This morning as I was sitting reading my Bible, I caught a glimpse of the Olympic mountains out my window. They were covered in the early morning light which reflected off their snow-covered peaks. It only lasted for a few minutes, but I drank in the breathtaking beauty of those minutes in silent prayer to God.
Something sort of mystical and magical happened after a 19-year-old kid named Papito was killed on our block a few weeks ago. As our neighborhood ached and grieved and cried with his family, we began to create a memorial for Papito where he died