My thorn in the flesh remains just that – a sharp, relentless thorn.  We’ve prayed for months, and still it sticks; stinging, burning like fire (some days more than others) as we

“I left a part of me there,” he said only this morning, feeling it keen.  I smiled.  “That’s how your brother felt when he went to Mexico.” They’d returned, those

When you write, it feels as if your words tumble out into a great, black gulf.  You can’t see people’s faces. Can’t look into their eyes.  You don’t know for sure if anyone

Inventive critters that they are, they were launching themselves off the side of the trampoline on that tire swing, one of them with whoops of delight (Boy Two), one of