I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to mediate the heated dispute between two neighbors on the jogging trail that day.
When we welcome the three-legged chickens, we very often find ourselves surprised and delighted by the ways God blesses our lives.
They say something always breaks in the first week of a spouse’s deployment. Maybe this is a gift in disguise.
There is no meal I look forward to as much as our annual Easter feast. My enjoyment of other festive meals always pales in comparison to Easter dinner.
I wonder what was going through Mary’s mind while the angel spoke to her.
The hardest part of gardening is always the waiting.
Please, please, please, if you love me (and the rest of your readers) … don’t be boring.
In this second article in a three-part series, we’ll explore my second-and-almost-as-important rule of writing for Lutherans: Tell the truth.
Writing is hard. Always. It takes time and discipline, skill and creativity, guts and humility, no matter the context or the audience.
I first encountered morning and evening colors at Naval Station Newport in Rhode Island.
It began with one of the most powerful superspreading events in history: three thousand people at a single gathering. Although civil authorities were immediately concerned and quickly stepped up enforcement efforts in an attempt to isolate and quarantine the infected, it was too late. First the contagion spread like wildfire throughout the city, then it popped up seemingly at random in another city three hundred miles away and quickly spread there.
On paper, the home we had rented sight-unseen was perfect. It had the appropriate number of bedrooms and bathrooms for a family our size.