The Man at the Post Office
Brown slush the color of cold globs of gravy plastered Main Street as I dashed across it to the post office. I wasn’t thinking of
Let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus…
(Hebrews 12:1-2)
Brown slush the color of cold globs of gravy plastered Main Street as I dashed across it to the post office. I wasn’t thinking of

I’ve been thinking of someone I never met ever since August or so when we started the remodeling project. I’d give a lot to know

Just how important is perfection? Last weekend we had a church retreat and all the adults shared their life story. It was inspiring to hear

In response to the recent series on hospitality, writing friend Hilda Barnhart sent me this piece which she wrote 25 years ago, about one week

I’ve been mulling over the exhaustion I experience after serving people, or just after caring for a high-octane toddler. Is that what hospitality is? Is that what service is? Is that what raising a child is? Giving until your throat hurts and your back aches? Facing deep weariness, but then remembering that you are greatly privileged to be part of something splendid and un-reproducible?

The big hurdles were the missing host, an unusually fussy toddler, and a deep theological conversation turning intense.