My dad was projected to live into his 90s. His grandparents and parents had, and they enjoyed relative freedom until the last days or weeks of their passing. He worked at being healthy through hard physical work, regular stretching, cutting out sugar, and staying busy with volunteer work. Graduating by the skin of his teeth …
On regaining control Realizing I had an addiction to scrolling mindlessly on Facebook, I decided to stop looking at it for awhile. Not only did I spend significant time mindlessly scrolling, I spent hours intentionally reading and responding as well. Sometimes periods of despondence would overtake me after I engaged in discussions that tip heavily …
13 months: on addiction to Facebook, not getting what we wanted, and “God is good” Read More »
Philippians 1:6 “Being confident of this very thing, that He which began a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ” It has always struck me as odd that God is so willing to let us grow slowly into being more like Christ. He’s willing to let the process continue …
I’m a nurse at a hospital where I work twelve hour shifts. Across the United States, nurses who work twelve hour shifts are considered full time if they pull three shifts a week; I generally do two shifts, sometimes three. To most people outside of nursing, working two or three shifts a week sounds like …
As a writer, a wanna be writer, a wanna be book author, a blogger, a person living out many of the common human experiences, I think often of how there is nothing new under the sun. People are remembered for hundreds of years because they’ve done something different from the ordinary, and yet most everyone …
Brad and I are exhausted. It’s not something we enjoy, as in “enjoy every minute of it,” that phrase dispensed like vehicle exhaust on a tired runner by well-meaning parents who are past this stage. In our exhaustion we always come back to the understanding that these days are numbered, they could be so much …
Uncontrollable storms I didn’t live through Hurricane Katrina, but Brad did. He called me from Picayune just before Katrina’s flouncing skirts and thundering, twisting, spinning fingers began engulfing Mississippi. Then the line was dead and I didn’t hear from him for five days. All I could see was the flooding, the wreckage, the ruin. Rumors …
