Demons of depression chased me home. Hurrying, I pressed into the door. Before turning the handle, I rushed to Jesus, Whisper Your sweet everythings into my ears. The one way the raised in Christ endure in all this dust and ash is praying in spirit and truth. God knows I want to fight my own fights….
Home Is Where the Heart Is (Or Is It?)
My parents bought a home in the country after marrying. Almost 60 years later you wouldn’t recognize the place. The lengthy gravel driveway I ran barefoot is buried under burning asphalt. The mulberry tree, turning our fingers purple, was cut down decades ago. Corncrib tunnels I climbed, peeking through wooden slats, was taken by tornado….