Sunday's sunrise looked just like that epic one from weeks ago—same impossible oranges, same fire painted across the water. I, however, was different. This time, I wasn't anticipating disaster but processing triumph. God had to prove that when I finally stepped back from the conductor's podium, He could orchestrate something more beautiful than my rigid score ever allowed.
family traditions
The Thanksgiving Before the Sun
Every morning, I arrive at the pier with empty hands and an open heart, ready for whatever sunrise God chooses to paint. But Thanksgiving? I arrive at Thanksgiving with a script written in my mother's hand, frustrated when God rewrites the scenes.
From Generations of Gardens to God’s Sovereignty: A Legacy of Faith and Growth
My grandfather's tomato garden connected me to generations of Italian immigrants who knew that growing things meant trusting God's provision. Here's how tending plants taught me about God's sovereignty and my place in His eternal family tree.
Writer's Growth 