“I’m not sure I’m supposed to even be writing.” I looked at my friend. Even in the first light of dawn, her downcast countenance was obvious. “I feel the same.” We were starting day three of a writer’s conference, and to say we’d had a lot of information thrown at us was an understatement. On more than one occasion, I’d heard the expression from attendees—and had even used it myself—that the information overload was “like drinking from a fire hose.” Even though I’d said it, I

Up until a few years ago, when I read the Bible, I read it as one it dimensional: black and red words on white pages. Then I watched a new series called The Chosen, which is about the calling of 12 disciples. As I watched the actors act out the stories familiar to me, something happened: the theater in my mind was activated and the stories came alive. That experience prompted me to change the way I read Scripture, to read it as if I’m a silent observer or even a silent partic

“Well, what do you think?” my therapist asked as she put the cap back on a white board marker.    A timeline of my life spanned the width of the eight-foot wide whiteboard.  While there were happy times identified, the entries in red—the times of grief—seemed to dominate the color of my life events. I snatched another tissue out of the box.  Seeing all the hard moments mapped in one place rendered me speechless.  Grief isn’t just the death of a loved one, it also includes bet

I carried the eight-inch stack of papers outside to the fire pit.  In my goal to simplify, I’d mercilessly purged my career file.  After...

I stopped in my tracks.  While I'd donated it months ago, I was caught off guard when I saw it hanging on the end of the clothes rack at...

I hear it coming from a mile away.  Every weekday morning for the past few months, a vehicle sputters and coughs its way along the main...

“I don’t get your interest in old things and dead people.”  My friend rolled her eyes and playfully elbowed me.  “How boring!” I just...