I grew up in West Philadelphia, just a few blocks from the University of Pennsylvania. There were several stores within walking distance.  When I was around eight years old, there was a convenience store built and placed right in the middle of a block where UPenn students could get food and snacks. I'm pretty sure it was a WaWa. That quickly became one of my favorite stores. My Favorite Childhood Bubble Gum Flavor I remember going there one day with my mom. As always, I asked her to buy me pack of bubble gum and she said no. Wait, what?! I couldn't believe she told me no. It was less than a dollar. And I wanted it. But she sho nuff said no. I was determined to get that gum. I found a way to get away from her while we were still in the store and I grabbed a pack of gum. I found a way to get the gum out of the store without her knowing it. Nope, I didn't pay for it. So yep, I stole it. My mom and I got out of the store and were walking down the street. I was so happ

Ever hanger counts! My closet has been overflowing. It was time to create space. But nothing was ready to be thrown or given away. Or was it? Those shirts had been hanging in my closet for years. I received them from two different marriage retreats. They reminded me of so many good things. They reminded me of the time that we spent together early in our marriage. They reminded me of the hours of research, conversation, and planning we did around fostering long-lasting marriages. They reminded me of the ministry opportunities we received when we first relocated to Tallahassee. But that wasn't all. As time passed, those same shirts served as a reminder of the worst times within our marriage. They were a reminder of the deepest level of pain I ever experienced. They were a reminder of bad decisions. They were a reminder of emptiness and voids. In spite of all the negatives, these shirts remained in my closet day after day, year after year. I didn't wear them but they were