Little Rock, Arkansas is not a friendly city at night, so you must wrap yourself around your craft cocktail at the hotel bar and not move around too much.
My tiny and withered arms pulled together great slabs of lumber and leveled compost. Seedlings are pushing toward light, waiting in starter containers for their true planting.
I found God’s Word lying in green grass, covered in dew, and brought it home. The stranger’s handwriting looked out of place in my kitchen full of familiar.
I dropped to thirty hours of my office job a week and replaced those two hours a day with morning homeschooling. I haven’t felt this connected to my kids in a long, long time. More on that to come.