Beth McCorkle (Laura’s Gift, page 18) was already giving thanks for her son Joey’s recovery from a farming accident when he gave her something new to celebrate. In January 2023, less than three years after losing both of his legs, Joey got down on on

Mt. Rainier is among the tallest mountains in the continental United States. From its 14,410-foot summit in Washington’s Cascade Range, climbers on a clear day can see for hundreds of miles: distant peaks, evergreen forests, the sprawl of Seattle and

My little chihuahua, Paco, was one of a kind. He and I had been through a lot together. I thought of him as my soul dog, a gift from God. He’d come with me to Colorado when I moved in with my son to help with his twin daughters, Piper and Mia. Paco w

The place I call Deliverance Alley is a vacant lot of grass and dirt in a neglected south Dallas neighborhood. Drive by and you won’t see much. A sign on a deli across the street reads: “No trespassing, prostitution, drug dealing, loitering, weapons

I’ll pray for you.” When misfortune strikes, those words come so naturally, so automatically, even casually. But how many people follow through with heartfelt prayer? I want to tell you what can happen when someone does. Three years ago, my family e

Nineteen-year-old Felice Scaduto was working as an elevator operator at the Schroeder Hotel in Milwaukee when musician Boudleaux Bryant stepped into her elevator. Felice recognized him immediately—from a dream she’d had when she was eight. In the dre

Sure, I enjoy a golden sunset, ocean waves lapping a pristine beach and early-morning mist hovering over a lake. But seeing God’s world through my granddaughter’s eyes renews my wonder at his creation. Nellie never tires of scooping up tadpoles and w

I hobbled into the doctor’s office at the medical center, so weak and tired that I had to use a walker, too out of breath to mutter what I was thinking: I thought I was done with this, God. You’d think that after almost six decades of living with neu

Once when my children were eight, six and two, I didn’t have just a bad mothering day. I had a bad mothering week. I yelled at my kids, they misbehaved more, and my frustration level hit the roof. On Saturday, my husband told me, “I’ll take care of t

Our next-door neighbors stood on our front porch. “We want to attach a chain-link fence to your white vinyl one,” the wife said. “That’s not going to work,” my husband, Roger, said, shaking his head. “Our fence is inside the property line. We need to

I stood in the doorway of my daughter Micah’s bedroom, not wanting to step into what resembled a toxic waste dump. Black garbage bags bulging with stuff she insisted wasn’t trash. A tower of overflowing storage bins. Mountains of clothes all over the

I hurried across the grocery store parking lot, mentally going over my shopping list. Then I bumped into a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. We did a quick catch-up about our families and our jobs. Both of us were busy, busy, busy. Typical for working

I admit it. I was a bit of a birdbrain at identifying different feathered flyers. I recognized robins and cardinals, but the rest fell under the category of JABB—Just Another Brown Bird. I tried taking photos on my phone to look up birds with an iden

I poked my head out the side door of the house. Our dream house, my husband and I had thought when we’d moved in two years earlier. I flipped the switch to the lamppost in the yard. Nothing. Flipped it again. Still nothing. “It’s not working!” I call

When my department at work announced that they were hiring for my supervisor’s recently vacated position, I knew I wanted to apply for it. I also knew there would be a big problem. I am a licensed clinical social worker. I worked for an agency seekin

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I lay on the float in the pool, overlooking my backyard garden. Such a beautiful summer day. “I miss you, Mom,” I said. It had been nine days since my mom passed away. She had been sick with breast cancer and other health issues for the past few year

Edward Grinnan Why did you need to write your new book, Mostly What God Does: Reflections on Seeking and Finding His Love Everywhere? Savannah Guthrie I was surprised to find I wanted to write it. Even though it was hard and scary and certainly the m

WHO SHE IS Pat Anderson, 91, of Escondido, California, is the founder of The Busters Project, a group of breast cancer survivors providing handknit bust forms to women who have undergone mastectomy. Pat has been knitting since age eight, when she mad

Four Eyes. Blind Berry. The day I walked into my sixth-grade class with new glasses on, those became my new nicknames. It was 1953, but it still feels like it was yesterday. “I’m never going back to school,” I told Mama when I got home after another

By 1971, Bill Withers had saved up enough money from his job making toilet seats for jets at a California aircraft parts factory to fund studio time. Although he was far from tiny Slab Fork, West Virginia, where he’d grown up the son of a maid and a