Upon reading this story, I was enraged at the men who carried out this young woman’s punishment. Her life was taken from her for an act that’s committed every day here in our country, the land of the free and home of brave (and unashamed) adulterers. Then I thought, isn’t Somalia where those pirates make their home base? A country that harbors thieves and murders, yet executes adulterers. Then I considered the strictness of Islamic law and its penal system. How could such a deed among consenting adults, one that seemingly doesn’t hurt anyone—how could it warrant such a sentence?

I’d been thinking a lot about Dad over the past week, especially since it would have been his birthday last Saturday. I imagine it was these thoughts that led to a dream the other night. I don’t usually remember my dreams, and even less seldom do I share them with others.

Today marks the occasion of my dad’s birthday. He would have been 50 today. Coincidentally, my grandma is celebrating her 75th today. Two milestone numbers they’d planned to commemorate together. It’s hard to believe it’s been two months since Dad died. It seems like just yesterday when we were driving [...]

Eleven years ago today Cindy and I awoke in a daze. Had the previous day really happened? Yes, Cindy’s womb was empty. The first of now three, Lindsay joined our family on November 2nd a little earlier than planned—nearly three months prematurely. We’d stayed the night in a hotel, what seemed a world away from our premie, who spent her first night in the NICU at St. Joseph’s in downtown Phoenix. We made the three-hour drive from Yuma the previous morning, just eight hours after Lindsay was born. She’d taken a helicopter ride that first day of her fragile life.

It’s been some time since I’ve written anything I thought anyone but myself would read. This is just a response to what’s been burdening me. Whether it’s from God or just an artistic longing, I’m feeling compelled to write, despite the fact that perhaps no one may see my words.