Ten years ago today we lost my brother Jim. At forty-seven, he was in his prime. I lament the unfinished promise of his life, and all that it held for his two sons. I mourn for my sister’s children and my own, for all they lost in
Read more →Philip Yancey’s latest blog post shares his grief over the recent loss of his ninety-nine-year-old mother. He offers a “kind of mental dialogue” between himself and Nicholas Wolterstorff, a Christian philosopher, scholar, and author. In the early 1980s, Wolterstorff wrote Lament for a Son, a moving response
Read more →Book reviews are akin to manna for authors and readers alike. They help readers determine whether a title is worth their time and attention. For authors, they drive visibility and sales. Yet reviews can be elusive, especially for independent authors. This week’s giveaway looks to change that
Read more →As we continue celebrating the one-year anniversary of When Losses Become Legacies, this week’s giveaway challenges you to name the person in the picture below, and how he’s related to the Legacies book. Enter by Sunday, May 21, through the comments on this post, or on my
Read more →Welcome to three weeks of book giveaways! This week’s contest will honor our moms. Between now and Mother’s Day—Sunday, May 14—submit one sentence that captures your mom. Whether she’s here or on the other side of time, we want to hear about her distinctive qualities. Comment directly
Read more →My latest book, When Losses Become Legacies: Memoirs on Grief, God, and Glory, is turning one. To celebrate, my co-author, Christy, and I are hosting a print-book giveaway for each of the three weeks starting next Monday, May 8. All of the contests will be open for
Read more →About a year after my brother, Jim, ended his life, one of his friends asked me to speak to the mother of a young woman who had attempted suicide. Jim’s friend volunteers at the Ronald McDonald House in Cleveland, which offers families housing at little or no
Read more →Chicago is my home. I wasn’t born here, but I’m from here. Usually, where we’re from means where we were born. But that’s not the case for everyone. It’s not for me. Home is the place that shapes and influences us more than anywhere else. It’s a
Read more →On Sept. 11, 2001 I lived in Arlington, Va., a few miles from the Pentagon. When terrorists slammed a jetliner into the famed fortress, I was riding the subway to work, temporarily unaware that my city and my country were under attack. At work I huddled with
Read more →When my first child was born, I was unqualified for the job. If there were a test, I would’ve failed. Knowing my ineptitude, doctors and nurses would’ve snatched Noah and shooed me out of the hospital. A hormonal haze clouded me into thinking I did fail. What
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