On some level, we’re all freaks. Acknowledging that might help us to cut our fellow freaks a little slack once in a while.

Our legacy isn't just in the big moments, but in the small, intentional acts of connection.

In a world that seems to spin faster each day, I can't help but think that a return to the dinner table is worth savoring.

I’m learning to create and cherish spiritual pauses – knowing that in those moments, clarity often follows.

A heartfelt recollection of a first childhood crush, and the innocent, all-consuming feelings that came with that early experience.

Mo matter how much time passes, I can still see Biscoe on the porch, flipping the pages of his newspaper and Sadie with her iced tea, offering me a sense of home and belonging.

I wonder if our collective return to the tangible is a search for something more than just nostalgia.

Memorize a joke or two and use it as salve on somebody who is hurting.

I went in hoping for a quick lunch and left feeling inspired and hopeful.

Reminiscing about the time my 15-year-old niece asked me to pick her up some Airheads and Bug Juice. I didn’t have clue.

The apostle Paul didn’t say anything about finding contentment in vehicles … or even shelter. Food and clothing ought to lead to contentment.

Sometimes the smallest victories are the ones that shape us the most.

I’ll brave hailstorms for deep connections.

I was probably too young to be going on a mission to save my dad, but when someone you love is in trouble, you answer the bell, no matter the level of your preparation.

We all have a story to tell ... if anybody will stop and listen.

Reading opened me up to new worlds, new thoughts and new experiences. And it made me realize my struggles were common.

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.