It was one of those. The room was thick with Him and I was bold, and shedding old, dead skin felt like no kind of loss. I wanted Him more than I wanted what He might ask me to lose, in this one moment. I prayed sincerely, “Father, I surrender. Another layer. I...
She bristles, still, when I hold her. I kiss her stiff flesh and remember that friend who prayed “set yourself for 10 years of restoration” just before we left to go get her. I run my hands across my thirty-five year-old midriff at the comment of one who said “you...
“And, Jesus, for the men downtown who are poor and brokenhearted. I pray for them. Let them see you, right now. Let them know that you can heal their broken hearts right now, even if they don’t get any money.” The irony of this prayer that shot out...
[I wrote this post last week when walking through my own remnants of December-pain. I shudder to think of that mother who is standing over her child’s grave today. Though my own pain is nowhere near hers, it seemed fitting to still run as planned.] The first...
When the feast is spread, wide, across the table, spilling over onto little children’s laps and smeared across fingers and faces and filling our bellies, I want to remain hungry. Because He satiates in such a way that we can both be filled, and hunger for more....
I stood on the stage, a slip of a thing in those days, all 50-something pounds of me spotlighted. I’d finished my audition song and waited for the voices to break through the pitch-black theater. “So, can ya’ dance?” bellowed one, the...
