I held my grandson, our eighth grandchild, in my arms. I search for words to describe that feeling: holding someone who is not your own, yet is. A child so fragile and so strong, entering a world of fears and hopes, victories and defeats, hurts and pleasures. And he is unaware of it all. Quietly, …
Driving to an early-morning meeting, I see the break of dawn as upbeat music fills the car, and I feel energy running through my veins. Then, in a matter of moments, I drive through one of those Kentucky knobs; suddenly, I’m hidden in the fog that masks the risen sun. As a light rain patters …
Anticipation. Carly Simon sang about it, back when a slow drip of ketchup was the soundtrack to impatience. Countless books have been written about it, from Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot to a shelf of devotional volumes on Advent. And teenagers and young adults have danced to it in pop hits like Timeless (The Weekend) at school gyms and …
Our granddaughter, Noah Kate, is three years old, and she does not believe in sleeping in. Once she’s up, there’s no rest for the weary in her house. She marches into her parents’ room, flips on the light of her own internal alarm clock, and if told to go back to bed, she protests, “But …
There it was, like a gem glittering in a jewelry store, nestled among watches, rings, and bracelets — one of those pieces you have to stop to find. In this case, it was a lone sentence hiding in a list of names. Hushai the Archite caught my attention as I rambled through a description of …