"I looked back to the bed. Still empty. And then it happened. I fell to my knees, and then to my back. It came from up from my gut. I could almost physically feel it moving to the top of my abdomen, to my chest, into my neck and then my head. I cannot describe the pain."
"You are so unbelievably excited that your child is born…and in the next moment you believe you’ll have to say farewell to your wife forever. It was like being numbed."
"The church is far from perfect. Life is complex. There are growing options. And the post-modern mind distrusts most things organized or institutional. But as trendy as the idea of writing off the church may be, it’s a mistake."
I want there to be a word for the vulnerability you feel as you lay there just lying to yourself about what's to come. A word for the way your heart goes from fluttery to thudding in your ears. A word for that one last moment of hopefulness before the world comes crashing down. Why isn't there a word?
"The lockdown ... it feeds into pornography, loneliness, depression and mental health," McDowell recently told "The Pure Flix Podcast," noting that stress, isolation and fear of the unknown are all issues that are increasingly intensifying amid the COVID19 crisis.
I stared at her and she held out her arms for me. Me. The scary monster. She wanted me. The same person who frightened her, she was seeking comfort from.
Today I wore my mask for you. And for your child with asthma. And for your daughter who is pregnant. And for your mom who just got done fighting cancer.
