The woman is never identified by name. She doesn’t speak a word. She is simply referred to as “a woman in the city, who was a sinner.” While the exact......

I have been intrigued with why a good God allows good people to suffer. So recently I chose to study the Book of Job as one of my required Old......

When our boys were little they treasured our story times. Especially after dinner, when they were bathed, now in their pyjamas, we’d gather together on our living room couch. The......

Last spring my mother’s health began to falter. Sensing she was entering the last leg of her journey, I pressed pause on many of my commitments. I knew I would......

I know we’ve all been there. Where we’ve worried about someone. Felt disconcerted about some choices they were making. And we wrestled with whether we should say something. Wondering if......

Our stories matter. Stories are an entry point for us to become known. Where the fertile space is cleared for greater understanding, compassion and appreciation. Where others can be inspired......

We hold tightly to our stories. Afraid to share their truths. Preferring to appear normal, to fit in, we end up hiding behind masks, feeling alone and disconnected. Unknown. We are......

When we are in the midst of suffering, and at the end of our self and our own resources, we are often confronted by the paradox that though we may......

Driving the exact same route to work every day. Using a preferred coffee mug. Going year after year to the same place for summer holidays. Putting on our shoes or......