When You Need to Hear a Story
There were so many things I looked forward to before having children, but one that couldn’t come fast enough was getting to enact the nightly ritual of story time again. (Seriously, not fast enough. I think we started reading books to our firstborn when he was ... One of the interesting things about becoming an adult is that I find myself asking fewer questions about the meaning of life. When I was a child, I lobbed a constant barrage of “whys” at my parents from the backseat, the dinner table, or our nightly check-ins before ... I love to lead and teach. It’s a part of my natural gifting, the way I’m wired. These traits have been evident from an early age. My mom recalls with fondness the authority with which I lined up my stuffed animals in my bedroom after school, demanding their attention ... On my first day of student teaching I met Jerome. I was training to work as a special education teacher and was assigned to a summer school class of fourth and fifth graders with autism and other cognitive impairments. It was a lively place. Jerome moved like a bouncing ball, limbering ... Recently I read Ann Voskamp’s beautiful, heart wrenching post about the situation in Iraq. In it she outlines the impossible choices children face there – girls sold into sexual slavery, forced to have their virginity surgically remade only to be taken again and again. Children denied an education. ... I am insecure. Way more than I’d like to admit. Way more. When we get home from parties, I replay social interactions in my head because I’m afraid I might have said something strange or wrong or unintentionally hurtful. Often I find myself hesitating to initiate ... I was single for most of my twenties. I was hopeful about finding Mr. Right but it seemed like a long shot because I was a campus pastor. Most of the men in my life were college undergraduates or married colleagues in ministry, neither of which were appropriate pools for mate selection. After ... I got rejected this week. It was an article, a story I was a really proud of, submitted to a prestigious magazine where a couple of my friends have been published recently. I’d polished the prose, even had someone look it over before I sent it in, only to receive a not-unfamiliar response. “Thank ...
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