I remembered it as if it were yesterday, I stood just inside our garage, surrounded by its neat clutter, tears welling in my eyes. All I prayed was to take our kids camping—to spend time with them and Jeanne outdoors, fishing and sharing incredible meals over a campfire. But our funds didn't allow it. Though this prayer seemed small, it was deeply meaningful to me, a longing I'd long forgotten.   This particular day, I found myself walking in that very longing. Climbing the mountain, my son...

The storm settled in.  In the Midwest, people often sit on porches to watch thunderstorms or tornadoes, holding coffee or sweet tea. We're both fascinated and afraid of storms, drawn to their awe but sometimes forgetting the danger.    That stormy feeling covered me as a pre-teen, wandering Louisville's Highlands streets at night. I spent nights aimlessly, seeking distraction from home. Whoever wandered with me was welcome if it meant escaping reality, smoking, listening to a boom box,...

The Weight of Childhood Trauma It was 1974. The year that marked the end of the Vietnam War, brought us Elton John’s "Bennie and the Jets," and gifted us "The Godfather Part II." I was nine years old, a time filled with carefree days of goofing off in class, riding bikes, and staying up late on summer nights. The world felt like an endless horizon of hope, where I could look up at a boundless sky and dream of a wide-open future. That’s how it should be for a nine-year-old, right? But life...