I’m awakened by the sound of my daughter’s voice, “I want French Toast, mama.” Through sleep-dimmed eyes, I notice she stands next to the bed–a peace-offering in her hands and a wide grin on her freckled face. “I’ve brought...
The imperfect Christmas unfolded like a crumpled piece of gift wrap–its bright colors diminished by the absence of a firstborn son and a father more dedicated to the child than the comforts of home. And I think of the journey he made yesterday in a quest to...
I’ve been away for a few weeks–crying out to God. Praying…weeping…grieving…and daring to hope despite my fear and unbelief. This heavy burden–unfairly thrust upon precious innocents–seems out-of-place with what I would...