Her

The weight of her in my arms, unchanged by time. The smell of her sweet, musky joy so pure. Traces of the baby she was play across a woman's face. The full, ebullient round of my love, the swell of heart, it's almost too much to bear. Yet we endure in this dance, She as…

While I Wait, I Work

In a reiteration of historian Thomas Fuller, "The darkest hour always comes before the dawn." Once Jesus gave up His spirit, creation's heart broke with a great earthquake, the dead emerged from their tombs, and the Holy of Holies became visible from behind a torn curtain. "This man truly was the Son of God!" proclaimed those present at…