I want to come home. I want to see goodness where I feel bitterness. I want joy where I feel pain. I want peace where I feel uncertainty. I want to belong where I feel disconnected. As hard and humbling as it will be, I want to come home.
I pray like an adult with a bulleted agenda instead of like a child who just wants to sit with her father.
And behold, Elizabeth, your relative, has also conceived a son in her old age, and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren.
Dear NRA, do not tell me that gun control is not my problem. In dealing with the immediate emotional and physical trauma after a gun shot wound, gun violence becomes my problem.
"Still loving the ED? I was actually hoping to hear your thoughts on working there. I'm currently in the ICU."
Political issues are more complex than flyers allow for, and it frustrates me when some group tries to boil my faith down to voting for a particular political party.
"That's how she knows the difference between a boy and man / Take a drunk girl home."