And every time I make my way back—no matter how far I’ve gone—I don’t find distance. I find strength. I find grace. I find that I’m still being built, still being shaped, still being added to.
Coming Home: A Father Learning to Return
Grandma’s Hands
Grandma’s hands were loved more than she could ever understand.
The Wait
I'm often infatuated with God’s hand, not His heart. I’ve read the scriptures and parables. I know the miracles He’s performed. But I skim over the time it takes for the miracles to happen.
BABL 