Remembering Well
The smell of homemade buttermilk biscuits transported me across space and time to summer in my Mamaw’s kitchen. There, mornings …
The smell of homemade buttermilk biscuits transported me across space and time to summer in my Mamaw’s kitchen. There, mornings …
“Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly.” Good for you, Bartimaeus. You wouldn’t …
“Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee / How great Thou art, how great Thou art.” Twice this …
I did not grow up in a church that did “sword drills.” Many of my friends have described standing before …
It was my first and only murder trial. As a volunteer chaplain with the jail, I had been asked by …