What happens to friendships when our memories are only ghosts?

empty-swings

By Carlton H. Colby & Amanda Cleary Eastep Memories by Carl I met J and his younger brother in a crab apple fight. I lost. Of course, it wasn’t fair, me against the two of them along with another brother who couldn’t throw far because he was still a little guy, but he tried anyway. J […]

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Seismic Shift or Gentle Nudge (& a sneak peek!)

Sneak peek, dear Readers! You will find the rest of this post about “faith shifts” in a new space I’ve been building with author and friend Michelle Van Loon. MORE on that SOON! By Amanda Cleary Eastep I always imagined that someday I would be one of those people who younger Christians look at with a wistful […]

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Day 7: Walking the Path Alone

forest-trail

He hiked the entire Appalachian Trail. All 2,179.1 miles of it in 6 months. Alone. I chatted with him at a recent event at Lake Katherine Nature Center. His essential gear–water pouches, bedroll, and a “cookstove” made from the bottom of a soda can–were spread across the display table.

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Day 6: “Wander” what your purpose is?

I’ve been oddly obsessed with the concept of “purpose” since I was a kid. I had what I would call an “encounter” with God at about the age of nine, and I was convinced that when God “called” you, that meant you had to be a missionary to cannibals. Cannibals eat people. So I just lay in my bed and balled my eyes out.

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Day 5: Dropping Blessings like Breadcrumbs

Her sturdy frame was hunched as if the bag in one hand and the purse in the other held bricks not books. She reminded me of pictures you see of women from other countries, bent low beneath the weight of baskets or swaddled children…

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Day 4: Leaving Anger along the Path

Several years ago, a study of 70 million posts on China’s version of Twitter mapped the interactions of users and four key emotions expressed. They found that “anger spreads wider than any other emotion.”

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Day 3: Wandering into Surprise

bootie-woods

I had barely mixed the pancake batter before my three year old had launched into her morning ritual. Indifferent to breakfast, and blonde, wispy hair still looking like a homeschool experiment in static electricity, she pointed at the back door and tugged at my hand…

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