“Redemption will never burst through the door waving a flag of victory. Instead, we must look under every rug we have swept our pain and tragedy beneath. We must write our names in the dirt left behind on the floor of our lives. And when we find the courage to write them out…redemption will come to us, the quiet hush within our hearts.”
But why did I ask the atheists to pray? Why them? Because…IF God is out there, I imagine that his ears would tingle the instant they spoke out to the heavens…”
This is about my sister. This is FOR my sister. She has stage four metastatic breast cancer.
Side-Eye: One’s criticism, disapproval or scorn toward another person. A sidelong glance expressing contempt. Before we were born, […]
When I was in college, I had a group of friends nickname me “Hope” behind my back. It […]
A good soul permeates the exterior and reveals itself…if only for the people that actually see us.
*”Addicted to God” is a chapter from my book, The Blind Writer: Finding Faith Beyond Our Christian Subculture. If […]
She (the church) has been pathological at times, so I stand beside those who have abandoned her – who may feel she abandoned them first.
I don’t do this simply to write the most beautiful line, but to right the most offensive wrong. That will always be my goal, my purpose, and my calling.
What happened to us is often not a choice. But the choice to recover, that’s on us. I wish it weren’t sometimes…but oh, my friends…it most certainly is.
I sat with a couple yesterday, as they told me about losing their daughter to Neuroblastoma cancer last year. As painful as their story was, they chose to sit smack dab in the middle of reality.
“…she grabbed handfuls of our hair and raked the razor blade in a downward motion…rake, rake, rake, rake, rake…until a clump landed on the floor. She called it “layering.”
Robin Williams has left us. We’ve been bombarded with blog articles, news, speculation on social media, etc…as to why he did this or what it means for those suffering from bipolar disorder or depression. The only short answer I could possibly give for the question, “Why did he do it?” is this…
“We place our fingers in position – we touch his lips, his throat, and lay our second finger across the bridge of his nose. We feel even harder this time, for the flutters of his mouth, the breaths, the separations and vibrations that compose the message of…”
“Those staircases that lead to the bedrooms we used to know have been transplanted into our souls. As Sarah Dessen said in What Happened to Goodbye, ‘Your past is always your past. Even if you forget it, it remembers you.'”