“I used to be somebody.” Her words were faint, but I could hear the pain. Confronting her lost identity in prayer was her way of acknowledging the present and saying goodbye to the past. My heart ached for this beautiful woman of God whose perception of herself had...
I am not sure how I ended up crying in front of a shelf of taco shells and carb-control tortillas holding a copy of Woman’s World magazine. Nevertheless, there I stood, weepy and alone, in the middle of the grocery aisle at the Santa Rosa Safeway. My heart fluttered...
