The Annual Menu of Bad Options
I sat at my desk staring at the open enrollment forms, realizing that my only options were to order a skimpy meal that leaves me starving or take out a mortgage for a dinner I can't afford. This annual ritual of choosing health insurance feels less like protection and more like returning to a restaurant where every entree is terrible, but at least the bad taste is familiar. After an hour on hold with the "dedicated team," I just hope my new plan covers the mental breakdown caused by the phone menu.
What Faith Looks Like in a Pandemic
School’s starting soon, and our “detailed” return plans are held together by Jell‑O. Anxiety among teachers is high, even more so with the virus still looming. Some say faith means no fear—others say wisdom may ask for caution. Is fleeing fear or failure of faith? Scripture doesn’t say faith always looks brave. Sometimes it looks smart, humble, or even quiet. And maybe that’s okay. This piece isn’t telling believers how to act. It’s offering a thought: faith doesn’t have one face—and maybe that’s a relief.
Carry On Like Normal
I taught in ten different classrooms before real stability—floated through schools like a substitute in my own career. Then came asbestos, portables, fire‑alarms that never shut off—and the refrain: “carry on like normal.” If harnessing chaos was a policy, we aced it. Now, “normal” feels almost fictional. And after 9/11 and hurricanes, COVID has rewritten even that. Maybe what needs to be normal is our care—not business, not calm, but our commitment to one another, even when the world tells us to act otherwise.
The Challenge of Not Being Foolish
When it comes to my health, I’ve made more than my share of foolish choices. For years I shrugged them off—until my doctor laid the truth out in numbers I couldn’t laugh away. Sugar isn’t only hiding in sodas or candy; sometimes it’s right there in the “healthy” things I thought I was choosing. That reality check stung, but it also gave me space to be honest, both with her and with myself. Foolishness doesn’t vanish overnight. But admitting it is the beginning—and choosing a better path, even slowly, is how it finally starts to fade.
20 Years of Self Delusion
Twenty years ago, diabetes walked into my life—and it was entirely my fault. For years I ignored the signs: constant thirst, fatigue, blurred vision, and the mounting risks that come with high blood sugar. I treated the warning signals like Homer treats his check engine light—ignore until it breaks. Only recently have I begun to accept that the right road isn’t glamorous or quick, but paved with small, rational choices made again and again. Maybe I should’ve started sooner. But starting late is still better than not starting at all.
A Little Bit of the Griswolds in Us All
Vacations—especially family ones—are less perfect adventure and more chaotic comedy. I chase the “happy upcoming thing”—autumn, holidays, spring break—but the escape often turns into a mess. Cruises rain disappointments: rough seas, thin tissues, missing salt shakers. Yet those ruined moments—a laugh with waiters, pepper shakers that aren’t even real—become the ones you remember. Just like the Griswolds, joy often hides in the ordinary, messy, grumpy parts. And maybe it’s enough.
Sticker Shock & Flowers
I walked up to the pharmacy counter expecting a routine twenty-five dollar transaction, only to be handed a total of three hundred and fourteen dollars. That three-digit number felt like a direct threat to my future, launching me into a spiral of anxiety about health, finances, and how much time I had left. It turns out that when the cost of staying alive goes up, the only rational economic response is to buy flowers for your wife and remember that peace is free.
Faithfulness in Small Things: The Parable of the Talents Revisited
There’s a kind of emptiness I’ve seen in students who seem perfectly capable—present but not present. It’s like they’re slipping through the cracks of their own potential. That’s what made the Parable of the Talents hit me differently. The servant who buried his gift wasn’t lazy—he was afraid. My dad, by contrast, never waited for work to come to him. He collected soda bottles, worked without complaint, and never sat idle. Real faithfulness isn’t always flashy—it starts in those quiet, everyday choices to show up.
What Faith Looks Like in an Unraveling World
Four years after the chaos of COVID-19, life is still shifting underneath us—economy, unrest, people at each other’s throats. Some say faith means no fear; I wonder if that’s reckless. Scripture doesn’t say faith equals bravado. It balances trust and wisdom—like avoiding the oncoming traffic even when you're brave enough to cross the road. Sometimes faith is pausing, not running. It’s not a failure of belief. Maybe it’s a decision to walk wisely—and continue being a source of light anyway.