Bloom and Grow
I think when we look down on children it’s because we have momentarily, or perhaps chronically, forgotten that little kid inside earnestly whispering, “Don’t forget me. I’m still here.”
I Hope We Can Still Be Friends
The main reason for the break up was something she called “bad timing.”
Portrait of a Recovering Alcoholic
482 days.
Confessions of a Calorie Counter
You learn to love the foods that have nothing. Coffee. Mustard. Certain brands of hot sauce.
I Am Liking Myself
“It doesn’t matter what you do,” I will tell my children, “as long as you like yourself better than you like most other people.”
Lows
With a new pastor in the pulpit after a long stretch of interim pastors, I’ve been hopeful. But in the past few months, we’ve hit a new series of lows.
Burn After Reading
Jesse will be your second Tinder date, and your last.
A Prayer for the Twenty-Somethings
be with every late night job-searcher, every too-old-for-internships-er, all of us just looking for a step in the door. Be with the waiters who aren’t scientists yet, the sales clerks who aren’t published yet.
The “Local” in “Local News” Still Matters
All this to say: the place you live is not merely the setting to the story of your life.
I Speak with an Accent
What if we heard all accents this way—not as a sign that English is not one’s first language, but as a sign that another language is?
