I dream of being as eloquent in my mouth as I am in my head. I dream of seeing a word on paper and making

She was genuine in her outlandishness. Her appearance wasn’t a way to cover up or hide — it was a way to be herself.

My Ferris wheel metaphor also means I tend to get a little melancholy when we begin the descent, when the humid days of August wind

Woody dropped out of school in 8th grade after the teachers at his Christian school told him he “wouldn’t amount to much.”

Church spaces are full of small talk. It’s often in narthexes and the backs of sanctuaries, during coffee hour or community meals, that our children

In my Grandma and in these aging characters, is found a softening that comes with experience and making one’s own mistakes.

When I turn to look out that window, the squirrel and I seem to have a staring contest. “What’cha going to do about it?” he

I considered lots of words. I felt called to steer away from productivity, from the false illusion of self-control. What I might need is not