Why does God allow life to get so incredibly dark before He shines through?
Four reasons to quit writing and why I still do.
Tonight, I want to talk to you about something I’ve cared deeply about for a long time. . . loving those who are tough to love.
Back in the old farmhouse, Grandma kept a cactus garden. A clear Rubbermaid tub about two feet by three feet and ten inches deep was home to a small log cabin, a china woman, a forest of cacti, and one precocious brown plastic squirrel….
Weekday morning, sitting in my row, Sun warming wood to a burnished glow, Soft and silent this sanctuary here, Waiting, expecting Sunday. Weekday, morning, I must sit still, Listening to the Father, if I’d do His will, Stopping to be silent and sanctuary here,…