She could’ve knocked me over with a feather. “Hey,” she’d said in a breezy email, “I have a last-minute scheduling conflict. Could you host the show? It’ll be easy.” It

The substitute teacher, she calls them over. They gather, bodies squirming, on the story rug with squares. Row upon row, they “criss-cross applesauce,” eager for the story to come. I

I’d told his story in this week’s column. How he’d been so sick when he came. How we’d prayed and God healed, and why ours and not others’ babies, I

Note:  This Grounds for Insanity column was published in the 10/01/12 edition of The Goshen News. It had come several weeks ago, slipped into the box with the rest of