Christmas is for the broken

Every year I need to remind myself in the season of waiting that Advent is not truly the forced-happy and frantic countdown to Christmas that I can sometimes make it. Advent is anticipation and longing, the days of earth’s groaning and our own unmet yearnings....

In memory of Grandma Fanny

We drove across three states, as we always do, to visit the log house she built with her husband named for sunshine. And the ache was palpable, undulating with the rolling hills of Wyoming, as we faded in and out of sleep. One could almost imagine the ruts family...

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