“Fear not,” He says, but it is too late. I am already face down, fingers grasping stones, fingernails scraping dust. I grasp at the familiar. The glory burns and my knees come in tight. I fold up small hoping to hide. …
On the day He returns, rocks will prostrate, valleys rise up to meet His feet, and Alpine peaks bow down. The landscape will heal and surge and a highway will roll out a red carpet. The Savior will set the pads…
We married in the dark candlelight of December. Flurries swirled on Kenyon College’s campus and we hurried into the stone church holding all our hopes for our future. We were crazy young: 18 and 20. We turned toward each other, said…