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In the tops of the leafless bushes that stood shoulder height along the path, a sea of spider webs swayed in the soft wind—hundreds and hundreds of webs, perfectly spun and glistening with dew in the morning light.

Good Morning, It’s Christmas

This year I’ll sleep in a guest room, maybe on an air mattress. It will be a normal night of sleep. I won’t be waiting for the rumble of the Polar Express, watching for its headlight to flood the walls of my room in a gold glow.

The End of Solitude

Strange how things happen. You can put all your effort into living well only to find that you were living just fine the whole time.

On Emma Watson and Self Love

Sometimes I Google search Emma Watson, just to, you know, stay in touch. She’s this contemplative introvert who values privacy, thrust into a world of celebrity.


For the first time in my life, I walk out of a church service, driving in silence back to my parent’s apartment. The next day, when I get home from work, I collapse wordlessly in my mom’s arms and sob into her shoulder.

God the Hero, God the Villain

I can’t stand Chuck,” he told me, “I don’t even like being in the same room as him. I’ve tried being nice, but I find everything about him…repugnant. It’s been a struggle for me. I try to love everyone. He makes it hard to love him.”

Love Like Grief

I think in each of us there’s a deep well with love like water at the bottom, but if only the crawl down wasn’t so dark and our hands could carry more.

Ketchup and Blood Part Three

Of course, when you’re actually Ryan “Hey Girl” Gosling, and you’ve got Nicholas “I’ve Never Written Two Different Stories” Sparks writing your script, you have that luxury.

Ketchup and Blood Part Two

When the professor starts class, I finally take a breath again. I’m free. No pressure. All I’ve got to do is sit here and not fart.


Those old haunts the heart still goes to—even daily comforts brought me to them. That all might not seem like much. It isn’t much. But my heart is still a broken thing. My odd heart.

The End of Things

Things are always ending and beginning, simultaneously and separately. It’s not that an end leads to a beginning—an end is a beginning. They are the same.

Wisconsin’s Own Phox

I’m 24. I’m old now. I have a bedtime. I pay for health insurance. I drink hot tea to prevent kidney stones. But these tickets were free, and I liked the group, so why not?

Ketchup and Blood

My future girlfriend laughed. After that, I probably didn’t say anything for the rest of the time at the table. I had peaked with that joke, already canonized in my head, replaying it over and over in my mind.


Being unique is easy. So easy, you don’t even have to think about it, if you so chose. Not that that stops any one of us from taking a few moments a day to prove it.

Joy in the Midst

“You only live once.” Strange how a phrase used to fight death has no place in death’s presence. It has no place because living once is a tragedy.

Relient K’s Collapsible Lung

Pop is like soda-pop. It’s sugary sweet, easy to consume, addictive, nutrition-empty, and makes you feel sick to the stomach if you’ve had too much.


I’m not sure if it’s the grey skies, the bitter cold, or the profound solitude of post-college life, but She has taken residence in my thoughts once more.

Fear of Orthodoxy

I wrote a piece earlier called “Mere Atheism,” and if you read between the lines of the opening paragraphs, you will find lurking within them an ugly fear—the mystery of why I am faithful was pinpointed on my family rather than the Holy Spirit; the mystical nature of...

A Most Gracious Reprieve

“How’s school?” Grandma Shirley asks me this every single time I see her, even though I graduated many months ago. She was at the graduation.

I Am Mountain

*I Am Mountain* remains Gungor’s crowning jewel and shows a brighter future for them than I ever imagined. Like all great artists, they aren’t afraid to change.

Mere Atheism

We must all humble ourselves when engaging with others in conversations surrounding belief of any sort, because in the grand scheme of things, we know nothing.

Let’s Get Physical (Books)

The truth of the matter is that homes are much less beautiful without bookshelves packed full of books. They decorate the nooks and crannies of homes with artful spines and interesting thoughts.

Talking to the Fairies

It’s a rather pithy thing to say these days — “living intentionally” — devoid of overt meaning and explanation. But I try to remind myself of this anyways, truly trying to grasp what it would mean to live intentionally in this very moment.