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Taking the Long Way Home
Three weeks ago our family packed all of our belongings into the largest U-Haul we could rent and said goodbye to the only place we’d ever called home. We are certain God has called us to this new place, but driving away from all you’ve known is still hard. The last little league games, school days, and best friend goodbyes are bittersweet. Excitement mixes with sorrow as we embark on a new journey—a new way home. In the car driving away, minutes turn into hours. You remember all you’re leaving behind in the rearview mirror. You day dream about what lies ahead in a new place. You follow the twists…
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Shades of White—Part 2
A couple walks through the snowdrifts, clasping the others’ hand, as they slowly make their way through the deep, wet wonderland. With each step they give each other balance, courage, and strength. As they look over their shoulder, they see two pair of footprints, gently mingling with the mud beneath. Bright white snow turned ivory with wear. Ten years ago I posted this just nine days before my wedding day. And I couldn’t help but revisit it. Today Turtullian’s timeless words, penned in the 200s, still hang in our home. Their endurance reminds us what it takes to make a marriage beautiful. How beautiful, then, the marriage of two…
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Freedom to Do What?
Another celebration of our country’s freedoms will occur in just a few days.[1] The focus is generally on friends, food, and fireworks. Our country’s freedoms somehow seem to get lost in the celebrations each year. This is a sad reality, but an even sadder reality occurs in our everyday life concerning freedoms. I tend to forget these freedoms and spent some time recently reminding myself of them. These freedoms seem to come on the flip side of some things I am naturally bound to do. With the occurrence of COVID-19, I am more aware of my seemingly loss of personal freedoms during 2020. I am naturally bound to want to…
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Longing for Home
You wouldn’t normally notice her. Her desire was to be inconspicuous. She was parked under a scrawny tree in the middle of an empty, sizzling parking lot. I hurriedly drove past her intent on beating the lunch crowd. Her car doors were open. The contents of her life swelled to the roof and eagerly anticipated the consumption of her car. She was still there when I returned an hour later. I debated. “Should I just pretend that I didn’t see her and go on about my workday? Surely someone will stop and offer her assistance,” I reasoned. Then the guilt kicked in: “But, what if no one else sees her?…
