This Favored Wound

I was weeding with a double-edged machete, and hadn’t noticed I disturbed a hornet’s nest. Forgetting I gripped a weapon, I swatted at my stung hand, and sliced open my forearm, a gaping wound. It has taken a long time to heal. I like to think of wounds as a mark of God’s ownership. Spiritual…

When God Breaks In…

He was a doctor of internal medicine, and his words were a jaded iceberg, admittedly desensitized by the dying he sees every day. “There are no miracles for someone in stage four cancer… at least I’ve never seen one,” he said. “My mom passed away about eight years ago. She was only 55, and at…