It’s 7:14am. I’ve just poured my coffee, spilled it all over our unfortunately-white countertops. My sleepy hands carry the mug to the breakfast nook in our kitchen. The orangy summer sun is beaming on the east side of the trees. The birds are chirping....
“I’ve heard several editors say they make a practice of chopping off the concluding two to three paragraphs in Christian writing, not because the writing isn’t good, but because this is when Christians consistently shift into autopilot optimism. They present the...
“It’s not brave to have answers. It’s brave to watch them get erased, obliterated, rubbed out with a half-chewed cheap eraser on the end of a #2 pencil, the kind that leaves black nasty smudges in the wake of that math formula that should have contained, as...
I’m frozen in time. Actually, frozen on my couch somewhere between working on a series of paintings and climbing on my elliptical. I was thinking about inertia—that stuff smart people say when they’re explaining that an object in motion stays in motion,...
“As you make art or write, the process is a container for awareness. Everything that rises up—judgments, blocks, insights—is a reflection of the whole of your life.” Christine Valters Paintner in The Artist’s Rule I sat in the corner of my kitchen...
