Drawn to a boy who I knew, far down in the soul of me, was too far to grab and pull close enough to swallow.
Not all marks are permanent or fatal. They are not all pain-filled or laced with regret.
Last year I wrote about my Blessings Jar. It was an opportunity to document the encouraging moments and be more present in the daily gifts I’ve been given.
Leave it all at the door. Leave it at the foot of the bed. Leave it where it can’t be retrieved and reworked into the present.
May God bless you with discomfort at easy answers, half-truths and superficial relationships, so that you will live deep in your heart.
He looked up and me, ashamed. Not a look I expected or hoped to see in this old man’s eyes.
I want to share one of my personal secret weapons with you…