Three weeks ago, I lost my sister to metastatic breast cancer. A week after her funeral, my dad passed away from dementia.
I’ve heard many different methods for writing a book. The best advice is, of course… Just write it. But […]
I don’t believe in Jesus all the time. You might. This has not been my experience.
Sometimes God uses a sign or wonder to let us know we don’t need a sign or wonder.
We are all the same when it comes to Life. We are all trying to do better.
Amber is a new breed of wordsmith. She hasn’t pounded out a phrase with a literary hammer until it falls into place. Instead, she has knit phrases softly together, or rather, brush-stroked them into existence. They don’t proudly display themselves before us—they dance with grace and humility.
I am BARELY evangelical, hanging by a thread.
It happened to him, the same as it happened to me.
As I pulled into a rainy parking lot, I whispered a prayer for our time together, because I know that sometimes a meeting can change everything.
Jesus rose on Sunday. We rise on Monday. A chance to start over. To begin again.
We’ve been told that we are made in God’s image, yet we are light years apart. Sometimes I just wish he were more like me.
I will not be casting a vote for Trump because I simply do not believe in his politics. But he IS my brother. And I’m no better than him. Not one bit.
Maybe the moment you flip God the bird is the exact moment he looks into your eyes and says, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”
It’s 5:55 in the morning and I am watching Chuck Norris sell gym equipment. Christie Brinkley has somehow been roped into helping…
God is either a dream come true or an absolute nightmare. At times I’ve wondered.