Grant

At this point, I’ve applied to over 200 jobs. That’s not hyperbole. That’s real. Click after click. Cover letter after cover letter. A few calls. A lot of silence. Mostly rejections. And the occasional glimmer of hope. One of those glimmers is tomorrow…

It’s “Operation Cleanup” week in our neighborhood. Once a year, the city sends out a fleet of backhoes and dump trucks to collect anything we want to throw away. Broken furniture. Rusted yard tools. Appliances that haven’t worked in a decade. You name it—if it doesn’t work, if you don’t want it, just drag it…

The day after the Fourth of July felt like a good excuse for some fun in the sun. So we drove up to the lake—just a small dose of summer before the routine pulled us back in and Sophia headed to camp. And I came prepared. Or so I thought…

Last year, Sophia was nervous. Her bag was packed, but her heart was knotted—anxious, hesitant, unsure of what the week away might hold. It was her first time at summer camp. First time being gone that long. First time, really, letting go. This year? Entirely different…

Sometimes the ache isn’t what someone did to you. It’s what they didn’t. They didn’t show up when you needed them. Didn’t ask how you were doing. Didn’t reciprocate the hours, the help, the prayer, the invitation, the loyalty. And suddenly you’re not just disappointed. You’re tallying.

It’s the Fourth of July. A day for barbecues and fireworks. For laughter and lake water. For celebrating a freedom that came through bravery and bloodshed. I love all of that. And I’m thankful for it. But today’s reading reminds me: there’s a deeper freedom—one no founding document could ever guarantee…

Some days you just feel off. Not because anything tragic happened. Not because the world’s caving in. Just… off. Today was one of those days for me…

Some seasons feel like they’re on pause. Like life is happening somewhere else—just not here. Not now. That’s what summer can feel like for a lot of college students…

Some storms hit suddenly. Others you see coming. And sometimes, the hardest place to stand… is in the calm before the wind…

I didn’t post yesterday. Not because I didn’t want to. Not because I didn’t try. But because life caught up—and for the first time in 180 days, I didn’t hit “publish.” And you noticed. Texts. Emails. Phone calls. A few gentle jabs. A lot of love. Which made me laugh. And tear up. And realize…