Once the leaves start falling, you don’t get a second chance.

A homemade dessert, an old card game and a reminder of what hospitality can do.

Sometimes the best view comes from turning around to see how far you’ve come.

My 12-year-old great-nephew built a sandcastle with an emergency hideout, and I think he’s on to something.

After months away from the pool, I rediscovered one of the few places where nothing fills the silence.

An overheard interview, a pending court date and a little grace.

I didn’t plan on making a second trip through the fog, but what felt like an inconvenience turned into something I didn’t know I needed.

After losing my beloved cat Latte, I’ve been thinking about the sounds around me and how we don’t always know which ones we’ll miss until they’re gone.

A few small kindnesses in a pre-op room reminded me that how we care for people can matter more than the things we do for them.

A milestone birthday, a fast food lunch and a nursing home down the street reminded me that the place we consider the end is really just the beginning.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped trying to keep up with what’s going on in the world and discovered that a quieter life might be exactly what God had in mind for me all along.

Words change with every generation, but maybe the best stories speak a language that never goes out of style.

What happens when God rewrites your calendar? A reflection on interrupted plans, faithful stewardship and trusting Him.

I prefer digital. Lately, though, I’ve been wondering if tangible things have something digital files lack – a second life.

A doctor's offhand comment about surfing led me to think about the quiet moment when our favorite physical pursuits begin slipping beyond our reach.

A gravel road in the middle of Omaha becomes a dusty path back through memory, ancestry and the people who helped shape the road home.

A quiet reflection on late-night listening, creative surrender, and trusting that the words will still be there when the season changes.

Moving isn’t just about boxes and addresses. It’s layered — with memories, routines, hopes and the quiet disorientation of starting over.