Rain on dry dust. I remember walking barefooted down a dirt road as a kid in Arkansas, watching those first few drops strike the ground before me. The dust became blotched with dark blobs of wetness, and as more sprinkled down, my nostrils filled with the incredible rich smell of the earth beginning to drink. … More Inkspill No. 20: Rain on Dry Dust
We all need God, more than we can possibly imagine. Apart from the check of His hand, humans are capable of monstrous things. I’ve been thinking a lot about the repercussions of decisions I’ve made in the past; things I can’t change. And I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m really not as important as … More Inkspill No. 18: Identity Crisis? Read on.