As I pondered over the madness of spending hours on social media or pursuing an unrequited, unfulfilling friendship, I caught myself thinking more and more, “This is not how I want to spend my life.”

My grandma is dying. In truth, she’s been dying for years now, my months punctuated with hospital scares and

This is the fourth year since your son died. You wonder where the time has gone, and wonder if it’d be cliche to say it sometimes still feels like yesterday.

I suppose normally now would be the moment to place some epilogue of good feeling, of how I see the way God is working, how I’m sure it will all make sense one day, of the good that has come from it. But I do not, and I don’t know why, and in truth, no “why” could ever excuse or justify the pain.