It is so much easier for me to "see" if I tell a story. This blog is one of the places that happens.

There’s a closet in an old abandoned house on my grandpa’s ranch.  It’s not a wardrobe leading to Narnia.  There’s no treasure hidden beneath the planks of its scratched and dusty, wood floor, but I love to open it and see what’s inside.  The house itself sits beneath...

There’s a picture on my nightstand of my daughter Hope running.  She’s maybe 3 years old, running full speed, with her golden locks flying in her jet stream.  The sun is shining, and the grass she’s running on with bare feet is a rich green.  It’s a picture of freedom...

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