On Monday we all learned of the tragedy and horror of the school shooting in Nashville, TN. For days we have grieved and prayed for the victims and their families. What can we say? At

Karen sat in my office on the verge of tears.  She had arrived sharply on time and had given me no indication about why she might want to meet.  As a staff member with our

I clearly remember the rain fitting my mood one evening in southern California as my friend told me of his dreams.  He wanted what so many others wanted: a spouse, children, a home, a white picket

“Why should I be sacrificed on the altar of his growth?!”  I remember the day I said these words out loud to God.  I was angry.  Angry and hurt.  I didn’t think I could get

I remember the first time I discovered the poem “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost.  I was 9 years old and living in Japan as a military kid.  Something about this poem captivated me: I

We were walking through the hall on our way to the elevators after a particularly intense class lecture on Nietzsche.  I was a grad student working through my doctoral course work and my companion was a

Something felt familiar.  I was laying in my bed, consumed by sadness, loneliness, pain and grief.  At 17 weeks pregnant we were faced again with a routine appointment that revealed a heartbeat that had stopped.