Live With Flair

Today my youngest turns 10 years old. I’m so happy that she’s her. My prayer for her is that she, too, will be happy that’s she

I’m reading Psalm 115 and the repetitive cry of the psalmist: “Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory, for

I am reading again Sheldon Vanauken’s book, A Severe Mercy, a love story indeed.  As the author discusses what it was like to consider faith

Kindergarten brought with it the Green Apple Cupcakes for the birthday class treat: First grade? She wanted Stiletto High Heel Cupcakes. Second grade? Of course:

I’m listening to a professor who teaches on adolescence and girlhood describe what happens to identity in a culture of selfies posted on social media.

Sometimes I sit in my chair with my Bible and journal, and I grapple with all sorts of complex theological issues. If I’m not careful,

I read the simple reality in Psalm 139:5 that God “hems” us in, and His hand rests upon us. The verb hem means to completely

I notice the strangest thing: the old, gnarled trunk of the Weeping Cherry–the same angry trunk that looks haunted and dead–has blossomed into the most

I’m not sure why, but I rarely find students using verbs that start with the letter B. I check. I do. It’s a strange phenomenon

When my youngest was just a toddler, we visited a home where the mother displayed the weekly dinner menu on a big chalkboard in her