Mama. Oh mom, oh mom, oh mom, oh mom, my 13 year-old moaned. My stomach hurts so much. Mama, please come. I wished he’d called for Papa instead. Because Mama was nestled, all snuggled in bed. The heat was turned low and she didn’t want to go. After a week of late nights, I’d set…
“Listen to what I mean, not what I say.” My husband knows those words well as they come from his external-processor wife. My best friends know how to “take and sift my words,” as the poet wrote. To keep what is worth keeping And with the breath of kindness Blow the rest away. But I…
If you have raced with men on foot and they have worn you out, how can you compete with horses? Jeremiah 12:5a Our culture is getting so soft. No one can handle criticism. People just wilt. I can’t tell you how many times that gist has come up in conversation lately. I’m no expert on…
Note: A version of this post appeared in February 2012, the month Uncle Kevin went home. That post—I Hold Your Hand—was the first post written for JoyfullyPressingOn. Firm Hold No, Mom —no! It’s very scary. I don’t want to go. Pleeeeease—nooooo! Waterpark guests stared. Lifeguards raised their brows. I tightened my grip on the four…