When you grow up with divorced parents, Christmas is messy. I have this distinct memory of the first Christmas I spent with my newly single dad. When we got to his small, under-furnished apartment, I think it hit all of us...
“Are you already taking Clomid?” the fertility doctor asked me, a note of astonishment in her voice as she stared at the screen in front of her. “No,” I replied. “What’s Clomid?” She didn’t answer my question...
Our 1925 bungalow kitchen opens onto what was once a small porch and is now a small, poorly-insulated mudroom — a “three-season room.” In the summer, we can tolerate the heat waves that emanate from that space, but in the winter...
I sometimes imagine my life as a journey on a physical road, marked with a large signpost that reads “God’s Way.” I think — hope — that I’m headed the right way, and a smooth path and clear skies would seem to confirm that...
I feel perpetually tired these days. Tired in my parenthood, tired of holding down the fort while my husband travels around the world for business, tired in the fledgling career I’m still trying to build. My best efforts keep getting poured out...
I had just spent the day with a colleague evaluating and planning for ministry at a college campus in Indiana — a campus that in the last year had seen many lives transformed by Christ, including the president of the campus...
In the face of tragic news reports, particularly out of Iraq, Tish Harrison Warren laments the inability to respond and confesses our deep need for prayer.
I was at the grocery store the other day perusing the cheese cases and was excited to see they were giving away samples of gourmet cheeses. The woman handing out the samples engaged me in small talk, chatting about the delicious cheeses . . .
