Miracle kisses a boy in her quiet musing. But Chase Montgomery isn't just a boy; he's a rising star on the high school football team. Chase is a boy that his number one fan finds pleasantly charming. “Will you be my girl?” he asks, holding her hand on the afternoon bus. “Okay!” she responds with shallow, rapid breaths. This day is one she’ll never forget; the adrenaline one feels when a rollercoaster nears its highest altitude describes a crush like hers. What should I do abo

Henry eyes the horizon, having his mind set about the direction his life will take. Having a perception about what love is and ought to be presents a set of challenges of its own. A war rages between good and evil for a prideful, wayward son of a praying mom like Fran. “The bible says…” says Fran. “But I believe…” Henry declares. A draft settles in the house, expanding the chill between Fran and her youngest child, who knows everything, he thinks , about life. "Self-deception

Grace stands backstage with her prayer warriors. Her mind travels through the long suffering, refining, and destiny it took to get here. In the distance, she hears the indistinct chatter of people filling the stadium. The rising angle of her lips reveals comfort as Addison Road's "Hope Now" serves as her theme music for the evening. In the passing moments, she shakes to a series of dings. “Praise the Lord!” she answers. “Praise the Lord,” he returns. “All I want to say is God

Not today, Satan, Bre thinks lying on a gurney, as a sonographer scans her right breast. It didn't work then, and it won't work now. She knows all too well the scare tactics of the enemy. The father of lies devises ways to trigger anxiety, doubt, and fear. Today is no different, she thinks, lying calmly, staring at a single, square tile of a blue sky on the ceiling. Someone thought to put this mural there, for women who are lying in wait―in wait hoping to not hear the word

Charlie stands across Main Street peering into the tinted windows of her favorite bar. She travels inside with her senses, inhaling the oak, vanilla, and caramel of a famous blend. This liquor brushes against her inner cheeks, causing her lips to softly perch. Strangers study a woman frozen in time, one who finds solace in a crisis that others might perceive as weakness. Suddenly, her euphoria fades as a child lets out a loud scream. This is a losing battle , she thinks .

Waves are always in constant motion. A distinctive aspect of their behavior is the variation in the way they come ashore. Each wave is unique, and can never wash ashore the same. Mapping out plans remind me of the ocean. E very goal we set is attainable in various ways. Like the ebb and flow of waves spilling onto the sand, goals can never be achieved without an unrelenting motion. Staying focused on the objectives we set requires commitment. Goals are only achievable if we

Jules persists in her prayers asking, "Lord, should I stay with John, or should I leave? Tell me what to do." Eager to hear a whisper, a murmur, or a sound, she returns to bed where John places his large hand on the small of her back. His gentle caresses evoke her conflicting emotions, compelling her to choose between lust and God. It can be anyone's guess as to what she decides. As the light fades into the dark sky, John arrives at Jules' apartment the next evening. He scans

“Daddy, why do you always carry a gun?” asks four-year-old Natalie. “Because I’m a gun-toting preacher,” Rick replies. “You see—I know the bible, but I also know how to operate a semi-automatic.” Her tiny forehead begins to wrinkle as she considers his response. “I don't like guns. They kill people,” says Natalie, shifting her head from left to right. “Well, honey, I carry it to protect our family. There is also a thing called the Second Amendment.” Repeating the same head mo

"God, she left me," Ryan weeps on his knees. “Please bring her back.” Feeling the throbbing in his limbs, he stands and staggers down the hallway. The bruises she left behind replace the blissful memories on the walls of their home. Your tears won’t work this time, says a message on a photo of her bruises. I’m not coming back, reads another. After seeing the impact of his rage, he mourns as his throat burns. "I'm sorry...I'm so so sorry," his voice echoes in the darkness. R

Bre lays stiff on a gurney as she waits for the diagnostic results of her mammogram. Thoughts travel through her mind as she shivers in fear. Why is there breast cancer? Why do some women get diagnosed while others don't? Why are mammograms so intimidating? In the stillness, whispers to God escape her lips. When the nurse emerges, Bre listens intently as tears gather in her eyes. Thinking of the miracle therein, she slowly dresses and grabs her personal effects. As she studi

Micah slams the drawer of a file cabinet where hot cocoa sits atop. "Jesus, I hate this place!" he says. He rubs his chest, making the stain spread. "Sweetie, take a deep breath. Go buy a new one," Dana says. "And miss the sales party, noo thank you, " he replies. When that ignoramus sees my shirt, maybe he'll remember my bonus, Micah thinks. As Micah devours the food on his plate, the boss says, “My God! What happened to your shirt?" Micah releases a long sigh. "Hot cocoa a

Ella sits with her fingers interlocking, waiting for her granddaughter’s weekly visit. As Riley enters, Ella says, "Hurry, child. There is little time." Riley asks, “Little time for what?” Ella sways back and forth, waiting to hear a story. Riley, a writer, scrunches her nose from the whiff of strong ammonia in Ella's room. “How often are they changing the bedpans in this place?” she asks. A short time later, a chime prompts Riley to scan her phone. Ella appears to write a sa

“ If you don't like the way things are, write a new chapter.” Chrissy storms into Louise’s kitchen as streaks of mascara stain her plump cheeks. “What has got you so bothered this morning?” Louise asks. “I am tired, Aunt Lou. Just tired of everything,” Chrissy says. “Life is full of twists and turns, my Dear. I would be a lying woman if I told you any different,” Louise says. “Well…how do I stop it from twisting?” Chrissy questions. “I'm afraid you can't, but no one can write