That’s what I told a few of my closest friends on Facebook yesterday. I was kidding (sort of), but I wasn’t lying (not at all).  Even as we speak, the

Standing there in the light of the tree, I open it up. Little, my helper, leans forward, eager to see. I lift the protective covering, and there they are, the

Jesus in skin, receiving the needy, a line of humanity bedraggled stretching before him. There, the woman bent with an issue of blood that had kept her weak. Behind her,

He was born, the child was, at 24 weeks’ gestation. Just a handful, really; a mere feather on the scales. One pound, 8 ounces it read when they laid him

Well, that was an interesting week.  While the rest of you were going about your daily lives, trotting to work, riding shotgun on the kids and paying your bills, this

I’d texted in a panic. That quick, she’d called, hearing me out and walking me through. Then she said it, the nugget-truth that turned on the light:  “He always intercedes

Oh, goodness. If that wasn’t just the lesson He’d been teaching, my Sovereign Instructor, for months, years. Doors yet closed. Praising, sacrificial. Wait time, long, and what to do out

The scales of justice are out of whack. Wildly so, if you ask me. Why is it that when the demands of life are at their peak, your energy’s gone?

Rainbows. Houses. Families. Animals. Grass, in green. Trees, trunks brown. And yellow, yellow suns shining awkward in the corner of the sky. Who could tell, looking at new crayons marching

And it came to pass in those days that there went out a decree (okay, an invitation) from Mrs. Schrock that all the world—wait. That certain members of the Tribe