"I don’t know who this lady is... she waved at him and he made his way up to her. I thought their interaction would be the same as last time but I was wrong. "
"I had managed to keep my composure in the grocery store, and even when I was putting away my cart back to get my quarter back. But as I drove home, the tears came. I began the ugly cry."
How could I possibly know our biggest struggle? Because I’ve heard the same universal thread whispered by pastors’ wives, and prodigal daughters, and everyone in between.
