Why are we here? Even as a writer, I so often find that words fail me. They fail to express the swarm of emotions that swirl around us in the ebbs and flows of this life. If you’ve been following us on social media, you’ve no doubt heard of the passing of my Grandpa Larson.
What to say. Oh, what to say. More often than not, my words fail me (hence the need to type them out once my brain has had a chance to connect with my tongue). A few months back, my husband took the pulpit to preach to our small, faithful congregation that meets each Sunday morning
It is Finished: My husband delivered a few meditations at our Good Friday service yesterday, and as I sat there with my three fussing children, crayon wrappers littering the aisle, the smell of a poopy diaper wafting through the air, I listened passionately to the words he shared with the congregation. And then, tears began to