Last fall Kellie and I had close friends come visit us up here in the North Carolina mountains, friends we’ve known for 30 years. In the course of conversation I interjected the oft-used expression “It’s all good,” which my friend immediately and good-naturedly took me to task on.
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The earliest memory I have of an actual prayer when I was a kid was a recurring petition: God, just let me hear your voice. Named or unnamed, I think this is the quiet cry of many a heart.
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About a week ago I picked up a 24-hour stomach bug. I felt like I was dying. I had just finished watching a TV show where the main character’s best friend died…and her dog…in the same episode. Yikes.
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It was Christmas Eve. I had walked the chilly neighborhood with my 6-month-old grandson Briar strapped onto my chest in a nylon carrier. It was nap time, and his eyelids fluttered lower and lower...
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