Around this time a few years ago, my heart was feeling especially heavy for mothers and daughters. I imagine this was due to my own season of life, when my roles as mother and daughter were intertwined and always seemed to be morphing. My mom was in the nursing home …

God knows how the story ends. It was true about the story of Easter, which we celebrated a few weeks ago. It’s true about the story of COVID-19—what has happened, what is happening, and what the world will look like when it’s all over. And it’s true about each one …

After my dad died last May, I wrestled with “why” for several months. He was 86 and had lived a long, useful life, so my questions didn’t necessarily have to do with the fact that he had died. They were more about the heartbreaking events that led up to his …

Years ago, when Randy and I were waiting to adopt our older daughter, I wrote a book about infertility. The book’s introduction is titled “My Pile of Stones.” Here’s how it begins:

My mom died in April last year—on Good Friday, to be exact—and my father passed away five weeks later. Twelve months earlier, we never would have predicted any of this. My mom had Alzheimer’s disease and lived in a nursing home not too far from me. My dad lived in …