I didn’t know her, but the vulnerable thoughts she’d penned pierced my heart. I realized where I was stuck. I was stuck in jealousy–wanting the childhood she had. Wanting. Wishing. But, not having. She spoke of jealousy, but what I heard in those words? Grief....
My son’s pint-sized body huddled beneath the bed covers as if the thin cotton cover could shield him from any enemy. Since his father had deployed to Afghanistan, Seth’s fear had transformed into something destructive. An ever-growing-never-contained-despair rooted in...
