Is your craving lying to you?

I’m more likely to crave those tortilla chips than chocolate. You know, the blue ones that aren’t overly salted and a tad thinner than the ‘other’ ones? Yes, I’ll choose those any day over chocolate. Even Dove (seriously, Hershey doesn’t compare!) I remember hearing about the odd cravings pregnant women would have but I never had any nor did my friends. Sure, we enjoyed in more indulgences and blamed that...

Jesus Isn’t Just for Church People

It’s a bit complicated to describe our congregation. Some would say they’re a captive audience. While that description makes me flinch, it’s not all wrong. The residents in this six-month rehabilitation program are required to attend our Sunday service. A spiritual component is part of their recovery along with individual and group counseling, recreation, and work. We have a congregation of all men. Most of them are addicts. Their church...

On this beautiful summer day, I will not lose hope

I suppose summer isn’t the time to talk of the hollowness of grief. These are the days of long sunshine inviting us to play a little longer. These are the times of family reunions and seeing new places. These are not the days to be met with grief. But grief doesn’t wait for an invitation. Alia Joy’s words met me early this morning. They stirred the grief I thought had been...

Ordinary Heroes {we're surrounded}

This week my series on people has been about people who are ordinary heroes. People who are living their ordinary lives in extraordinary ways. Bearing grief on a daily basis. Battling the disease of addiction and winning one day at a time. Keeping a marriage together. Choosing change over comfort. It’s easy to be disgusted at people today. Listen to the news, click on Facebook, read the newspaper and we...

Ordinary Heroes

If your town is like ours, you’ve seen them. They’re often standing on the edge of busy intersections holding cardboard signs. Or lingering in front of convenience stores asking for spare change. They are usually wearing filthy clothes. Sometimes they are sleeping on a bus bench. They don’t look like the heroes they can become. I wish I could show you the comparison photo’s. The face shots taken the first...

We can't keep count

His parents gave consent to turn off the machines. Test were conclusive: no brain activity. Their 25-year-old son another victim of heroin. A bad batch someone said until another told him there were no good batches. Truth is I can’t even place his face. He wasn’t with us long but long enough to give his parents memories of a clean son to hold. Maybe this will get them through those hard...

Five-Minute Friday {change}

Linking up with Kate for Five-Minute Friday. She provides the word prompt and the blogging party begins. Today’s word is change. GO I can hear the chorus in my head, the song called Can’t Change Me: She’s going to change the world, she’s going to change the world, she’s going to change the world, But she can’t change me, no she can’t change me. I think about the men who enter...

He was a drunkard. He was my friend.

We were living in Memphis when mama came to visit.  She’d left a busy summer schedule to come for our daughters wedding. My sister was keeping her up on things at home but one phone call left mama suddenly quiet and dabbing at her eyes. I paused, waiting for her explanation when she said, “Burt* died. He was a drunkard. He was my friend.” Ten years later and the news...