loss

taste and see

taste and see

I was twelve years old when we packed our bags and moved south. Way south, to Florida– with palm trees, palmetto bushes, humidity, and fire ants. It was the first time I can remember screaming at my mother.  I told her I hated it. I wanted to go home to Alaska. The long and short of her answer? This…

bittersweet

bittersweet

(this post is part of a series that talks of how God met me in the midst of infertility. You can read the whole story in my book, Pain Redeemed or follow the series on here.) Intro: Wounds Taste of Tears The Gentle Healer   Our return home from Haiti was plagued with difficulties. From stepping…

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