There’s a peculiar way we humans make our bargains. We light candles in the dim hours, or close our eyes under the quilt, or murmur into...

I was asked, not long ago, to describe my relationship with God. It was a quiet afternoon, the kind where shadows from trees keep time on...

There’s a kind of mercy in forgetting. A gift wrapped in shadows. I think of it sometimes when I watch dust rising behind an old pickup...

The morning whispers that get carried into the waking hours. It isn’t loud, and it doesn’t make a fuss. It curls up beside us under the...

There’s an old story. You’ve probably heard it. A man’s boat sinks out at sea, and there he is, arms wrapped around a buoy, salt water in...

It started with the air. Not a loud bang, not a crisis. Just the simple fact of waking up too early because the bedroom was too hot. The...