
When You Spoiled the Easter Egg Hunt
I’ll never forget the look on her face. I was five, and we were on a school field trip, an Easter party at a park.

I’ll never forget the look on her face. I was five, and we were on a school field trip, an Easter party at a park.

For my kids, Easter baskets always came a week early—on Palm Sunday. My mother-in-law sewed adorable outfits, matched them with sweet fancy hats, and brought

Ugghh! The draft. Not the football one. Or the one that sends young men to war. But the written one that sits for days, weeks,

Cisco Cotto said it one morning on Moody Radio Chicago: “What if we showed as much patience at home as we do fishing?” I’ll admit,

I met him once. Rev. Billy Graham. It was a Monday night. A friend and I were on our way to Art Survey 101, and

I wanted to be her Valentine. A wonderful group of college peers had pulled together enough cash to let me fly home to see her.

Okay, if you’ve been following my saga, you know today isn’t really “Day 1.” That was actually 18 months ago. Before my sprained ankle, before

I don’t know that I’d ever heard the song before that particular morning. Leastwise, I hadn’t REALLY heard it, where it penetrated not only my

Can’t believe I did it—again. For a person who loves to see words flow across the page, I sure get tripped up by the ones
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