There are times when dying feels like death. Having grown up in a Christian church and home, I’m well-accustomed to the language of “dying to self” and “taking up my cross.” The words are readily on my lips when someone speaks of sacrifice, or the call to missions, or the call to serve their local
The plump envelope sat on our kitchen counter taunting me. It’s shape and size set it apart from the bills and junk mail in the pile. I looked at it out of the corner of my eye, avoiding direct eye contact as if it was an old acquaintance I thought I recognized in public but wasn’t quite sure. Flipping
This post is Part III in a mini-series on marriage. You can read Part I – the Friendship of Marriage – by clicking HERE. You can read Part II – the Ministry of Marriage – by clicking HERE. 3) In marriage, you chose to make your husband your primary family. I miss my family. I am one of
This post is the Part II in a mini-series on marriage. To read Part I – The Friendship of Marriage – click HERE. 2) In marriage, you chose to make your husband your first ministry. I love ministry. I really do. It’s the reason I’ll commit to twenty-six ministries in any one given season. It
People will tell you your wedding day will be a blur. As you inch toward the end of your engagement, married couples will tell you, almost incessantly, that you won’t remember much of your wedding day. Maybe this is true for them, but it was not true for me. I remember. I remember the buzz
I have always been a pretty confident person. Growing up in a family with nine children, my confidence set me apart from the pack. Every Christmas my father would write our holiday letter and two phrases were repeatedly used of me in my early years: “a pit bull on red bull” and “tiger meat wrapped
We sat beside each other in our self-made cocoons. Wrapped tightly in routine and habit, neither of us spoke. I don’t want you to imagine it was a quiet scene – no, there was noise all around us. The dialogue from that show that we could never get into, but was always on when
I let go of his hand, draped across the console separating the drivers seat from my own, and tucked it into my pocket. I wasn’t sure why, but I knew I didn’t want to feel his fingers nestled between mine just then. It wasn’t something he had said or done, it wasn’t the recall of
In our household, I imagine much like yours, our days are quite full. The morning starts early and is quickly filled with tasks that demand completion. We’re diverge outside our apartment door and each go the way of our own to-dos. Austin and I rush through our day at work, running to the post