Writing Through the Grief

The inaudible voice in my heart was unmistakable and the message clear: I want you to write your daughter’s story and I will give you the strength to do it. It was not an assignment I relished; in fact, it was a directive I dreaded. Write about my daughter, Lord?...

Soft and Strong

This morning when I sat down at my desk, I glanced at the box of yellow Puff tissues sitting to my right. I’d seen them many times. But this morning the words along the bottom of the tissue box summoned my attention as though I’d never seen them before. “Soft and...