Hands

Before I knew it, the same mischievous boys who had covered me head to toe in paint were surrounding me, working the hair ties out of my hair, and separating the strands that had begun to stick together in clumps . . . .

Half-packed Suitcase

"Is it okay to bring this many shoes?" Heavy snow outside has piled up against my parents' house, and darkness has long since fallen.  Upstairs, a suitcase sits half-packed on the floor of my childhood bedroom.  I'm staring at the suitcase, wondering what else I can safely pack away.  My time in Michigan isn't quite …

Unmasked.

I walked on the cracked soil (our home is the desert!) and rocky patches of the soccer field at the children's home, praying for the little faces that had just been smiling up into mine as they waved me over to play with them.  Praying because they seemed to be perfectly happy and normal children …

All In.

Do we trust His heart toward us enough to allow Him -- even to ASK Him -- to write a new story, to call us out deeper than our feet (or our resources, or our human logic) could ever wander? Being "all in" means getting "all out" of the boat.