melba toast

From where I sit in the choir loft, I can gaze into the faces of the people of my faith community.  There I can see looks of deep sadness f...

The problem with change is that once transformation occurs, one cannot go back to the previous way of being. This would not seem to be a pr...

Sometimes I feel like I'm hiding . . . in plain sight. Not seen or heard. Or understood.  When I attempt to translate what someone ha...

Knowing how Jesus died does not make me love him more; knowing the extent of my sin does not make him love me less. Reflecting on the hea...

Beep . . . beep . . . beep, the alarm sound I always regret hearing forces me to roll over and reach out to silence the clock, as my finger...

The sweet yet tart lemon pie filling resisted solidification as more time and higher temperatures were doing little more than burning what ...

Earlier today, I was supposed to be sitting in an afternoon workshop "exploring new and interactive ways to journey from the outer edg...