Above all, trust . . .
Twenty-three days ago, a friend who came for dinner brought three yellow roses. Two aged as expected, their heads drooping after seven or ten days, begging to be laid to rest.…
Hope when sin hurts
“Jesus’ table is not a potluck.” Andrea’s words continue to echo in my head, settling me deeper into grace. It has been a month of staring sin in the face…
Good news when life gets messy
There’s a little voice whispering in my head, “Let it go, move on. No one wants to hear about Easter any more. That was three whole weeks ago.” The little…