The Reading Room
A Few of my favorites...
Thomas burst into his home as evening shadows fell across the threshold. He quickly shut the door behind him and began to sob. Sweat beaded along the back of his hand as he struggled to secure the lock with trembling fingers. After several attempts, the bolt slid into place at last.
He turned to lean against the door and slowly slid to the floor. Jesus, Thomas’s Rabbi, his Messiah, was gone.
Mourn with Those Who Mourn
The road trip to visit family had been long, but we were home at last. I stood in the kitchen, surveyed the chaos and wondered where to begin. The counter was cluttered with the piles of unread newspapers and mail that had arrived in our absence and the remains of the picnic lunch we ate on the road. I lifted a large cooler from beside the sink and placed it on the floor to unpack as my daughter walked into the kitchen. She leaned against the counter and plucked a small candle from the midst of the clutter – a candle that bore the imprint of a tiny child’s hand on the side.
“What is this?” she asked me.
Letting Go…My Daughter Goes to College
Jesus Calling Blog
Grieving in New Orleans
Sometime around 3:00 a.m. The Big Easy finally settled down to sleep. Behind more layers of locked and barred gates and doors than I had ever experienced, I lay awake in the dark next to all that mattered most to me: my sleeping seventeen-year-old daughter.
She wanted to leave me, you see, and I, like some kind of idiot, seemed to be assisting her in the process.