An Open Letter to Three Soldiers
To the three servicemen who died in a midair collision on Wednesday in Washington DC. I’m sorry.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
To the three servicemen who died in a midair collision on Wednesday in Washington DC. I’m sorry.
She’s 19. Beautiful. Violent red hair. And smart. Morgan is one of those rare humans who honestly thinks math was not invented by Satan. The girl climbs into my truck, buckles herself in. “Hey,” she says. Fresh-faced and happy. Slightly out of breath. The flushed cheeks of youth. I like that she feels so at …
Sean Dietrich answers reader questions as only he can, with wit, wisdom and whimsey.
Trusting God doesn’t mean that life will be smooth sailing. But we can trust God to be with us even in our worst days and to shelter us with His loving arms.
You’re going through something right now. Something bad. Something truly, inexplicably, wholly, and everlastingly crappy.
I don’t know what it is. But it’s ugly. And it’s getting the best of you.
The Helen Keller Art show was in full swing. The center is adorned in art. Tactile pieces. Colorful artwork. Sculptures.
Is a second Trump presidency the answer? I have no idea. But I believe in an omniscient, miracle-working God, the same God who raised a flawed Samson to further His plan.
As the 19-year-old young woman returns to college classes this week; as teenagers herd across campus like droves of cattle; as students all over the nation engage in the long-cherished tradition of not reading the syllabus; I just want to say how proud I am to know Morgan Love.
Gray weather feels a lot like taking a field trip to Hell. I don’t like overcast days. Whenever the sky gets like this, I sit by a windowsill and entertain the idea of composing Russian poetry.
Dear Lynn,
It’s weird. Weird knowing that you won’t be reading this today. You always read my stuff. It’s how we met. Which only raises questions about your taste in literature.
She works hard. Too hard. And when she’s not cooking in the kitchen of the medical rehab, delivering trays to patients, she’s a full-time single mother.
It’s still January, and even though we’re “resting in the Lord” (Psalm 37:7), we may still need inspiration to make it until Spring.
It was an average weeknight in Birmingham when I stood atop the Vulcan statue. Snow on the ground. I was looking at the city below, standing beneath Vulcan’s massive butt cheeks.
Birmingham. I met the old woman for coffee. She was small and slight, with a mane of white. She spoke with a thick Latin accent.
“I have a story for you,” she said.
It’s the New Year and, judging by people’s resolutions, they think they’re supposed to be doing all sorts of impressive things like losing weight, saving more money, training for marathons, etc.
January–the worst month of the year. Christmas is still 11 months away, and the skies are cloudy all day.
Someone emailed me and said I was an idiot. Which is true, but not for the reasons they cited.
It’s weird. Standing on this stage. In this arena. I’m looking at a thousand faces. Many of them are about to be college graduates. And they’re all looking back at me so hopefully, so full of wonder, so wide-eyed and eager, as if to say, “I hope this idiot’s speech isn’t too long.”
I brought in the new year with a blind dog. She was seated beside me, wagging her butt. I think she could feel the energy in the air.
Do you make New Year’s Resolutions? Do you keep them? If you do, you’re in the minority. But God keeps all of His resolutions. You can count on it!