We arrived at the center, and I psyched myself up for what was sure to be a difficult goodbye. I could already anticipate the guilt I’d feel as she’d tearfully beg me to stay. But we walked in anyway. The greeter efficiently welcomed me, and then she ushered us to Emma’s new home away from home.

That’s when it all fell apart.

I thought about gathering all of the girls tonight and giving them a mom talk of confidence. But a) I'm not sure we'll have the time backstage, and b) I'm pretty sure half of them already think I'm a crazy old lady. So, instead, I write this public letter to the girls of Matilda and anyone else who needs a reminder.

t’s not what you’d call the “typical” response to bad news.

When art dealer and author Forrest Fenn was diagnosed with terminal cancer in 1988, he hid a bronze chest in an undisclosed location, attempting to create the ultimate treasure hunt.

Barnabas Foundation announces the upcoming release of Money and Spirit: Surrendering Our Finances to the Work of the Holy Spirit by Heather M. Day. A biblically grounded study on the intersection of faith and finances, Money and Spirit is designed to be a practical resource for individuals, couples, and small groups.

Adding insult to injury, he was wearing his last resort, worn-out socks, and they had once again slumped to his heel. Exasperated, the man yanked the limp cotton stockings back to their proper position. Then, with unbridled passion, he bellowed his rage to the world.

“These SOCKS are RUINING my LIFE!”

I’m excited at the possibilities—but I’m not at all enthusiastic about taking that journey in public.

Strangely, my biggest fear is that the surgery will accomplish exactly what it’s supposed to do, and people will notice. And talk about it.  And think things about me. And ask questions. And I hate that.

He wasn’t spooked, not even for a moment.

Instead, he put down his hammer just long enough to send a quick reply: “Nothing like what you are saying is happening; you are just making it up out of your head.”

It was my last week, the end of a nine-year tenure for a job into which I’d poured my heart and soul. I was sorting through files, determined to leave everything in perfect order for the person stepping into my role. I wanted nothing more than to end well and set him up for success.

I should have seen it coming. After all, communicating persuasively runs through her genes.

My husband and I were adamantly opposed to my 16-year-old daughter getting a job – at least during the school year. We were fine with the occasional babysitting gig. What we didn’t want was for her family time/homework availability to be dictated by minimum wage. However, my daughter seldom sees "no" as the final answer.

44 is the new 24. Just because I’ve used a rotary phone, inserted a floppy disk into my IBM, and I once placed a two-for-one order for the soundtracks to Pretty Woman and Romeo and Juliet (Leo!!!) from Colombia House means absolutely nothing.