If you were to ask me what I understand the Sunday service is for, I would say to meet together to remember and ingest our shared ...
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Like a Kid.
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My boys find a project box with glow-in-the-dark inks. I work on my couch, computer in lap, hoping ibuprofen kicks in. They call me and ...
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After the eggs and maybe cinnamon toast, as soon as we can get something pulled over our heads, we go outside. You, my little sister, ...
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This, here, this is often not what I think it is, this magazine in my face and right behind it a little boy, naked, in my lap. He peers ...
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Right after Christmas, I confessed it, that I was over it, but when I took the tree down, the nativity to its box, all three of our ...
