1Oct 13, 2017
“Mrs. Henegar? Mrs. Henegar!” She calls to me from a stroll away, two picnic tables over, where she balances a fat bag of trail mix on her palm. I turn to look and with one finger, she pushes her glasses up on her nose, then digs ’round in the sack again. Her fingers disappear beneath […]
2Jun 24, 2016
I love the light when it’s fresh at the start of the day. It’s like a clean window we’ve not yet touched with our fingers; like the diaphanous edges of some sacred space. Sitting on the porch in the morning feels like resting in the palm of God’s hand as He slowly opens his fingers. This […]