This ain’t our first rodeo. The ride will end. We will overcome and there will be celebration. Count on it.
At my house we call it Schrodinger’s plague; we have no idea what’s going to be there when we look in the box.
The God narrative leads you by whisper and hand up a narrow path to stand on a ledge in the face of storms and earthquakes and mobs.
The Whisper is a little bit crazy.
I wonder sometimes if all the talking and moralizing makes us feel like we have accomplished something so we can ignore the Voice in the night.
Relationships matter. Friends matter. So where do I draw my lines?
I keep hearing this term thrown around lately. It’s something that people on ‘my side’ of any specific argument say about people on ‘the other side’ who obviously are close-minded, mouth-breathing, idiot elitists or rednecks or pagans or…whatever your villain of the day flavor is right now.
….grief is a shadow cast by the great light of love.