The Helen Keller Art Show
The Helen Keller Art show was in full swing. The center is adorned in art. Tactile pieces. Colorful artwork. Sculptures.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
The Helen Keller Art show was in full swing. The center is adorned in art. Tactile pieces. Colorful artwork. Sculptures.
As the holidays approach, this devotional invites us to slow down and be grateful for the traditions and stories, joyful and painful, that make us who we are.
Federal criminal courtrooms are public. Rule 53 bans cameras in them. I graded all six points on your card like a lab report. Two pass. Four can get your followers arrested.
Before anybody in the replies calls me anti-protest… I’m a medically retired Army medic. I swore an oath to defend your right to stand on a sidewalk and call the President anything you want. I also think a member of Congress handing out legal advice ought to hand out ALL of it. Slight oversight!
Many believe G-d is present every day and He personally looks over them and guides them on a regular basis; that there is an omnipresence of a spirit, a power that creates anything and everything. In other words, there is a G-d. However, He might be too busy to interact with billions of humans on this planet as well as others in other places.
Today is a glorious day. It is a joyful day for us. And yet, I have been staring at my computer screen for hour after hour, thinking about what I want to write, or if I want to write.
When suffering piles up in our homes and in the world, it’s okay to ask God “why,” and Scripture reminds us that He is still in control and that the story ends well.
O’Hare International Airport is busy. And by “busy,” I mean “an organized soccer riot.” There are people everywhere. Elbowing. Shoving. Shouldering their way through the crowds. Charging their way up escalators. Jogging past terminals. People of all shapes. All kinds. All haircuts.
One of the definitions Webster uses to define Faith: “firm belief in something for which there is no proof” and also as “complete trust”.
Six years ago. The Waffle House was packed. There were customers everywhere. Shoulder to shoulder. Sardine-like. I don’t know how the waitress managed to find a place for us at the counter.
As a boy, I’d awake to find my mother already in the living room, snuggled beneath a lamp, where she’d been reading for hours. The cat in her lap would just stare at me with moral disapproval.
My dog, Marigold, and I have been walking a lot lately. It’s not easy, walking. We have very few “good walks” inasmuch as walking in a straight line is impossible when you can’t see.
It’s overcast. I’m with my wife and my dog. We are on the wide porch of a vacation rental house. This is the main road which cuts through this small town. There are sounds of kids laughing, playing. Easy traffic.
When I was a Plebe (freshman), I was getting onto a Greyhound bus. Before I got to the top of the steps, someone identified me as in the military. “Thank you for you service.”
I receive a lot of remarks in the form of emails, private messages, obscene hand gestures, etc. There’s no way I could answer all comments individually. So occasionally, I compile commonly asked questions and answer them in this column.
The ten commands in James 4 are one unified call to repentance, and the heart of it is verse 8, where God promises to meet us the moment we reconnect with Him.
“Dear Sean,” the letter began, “there’s a dog in my neighborhood who was lost and followed me home.
You know the type. Every decision requires approval. Every assignment comes with detailed instructions. Every minor problem becomes an opportunity for the boss to demonstrate how things should be done.
I have a thing for Norman Rockwell. When I was a kid, I collected Rockwell memorabilia in the form of calendars, picture books, and posters.
The Pleasant Hill Baptist church sits out in the country. The fellowship hall is a sardine can.
It is an old room with drooping ceiling fans, paned windows, and carpet stains that predate the Vietnam War.
Dear Aaron,
You are my best good friend. In many ways, you are the brother I never had. I’m not sure that’s a title you want to bear. I’m sort of a degenerate.
But I love you, brother. So help me, I do.