This post won’t be for everyone. But oh dear goodness, it will be for someone. Consider it a salve for the sisters who need less silent treatment and more Silent Night. Or a nod to those who secretly think Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer is a catchy little tune. Or a lifeline for
You never really can go back. You can rekindle friendships that still fit like a good pair of jeans. You can retrace contours of familiar country roads. You can even pull the flyers on a few for-sale homes just for fun. But you never really can go back. I spent seven years in my 20s and
I don’t even know how to process this day. In the morning, I watched news coverage of fire sparked by human depravity. In the afternoon, I watched news coverage of fire sparked by human ingenuity. I’ve never seen fire look so different. Last night, protestors and agitators threw Molotov cocktails that set America’s streets on fire.
“Your faith might feel shaky this Easter. But Jesus would rather you limp through the door than keep Him at arm’s length. And he knows a thing – or two – about arm’s length.” I wrote that two years ago, back when church doors were open. Back when we said the church wasn’t a building
This is the flower of a night-blooming cereus, a type of cactus whose twisted tangle of spines is ordinarily nothing more than a spindly eyesore. She blooms only when temps soar to triple digits and the desert floor cracks open with thirst. But, oh does she bloom. Her fragrant, palm-sized flower is called Queen of