If we don’t choose the wilderness, it usually chooses us.

How a night by the river and the crackle of a fire served as good medicine.

A day I will never forget.

How a weathered baseball near a headstone made my mind race to fill in the gaps.

There’s something to be said for a relaxing, storyless weekend. Our bodies need that sometimes. But I think our minds and hearts need adventures too.

One woman’s legacy of hope.

God wants to use you right where you are, even, and especially when you feel like you don’t have anything left to give.

Even if we don’t understand or appreciate someone’s preferred method of communication, the connection is what matters. And why wouldn’t we want more of that?

“Sauntering is no more vagrant than the meandering river.”

I wish I had some deep insight after losing so many close friends in such a short amount of time. Instead, I often feel numb. Maybe it’s my way of bracing for more loss.

The busyness and noisiness of life jar my soul. I realize now that I need to schedule some pilgrim time.

Front porches are open invitations. They are void of schedules. You don’t have to call or text first. If people are on their porches, they are fair game for a visit.

How a trip through a small town in Missouri allowed me to contemplate how much the world has changed.

Paying tribute to legendary college baseball coach Mike Martin.

Did Dad purposely place this photo in his Sam Snead book, knowing I would end up with the book and experience this range of emotions the day the photo dropped into my lap?

I am reminded that life’s favorite places are not just about geography; they are about the moments, the people and the emotions that form an intricate web of meaning.

Spiritual numbness is subtle. Until it isn’t.

Agreeing to another weeknight activity means spending 15% of our weeknights on it. And if you agree to enough of these, you end up without enough time and space to breathe, think and rejuvenate.