I long to not cry in church. I yearn to be strong. Yet week after week I feel my resolve give way. We sing words.  Ancient words.  Words of Truth and Hope; Promise and life. While my spirit groans and aches.  I sometimes close my eyes and tell myself, if I turn around he'll be there in the balcony.  That red haired,crooked grin boy. Or if I try hard enough I will hear the beat of the drum. The Rhythm of the soul. Steady. Sometimes this world is just plain hard.  It's not devoid of happiness and joy; it's just hard. This season of finding time to be ... View Post