There are some kinds of grief that don’t announce themselves. They don’t cry loudly or demand attention. They don’t collapse you to the floor. They simply settle in—so softly that, over time, you forget they’re there at all. Threnique. Carrying grief so quietly that even you forget it’s there, until something small brings it back….
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Resting on the Wings of God
Some ideas do not begin as plans. They begin as moments. Quiet ones. The kind that almost pass unnoticed if we are not paying attention. One mid-morning, I was sitting at our dining table writing when I noticed a small bird perched on the stair rail outside. It was not doing anything remarkable. It simply…
