I can’t help feeling like some of you have Things to say, but you are not sure you want to say them. Some of you have never commented before.
I open wide and soak it in, the full moon just coming white and misty from behind the clouds, or hanging its enormous full-blazed orange…
I am snapping lots of photos of this glorious world. I can tell you about my current life with them easily. Watch this.
“We all come to foster care with mixed emotions, histories, and motives. Please don’t forget that this story is not primarily about you.”
Today is my birthday! I’m turning thirty-eight, which is such an uncomfy number. And I’d love to hear from you.
I would like to hear from you. What formed your ideas of heaven? How did you learn what you know?
I feel responsible for the discussion that happens here. I am the moderator, and this is my space. However, I am caught in something of a dilemma.
“If they never stain, and your cans don’t have sharp edges, how do they wear out?” Naïve smile, unfeigned readiness to accept all the wonders of the world.
I’ve been wanting to hear from you on a couple of items for some time. Would you be willing to answer ten questions for me?
We remember other’s words from years ago, words spoken at critical moments, words that shaped us and our view of ourselves and our course in life.