El Camino de Average Joe
People from all over the world are traveling to this sacred place. Farmers and peasants. Lords and ladies. Rich and poor.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
People from all over the world are traveling to this sacred place. Farmers and peasants. Lords and ladies. Rich and poor.
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.
Today is a big deal.
If you don’t read any further, just keep repeating the above sentence in a loud, clear voice until it sinks in and your spouse begins to wonder whether you’re clinically insane.
Five years ago I was in Huntsville when the world shut down. Five years. Almost to the day. I’ll never forget it.
The young woman sits in my truck passenger seat. She is 19. Her hair is red. Scottish red. Luminously red. People always comment on her hair first.
I have here a letter from 19-year-old Erin, who lives in Bristol, Virginia.
“Dear Sean,” she begins, “I want to be happy, but I’m not…
“My family is stressing me out, big-time. Especially my mom.
One of the most beautiful short stories ever written, The Book of Ruth may be brief, but it has a powerful message.
My sister and I sit cross-legged on the front porch, playing cards. I am losing. Not that this matters.
We are really into the game right now, slapping cards on the porch floor.
Once upon a time there were three little ants. The ants had an unusual home. They lived atop an elephant. Long ago the ants’ mother had reasoned that an elephant would be a wise place to lay eggs to keep them from danger.
It was a big storm. The television showed weather updates. The radar looked like red-and-yellow vomit.
“Find shelter!” the weather guy kept saying. “There’s a tornado on the ground in Calera!”
Have you ever wondered what Jesus was thinking as he headed to Jerusalem for what would be His final Passover? He knew where he was going, he knew why he was going, and he knew what would happen. And because of you and me, He did it anyway.
Anna and her four young daughters were on a trip to England on the SS Ville du Havre. It was a French steamship. All iron. Built like a tank. Except, of course, tanks weren’t around yet. This was 1873.
The kid was filling a shopping buggy. He was reaching for a bag of tortilla chips on the top shelf. I saw one of the older ladies in our aisle reach upward and remove a bag of Tostitos for him.
“Dear Sean,” the letter began, “there’s a dog in my neighborhood who was lost and followed me home.
In a few weeks my wife and I will be walking 500 miles unless we die before we finish. We will be walking the Camino de Santiago, a medieval religious pathway across Spain. We will be on foot. With backpacks. And we shall not be called “hikers,” but in the ancient Spanish tongue: “Locos Americanos con mochilas.”
Husbands and sons. Carpenters and clergymen. Some rich, some poor. Some carrying the nicest firelocks money could buy. Some wielding nothing more than a pitchfork. I was playing my fife for them.
Paul William Bryant was born in the late summer of 1913 in a Cleveland County, Arkansas, backwater. His hometown of Moro Bottom wasn’t even a town, technically. Only seven families lived there.
Columbus, Georgia. I was eating at a barbecue joint not far from the state line. My cousin, John, insisted that this joint serves the best barbecue in the state of Georgia. He made me promise to try it.
When you decide to take a road trip, how do you prepare? Are you a list-maker or a risk taker? Just over 2000 years ago, Jesus was preparing for the greatest road trip of all time.
I saw a shooting star. A big one. I was exiting Walmart. Pushing my buggy. It was dusk. The sky was pink. I looked into a cloudless sky and there it was.