being found
Ihave a friend who has wounds so deep that she resists the compassionate love of others. Caring people have reached out to my friend. They would give their lives for her (in fact, in many ways they’ve done precisely that). Yet she runs from their love. She fears being loved. The love offered to her is so strong, and her heart so weak, that it terrifies her. It seems safer just to stay in her cocoon.
one mission
My husband and I often must act as referees while moderating the differences between our two offspring. They focus on what makes them different instead of what unites them. We frequently remind the two that they need each other—something that’s hard for them to see.
a heavenly lineage
Simon’s mother was 18 when she fell in love with a man who showered her with the affection she lacked at home. Their romantic tryst was short-lived, however, and he quickly returned to his wife and family when he discovered that she was pregnant.
changeless
She said to him, “I don’t want to try to fix our marriage. It’s over.” What had started with such high hopes and evident love was now a cold, lifeless thing. My friend desired to see renewal and restoration in their relationship, but his wife made it clear that the two of them had changed and that their marriage would soon end.
rejecting the red
The world’s biggest sperm bank is turning away redheads. (No, I’m not advocating the use of sperm banks.) Why is Cryos International rejecting “ginger” donors from its ranks? Because not enough clients want red-haired children. In fact, the only country that has a high demand for redheaded donors is Ireland—a land known for people with lovely red locks. Personally, I…
love and hate
There’s definitely a fine line between love and hate. I read of a wife who was so fed up with her husband’s cheating that she said, “I didn’t want to divorce [him], but I wanted him to die.” The adulterous husband said of his bride: “I didn’t love her. I wanted a divorce.”
A disturbing account in the Bible reveals…
never alone
Brianne Leckness sat on the steps of a church, abandoned by her mom and step-dad. Brianne was 3 years old. Her parents had pinned a note on her shirt: “Please take care of her. We can’t any longer.” Passed from foster home to foster home, Brianne grew up the best she could. Brianne remembers how, on her 18th birthday, her…
