An Ingalls Easter
I feel like Caroline Ingalls, attempting to preserve civilization on the frontier wilds, with her tiny gilt-toed shepherdess on the mantel.
I feel like Caroline Ingalls, attempting to preserve civilization on the frontier wilds, with her tiny gilt-toed shepherdess on the mantel.
I have never seen a man’s back worn to shreds by a cruel whip, but I have seen crisscrossed lines of despair in the wrists of a friend.
What I saw: Good Friday reflections Read More »