It was a bad hair day that lasted about 20 years . . .
"The knot cinches up tight in my stomach—so tight I can barely breathe." That’s the thing about knots: The harder you pull, the stronger they get. Me? I’ve spent a lifetime pulling.
Jesus . . . was homeless.
My recent run-in . . . left me grounded, under a pile of feathers and melted wax.
Leslie Verner cracks the door open to the connection we crave - at a time we need it the most.
This hamster wheel has left me soul-tired and gasping for breath. Just recently, though, I’ve crashed into something that’s stopped the spinning . . .
When I peek into my own heart, I see him sitting there too: My very own metaphorical money frog, snugly tucked away, under blankets of saintly denial.
Living in this space makes me ponder purpose anew. There will always, always be the next level, street crossing or conquest ahead. And for a few moments, I’ll feel I’ve arrived - as if I have purpose in my cross-hairs. But I’m starting to realize that in this game, purpose is ever-elusive.
The views from here are breathtaking, but also a bit terrifying . . .
"I long for a mobility of obedience that moves forward, even in darkness."