Soundtracks
May each breath be a soundtrack of praise that the Lord may inhabit all that I am, so that others may know all He is.
Slow Down
Slow down, He says. Don’t work so hard. Read more. Write more. Sing more. Rub your wife’s feet more. Breathe.
I Drop My Sword
I drop my sword and cry for just a while
Deep inside this armor
The warrior is a child.
Clay Doesn’t Get to Choose
Clay does in fact get to choose: Whose Hands we allow to form us.
Bruises
I am grateful that God sees all the bruises we try to hide, both inside and out, and can heal them with a touch.
Wonder Woman in Apron Strings
Joyce Adams, Mom, Grandmother, Great-Grandmother.
Enough Said.
Struggling to My Knees
Staring as raindrops pelt my window, tapping out their rhythmic chant that seizes my aching heart. The drops gather and race past, carrying with them remnants of dust and springtime pollen. Similar drops well up in my eyes and trickle down my cheeks as my hands tremble. The day has been chaotic, a culmination of …