Sandra M. Tully You wait a long time for Christmas morning drifting asleep even as the ebony slate of sky shatters in clarion silence Glory, Hallelujah! and shepherds in th ...

I stood in the middle of a valley. Hot wind whipped the sand at my feet. Dry bones, bleached by the sun covered the valley floor. Son of man, God said, can these bones live? It ...

Our son, Mattias, is eight years old. Everyone thinks their kid is special, and in a lot of ways, he’s just a regular kid. He loves fart jokes, enjoys riding his scooter and is obsessed with video games. But w ...