actual marathons she has run. Factor in her four to five days a week of training – multiplied
I didn’t love much about my maiden name of Huth. Americanized from the guttural, German “Hütt,” it was mispronounced in classroom roll calls and corporate phone calls. But it did give me the best nickname in the history of softball. Babe Huth. I know. It almost makes me sorry for every other player who has
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