I am still lashed to the mast of my faith. The storm is over, the waves and the wind have obeyed.
As Advent advances, I feel an increasing ache that only the maggots and the manager bring. It is an ache one long-held in ransom; one born in lonely exile; one exhausted by expectation.
What we fear and what we should fear are often two very different things.
I confess that find the truth about sexual offenders callously cold, hard, and unspeakably complex.
Women, who were voiceless “property,” fought for the right to have property and a voice.
His approach was stealth, quiet, brooding, and dark. He came over my soul and spirit and in one bite severed my hands. Not my heart, no – my hands. I could no longer grasp the driftwood or the bread of hope.
I am coming to The Courage Conference in October 2018 to share with you how to use “Motion as Lotion,” how to remove the residue of ruin, and how to thaw the frozen bits. I come to you with years of not only professional, but personal experience, cradled in still aching arms.
Not speaking was confirmed by crushing circumstances, brutal beatings, sexual abuse, and wholesale neglect.
Do not pick up the frail and fallen unless you must. Give them the dignity of rising in what strength they have.
This post is an attempt to set right a grievous wrong against an undeserved man.