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Facing the Brokenness
On our way home from town last weekend, we passed a familiar sight: a man digging through a bag of trash, someone else’s trash. And my heart broke. I’m still so affected by this, I thought, having lived in our African town for nearly eight years. My next thought followed instantaneously, Lord, please don’t ever…
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On Wrestling with Time
My oldest walked out of our family room to join us at the dinner table, and said, “Oh, I don’t think this was supposed to be left on the stove.” Our eyes all went to the stringy, melted mess of plastic she was holding; it was a Fisher Price kitchen pot from my childhood days.…
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On Perfectionism
I’ve never been a perfectionist; or so I thought. When I think of perfectionism, I think of my sweet mother, who made certain her quilt’s corners were flawlessly square and cringed as I eye-balled all of mine; or, my brother adjusting every setting on his camera until the exact balance is achieved while I snap…
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