You Are Here (But Not Forever)

This year has been one of pandemic, murder hornets, rioting, and (most recently) thundersnow. The truth is that for many people it has felt like a big yellow YOU ARE (stuck) HERE sticker without any map underneath to tell us where Here is. For some people, it means they've lost their bearings, for others, they're losing their minds. I just waned to remind you that You Are Here:

Photos and Feelings

A couple of weeks ago, we went round the roundabout twice as dad tried to work out how to get to the drop-off zone. Two hours parking in our hometown bought us a five minute drop off at the airport. It was a case of getting the bags out of the car, hugging him, then leaving. He didn't look back. I think I might have cried if he had.

On Wringing Out the Text

'He really wrung that text dry.' In the days and weeks that have followed, I've pondered that phrase, the concept of wringing the text dry. So often sermons say so much less that they could because of the constraints of time both in preparation and delivery. What did this man mean? How did he mean it? And is such a feat even possible?