Most Novembers I Break Down and Cry

“I can’t remember if we said goodbye.” That line from Emmylou Harris’s cover of “Goodbye” always gets me, and did again this morning, coffee in hand before the sun cleared the piney woods. It’s a simple lyric, almost plain-spoken, but it carries an unexpected weight. The kind that comes not from tragedy, but from uncertaintyContinueContinue reading “Most Novembers I Break Down and Cry”

In Memoriam: Edith Mary Tolkien (1889–1971)

On November 29, 1971, Edith Mary Tolkien slipped quietly from this world when she was eighty-two, leaving behind a life woven into the fabric of her family and the imagination of Middle-earth. To the world, she may have seemed the quiet wife of J.R.R. Tolkien, but her life was more complex than any simple label.ContinueContinue reading “In Memoriam: Edith Mary Tolkien (1889–1971)”

FROM THE WEB: Lives Transformed Behind Prison Walls: Ligonier Inside – YouTube

“He brought me here, so that my light might shine.” One man says it in his own words best, in the seven-minute-investment of your time.

November 9: Reflections on Orphans, Widows, and Tolkien

My editorial calendar is getting busy. November 9 reminds me that care and legacy come in many forms. They show up in quiet acts of compassion. They show up in stories passed down and letters and tales that shape hearts across generations. There is a quiet weight to loss that does not always get noticed.ContinueContinue reading “November 9: Reflections on Orphans, Widows, and Tolkien”

The Moment of Surrender: A Meditation

Sometimes at church, words, music, and the quiet stirrings of the heart converge at a single intersection. This particular Sunday, as the teaching on obedience and guidance unfolded, I felt it, the invisible thread pulling through the message, drawing me into a space both ordinary and sacred. The Crossroads of Reflection Let me be clearContinueContinue reading “The Moment of Surrender: A Meditation”