She’s burrowed straight into my heart, this one, and I’m just that happy to see her face. She asks a question that starts it off, and there we go. I’m

That is one big number. In this case, it is, though it’s not so large when one is discussing, say, cups of coffee consumed in a week or the number

My thoughts, they are wandering; scrolling; rewinding to a few desperate days in the past. Days when I’d flung myself across the bed, face down, in afternoon’s quiet and wept

If part of getting older is learning to know yourself better, then I’m getting older. It was recently that revelation struck, a flash of self-discovery, and I shared it with

Spring; new birth. Easter; new life. But first, the winter, and death. Easter, with resurrection life and promise. Sweet Easter that came through a cross and a tomb. Death first.

It was a story that gripped the world for days. A Boeing 777 carrying 239 souls; missing. A desperate search by numerous countries; nothing. Questions in a multitude of dialects

It’s a phenomenon that has swept the nation. With few exceptions, it’s one that the Schrocks haven’t embraced. It’s reality TV, and it looks like it’s here to stay. Every

“Carefree.”  I wait. Heart beats sure, throbs steady in the still of the morn, and Jesus, He speaks. “Care-free.” I’m listening; just waiting, for He’s stirring.  God, I sense, is

Just as things began to lighten up, it hit. You crawled into bed on a Saturday night. After flipping and flopping to find just the right spot, your flannel-clad posterior

I see you here at the start of another week. I see the crease that lines your brow; note the load upon your back. I see, too, that place of