I’m 42 years old and back in school.

As someone who works most weekends and just about every Sunday night, I’ve developed the good discipline of taking Mondays off.

I knew I didn’t walk into that room alone.

Four years ago, shortly after our church moved into its new ministry center, a member of the congregation sent three plants in celebra

Throughout history, human beings have been struck by the wonder of mysteries we do not fully understand.

Somehow, watching my younger sister Jessica cross the finish line of the Boston Marathon convinced me that it would be a good idea for

I am tired. Really, really tired.

The hissing of the breathing machine was the only noise in the room.

Let the wicked forsake their ways
and the unrighteous their thoughts.
Let them turn to the Lord, and he will
have

Though I’ve lived in this neighborhood for seven years, when I stop to think about it, I’m still surprised by that fact.

The blaze of candles gives a warm, waxy taste to the lungful of air I just inhaled over the birthday cake on the table below me.

This morning I’m reminded of a quote from the movie Ladies in Lavender: “Growing old is a gradual surrender.”

My husband and I have recently taken up a hobby that has most of our friends and family thinking we’re crazy.

We all begin as tiny, fragile eggs.

"So when are you ‘flock-worthy’?” a friend asked me.

Now and then my job allows me to read or tell stories to children.

I’ve thought a lot about God’s covenant promises since becoming a grandmother six years ago.

If I were an atheist (you’ll be pleased to know I am not), I would scan my fellow lumps of biomass and conclude, “Human life

have a friend with whom I hesitate to be seen.

. . .

An epiphany is a burglary in progress.

On a snow-covered hill, when I was in junior high, my life flashed before my eyes. In the brilliance, I caught a glimpse of God.

It was an 80-degree Saturday in the beginning of May—unseasonably warm for Wisconsin—and I was stuck at work.