First-person narratives based on real human experiences. The moments that change us. The relationships that define us. The lessons we carry forward.
The new pastor smiled at me across the fellowship hall and told me my name had been removed from the church rolls, and that the... Read more
The first time I caught my mother stealing, she was seventy-one years old, and she was stealing from herself. I want to tell you what... Read more
I was forty-three years old when I packed up my apartment in Charlotte and drove four hours north to move back into the house I... Read more
The hymnal in my lap that first Sunday was the same red one they hand out to every soul who walks through the doors of... Read more
The grave had been bare for eleven months when I finally admitted to myself that it might stay that way. I want to be honest... Read more
I am the one who unlocks the church on Tuesday mornings, and I am the one who first noticed the shelves were wrong. Not wrong... Read more
At eleven minutes past four on the second Saturday in October, ten years to the day since I watched my father’s truck taillights disappear down... Read more
For eleven years I set my mother’s dish down on the end of the potluck table at Grace Lutheran, on the far side by the... Read more
For thirty years I ran a diner on Route 9 and I never once kept a tab. People think that is a saying. It is... Read more
We were on the third verse of “Blessed Assurance” when the back doors of Harmony Grove Missionary Baptist Church opened and a man nobody knew... Read more