More than once I’ve checked my luggage, boarded the aircraft and nestled into my seat only to bolt through the open cockpit door and onto the jetway before realizing all the implications of what I had done.

When we pray into another’s situation, the forcefield of stagnancy is pierced. And through the hole created, a life-renewing energy moves in. This energy begins to devour the unhealthiness; first there is this subtle, curious difference, then an otherworldly lightheartedness is felt.

I think I stopped wanting something. At least something big. Maybe even something as necessary as breath.

Getting to know ourselves better is an extraordinary mission. The knowledge we seek is so often already within us. So, why do we hide it from ourselves?

The secret to life is to undertake something bold enough to make you pause, and necessary enough to do it anyway.

What is precious, it seems, is not the moment just before us, but the longings of a life we once had, remembered as better than the life we live.

We were certain. Not that He wanted the house for us. But that we wanted it for ourselves.

I imagine hanging by a rope off the edge of a cliff and deciding to release my tightened grip. There’s the possibility of a freefall, but what if instead I am dangling only 10 feet from the sturdy ground that lies directly below?

I imagine hanging by a rope off the edge of a cliff and deciding to release my tightened grip. There’s the possibility of a freefall, but what if instead I am dangling only 10 feet from the sturdy ground that lies directly below?

To say that I am stuck might be a little too dramatic. But I find myself relating to these noisy geese in their urgency to be heard.

Life is most beautiful when studied in contrasts. Like roses in the snow.

It is said that the benefits of a workout impact the body for up to 72 hours. How much more, then, can 17,262,720 sacred minutes transform the cells within me.

To say I blinked and now we’re here would be to disregard all the living that happened in between.

How extraordinary that all eight of us marked the passage of 14 months since fighting for our lives together with shared dignity, curiosity, and grace.

That his [hundreds of] WWII letters are in my possession is not a little providence. I am my father’s daughter, compelled to sit with the musings of my heart until the right words come.

As we walk, I am given instructions: Hands to side. Cheek facing out. Lean out and down as far as you possibly can. And I remember thinking in my excitement that he shouldn’t be captive, he should be free.

It’s extraordinary that the disposition of our spaces is nearly always in alignment with the condition of our hearts

Sometimes it feels impossible to find the words to tell someone just how important they are. And sometimes a tender comparison is all you need.

Our names are set apart. Chosen. Imagined long before our births.

You may think it sacrilege but as much as Christmas is an infusion of hope to humanity, these needles are liquid doses of life to me.