Sometimes Monday rolls around and I wonder if hope isn’t a cruel concept. I also wonder if from time to time I haven’t drifted into the lake of the pessimist for that very reason. You get your hopes up — wait in anticipation — dream a little — dream a lot — and then….. Sometimes it’s immense heartbreak. Sometimes it’s just disappointment. Sometimes it’s losing faith in humanity....

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I just snuck into Cooper’s room. The quilt had fallen off his bed and he was sound asleep under the sheet. It was a little chilly in there so I picked up the quilt and tucked him back in. He didn’t move. He’s always been a very heavy sleeper. I tucked his Mickey in beside him because, hey, Mickey is a big part of our family. I paused to look at how beautiful he is and I thanked God for him. He’s healthy. He’s...

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I wish I could just sleep through it. I think that’s what a number of depressed people say or the parent of a small child. I’m sure they say it too. In fact, I know they do. I can remember saying it and tonight I thought it. I said it a bit in seminary. I lived alone in Atlanta and was burdened with stress and a bit of personal turmoil that I brought to Atlanta with me. My self-worth-ometer was never too encouraging. If I woke up in...

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Ok…..Love ramblings. I guess it only makes sense. It’s 7:30 on Feb. 14th, 2016. Valentines Day. Bleh. Barf. Yay. Right? Even in my seriously-dating life or married life, I didn’t like this day. What’s beautiful to some is painful to others and a brilliant excuse to drink too much, eat too much chocolate, and blow money on over-priced, under-stuffed, cheesy Teddy bears, rush the movie theaters for drenched-in-fake-butter...

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…..as in gender. I know, that was delightfully misleading but it got your attention and I want your attention for about five minutes or however long it takes you to read this rant. And, there’s your warning. It’s likely to be a little bit of a rant because even though I’ve slept on it and even though I’ve polled my vast pool of different-thinking friends and colleagues to make sure that I’m not blowing...

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Sometimes I forget. I admit it. It’s hard to admit but it’s true. But I admit it — I have been through the ringer. I have been through the ringer but people go through ringers all the time. I don’t want pity or sympathy — support and love and the occasional “way to go” will work. I’d forgotten. I’d forgotten in the attempt to pretend like I’m not always stuck in the proverbial ringer...

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