I sat across from him in our prayer exercise during our intensive, as he asked, “What’s the source of energy behind your words?” I paused to reflect, and a memory surfaced at once. I remembered my mother’s words. I was ten, standing by the fence near the diving boards at Lakeside Swimming Club. I had just finished a frustrating practice—barely managing a flip off the low board. I felt like a failure. So, I just quit. I stood there in my Speedos, leaning against the fence. I heard my mother...

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 for 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...

Embracing the Chaos 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 those nights aimlessly, seeking distraction from home. Whoever wandered with me was welcome if it meant escaping reality—smoking, listening...