Seventy-Two Years
You died by suicide 30 years ago. You hated yourself. You hated this life. You hated where the world was heading. So you left. You’d probably hate it even more today. For one thing, they sell water in bottles now.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
You died by suicide 30 years ago. You hated yourself. You hated this life. You hated where the world was heading. So you left. You’d probably hate it even more today. For one thing, they sell water in bottles now.
She was a cleaning woman. Two kids. One cat. She was going under, fast. She could not afford this month’s rent. The landlord was already preparing to kick her out. She was working from can to can’t…
My mother always told me to smile. Especially when I didn’t want to. She often told me to smile when I was sad, when trying on school clothes, or whenever I was forced to eat beef liver at gunpoint.
I had a dream. I was walking on the beach with God. We were the only two on the shore. God was very tall.
The first thing that struck me was that God was nothing like I thought he’d be.
The school cafeteria. The boys were all sitting together, doing what teenage boys do. Horsing around, talking about girls, probably trying to make milk spew from each other’s nostrils.
I have a story about bad things. The story is about an old man. He lived during in the Great Depression. He was a very poor farmer. His home was a ramshackle shotgun house. He drove a rusted truck that predated the Punic Wars.
Two railway track maintainers stood at a distance watching her. Their neon vests, reflecting in the early morning light. Their hard hats pushed upward on their heads. They weren’t sure what to do with the bird.
“Dear Sean, your column yesterday about embracing my inner child and childhood was inaccurate. I’m 67 with more life experience than you… And my childhood wasn’t idyllic like yours obviously was…
I want to tell you a story. In February of 1979, a 7-year-old named Chris Grecius, of Scottsdale, Arizona, found out he had leukemia. It was the end of the world. No, it was worse than that. It felt like the end of a family.
The letter was short. “Dear Sean, do you believe prayer works? I don’t. Please pray I survive my surgery today.” Signed, Anonymous.
Jesus’ teachings provide a powerful confirmation of the concept that being made in the **image of God** is not merely about traits like intelligence or morality, but about **function** and **purpose**.
There are a lot of things you can be. In fact, you can be anything you want in this life. You can just be yourself. You can be free. Be empowered. Be comfortable with who you are. Be invested in your own life.
Bringing Some Of The Details To The Discussion: What About These Big Numbers?
What Do These Impossibly Large Numbers Mean? How big are they?
In the heart of war-torn Iraq, amidst the chaos of conflict and the austere surroundings of Camp Victory, a remarkable initiative unfolded—one that brought solace, camaraderie, and a touch of home to deployed service members. This is the story of the Baghdad School of Fly Fishing, a testament to the healing power of nature and the resilience of the human spirit.
How Does A Physicist Sneak Up On His Peers With That Which Undermines Him???
The first big difference I noticed in America was that we move very fast. Everything we do is fast. We want our food fast. We want our news fast. We drive fast. We pump gas fast. We stand before a microwave and shout, “HURRY UP!!!!”
I am in the lobby of my hotel, waking up. The coffee is lukewarm. The breakfast is freezer burnt. And the overhead music playing is “Highway to Hell.” You can’t get away from canned music. It’s everywhere.
Some of the most powerful lessons we pilgrims have learned on this proverbial Chisholm Trail have not been about life, or the nature of the universe. Our lessons have been in relation to each other.
It was a little church. Off the main path. And you don’t see many “little” churches on the Camino. Most churches here are Gothic monuments. Stone gargantuans, with bells, towering medieval doors, and golden altars. This wasn’t one of those.