When the Fog Won’t Lift
I woke up this morning with a heavy heart and a mind that wouldn't stop trying to troubleshoot my mood like a piece of broken software. It’s a strange irony that I spent years teaching my students to "fail forward" and embrace grace, yet I still struggle to extend that same simple mercy to myself. If you’ve ever found yourself stuck in the gray fog of your own thoughts, come read why the hardest person to forgive is often the one staring back in the mirror.
The Glittering Landmine
I remember a bright, kind student in my 1999 class who looked up from her Britney Spears binders and told me with total conviction, "I want to be her." At the time, the young star’s reputation was untainted, but I’ve watched enough shipwrecks in the press to know that what sparkles from a distance often conceals an ornate landmine. If you’ve ever been angry at God for withholding something you desperately wanted, come read why His "no" might actually be the very thing saving you from a dream that would eventually destroy you.
The Theology of Tarzan
I grew up thinking that repeating someone else’s prayer was a bit like cheating on a grammar test, as if God only graded the papers we wrote from scratch. But when life gets heavy and the words won't come, I’ve found that my prayers often have all the unrefined eloquence of Tarzan calling for help in a Saturday afternoon movie. If you’ve ever felt like your prayers are too blunt or awkward for Heaven, come read why a simple, desperate cry is often the fastest way to reach the hand of God.
The Disappearing Act
I spent years balancing a growing family and a heavy college load while driving endless, lonely miles between airport pickups. Those long drives taught me that a library audiobook can vanish like a magician's coin if you don't click "renew" before the clock runs out. Our spiritual lives work the same way—if we don't intentionally anchor ourselves in truth today, yesterday's peace has a habit of disappearing into the fog of tomorrow's worries.
The Vinegar Wake-Up Call
I reached for my first-day-of-school coffee expecting a much-needed jolt of caffeine, but I ended up with a mouthful of hot, cleaning vinegar instead. The shock of that bitter brew stayed with me all day, serving as a vivid reminder of how easily our own words can sour the lives of those around us. If you’ve ever caught yourself shifting from praise to complaining in the blink of an eye, come read why it’s time to rinse out the bitterness and start building others up.
What We Can’t Put Down
I’ve kept a plastic bag of half-dollar coins for over thirty years simply because they mattered to my father, a man shaped by the Great Depression. It is a harmless bit of nostalgia, but I’ve realized that we often carry much heavier things—like the sharp sting of old failures or the stains of words we can’t take back. If you are struggling to let go of a past that feels like a prison, come read why the goal isn't perfect amnesia, but learning to let God redeem the weight you were never meant to carry alone.
When Discouragement Stalks
I spent yesterday being stalked by a heavy discouragement that felt as real and shadow-like as a wolf on my heels. It’s easy to think we need more willpower to fight off the blues, but sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is admit you are hungry, tired, or just plain spent. If you feel like your story has hit a dead end, come read why God’s answer to the prophet Elijah’s despair wasn’t a lecture, but a meal and a long nap.
The Unavoidable Traveler
I leaned against the railing of a cruise ship and realized the greatest downside of any vacation is that I have to bring myself along. No matter how blue the water or how full the buffet, my old habits, worries, and impatience always seem to find a way to stow away in my luggage. If you’ve ever tried to escape your troubles only to find them waiting for you at the next port, come read why the "good life" isn't a destination, but a relationship with the One who overcame the world.
The Lower Lights
I stood on the cold, gray granite of the New Hampshire coast, watching a lighthouse beam pierce through a biting wind that felt a world away from my Texas home. I realized then that while the great lighthouse marks the shore, it’s the smaller "lower lights" at the harbor’s edge that actually guide a ship safely through the jagged rocks. Our daily acts of kindness and encouragement are those smaller lights, and someone near you might be counting on your steady glow to find their way home tonight.
The Giant in the Ditch
I was out for a pre-dawn walk when a massive, looming silhouette near a drainage ditch nearly stopped my heart. I braced myself to face a giant, only to realize that things aren't always what they seem when the light hits them just right. If you’ve ever felt too ordinary or too flawed to matter in a much larger story, come read how a walk in the dark taught me that the size of a shadow has very little to do with the person casting it.