I’ve noticed that I tend to look away whenever I’m donating blood.
Even the finger-prick at the start, to check my hemoglobin: The process may be relatively painless, but it’s just something I’d prefer not to see.
I’ve noticed that I tend to look away whenever I’m donating blood.
Even the finger-prick at the start, to check my hemoglobin: The process may be relatively painless, but it’s just something I’d prefer not to see.
Lately, there’ve been times when I’ve felt the past three months have seemed like years.
Three years…or thirty.
A nap sure sounded like a good idea to me, as I headed home from our Men’s ACTS Retreat yesterday afternoon. But the Holy Spirit had a different, Hannah-sized blessing in store.
Miracle of miracles: I sank a 100-foot putt the other day.
Working meat off the bones of a rotisserie chicken became something of a sacramental experience for me the other day.
It’s a strange feeling, the first time you call your son “Father.”
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