At one particularly low point last December, I stood outside my dad’s room in the rehab hospital and stifled back tears. An aide named Angie with a beautiful heart and lovely accent put her arms around my shoulders, prayed for me and told me I had to be strong.
At that point, I didn’t feel strong. I didn’t particularly want to be strong.
Forget lions and lambs. March is coming in like a polar bear here in my neck of the Midwest. On Sunday, church was cancelled because of the snow. A day later—16 days until the official start of spring—the temperature app on my phone said it was 0 degrees outside. My …
If you’ve been tracking with me for a while, you may have noticed that my writing has taken on a bit of a heavier tone lately. That’s not part of some new blogging strategy; it’s just life spilling out onto the “pages” of this blog. I go back and forth …
My church is doing a sermon series on Daniel, the Old Testament book that is centered squarely on the theme of God’s sovereignty. I sit in the service next to my 17-year-old daughter, a junior at a large public high school, and the current cultural relevance of this powerful portion …
How do you live with your one broken heart? The question Ann Voskamp asks in The Broken Way has come to mind frequently these past few months as I’ve tried to adjust to some sad new realities in my parents’ lives. And then there’s a variation on this theme that …
The infrastructure of my world has shifted significantly these last couple of months. At home, things are good. At least, as good as they can be when two teenage daughters are living with two middle-aged parents in a world full of cynicism and pain and unanswerable questions. We each have …