When I read the scrolling text on my red coin and thermos, I see an invitation to savor the true message the material world hides this season. Santa Billy knows what that red coin really means: we don't have to be good enough. We just have to believe—in showing up, in choosing the third door, in God showing up in unexpected places like Savannah hotels and beach tractors and a manger because every room was full.
mental health
The Man Cave Where I Lost My Faith and the Firewood Still Waiting in My Yard
In my brother's theater room, I first considered divorce. Now the firewood from my fallen oak sits uncollected—like my faith, once alive and thriving, now silent with an uncertain future. Why ask why at all?
Writer's Growth 