We meet a lot of people, but who are the ones that stick in your mind? Do you ever wonder if you’re that memorable stranger for someone?
My grandmother passed away recently (hence no blog post last week). She taught me a great deal, and I would like to share some of her lessons.
I come from a lineage of hard hands, calloused from sharecropping, wood chopping, and moving steel billets into hellish furnaces. But my hands are soft.
After some thinking, I realized why Christmas has such a hold me—it’s the hope that comes with the holiday. Christmas drips with hope, and I know of few things that are more powerful than hope. I’m not talking about the “hope” that politicians (on both sides) bandy about during debates and speeches. Rather, I’m speaking of, well . . . actually, I’m talking about different levels of hope. Let me explain.