I have come to see the forgotten, so I may testify to their story back home. Deep in the sister’s eyes, I am awed by her faithfulness.
I have come to see the forgotten, so I may testify to their story back home. Deep in the sister’s eyes, I am awed by her faithfulness.
When I look at our (un)civil discourse these days, we need some hope. People are tired and angry. But, can hope be found?
Recently, on a flight here in the USA, I found myself in the presence of great love that was better left undisturbed.
We are asked to love with what we have, no matter how little we may think we have to give. We are asked to lean in, love deeply, and to do so faithfully, even when it hurts.
I will never know what it means to fall to the bottom of a well.
Thankfully, few of us do. But that is an image that has been with me for more than 10 years. Few probably know that, so that’s why I begin “Dear Tired,” here.
Dear Tired, 