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The sound of tires slowing in the driveway, followed by the most gentle stop I think I’ve ever experienced. Like the car wasn’t totally sure we belonged here. I shut down the engine, but I’m not quite ready to go in. It almost seems like everything that happened since I last pulled out of this driveway was some separate reality. Or a brief detour that led me back home. I say brief but it was more like a misdirected 3 years. I guess in the grand scheme it’s not that long. Did

I know he’s out there somewhere. I don’t know when, but I’ll meet him someday. Maybe he’s walking his own winding road right now, headed somewhere he doesn’t need to be— just like me. And somehow, that thought is enough. I keep moving, steady steps through the noise and the smoke, through a world that feels like it’s burning down. Still, I’m content. At peace. Hell all around me, but my heart— my heart is full.

the legion of demons — named as men, under the guise of holiness, of closeness, of perfection. first in line to the fruitful darkness. I was one way — consumed by brokenness, lost in the wilderness, a taste of hell in a world begging to be left behind. now, I am another — clothed in His armor, the first to know, the first to see. what happened in between was Him. a sacrifice. an example. a mercy I could never earn. once the first one in, now the first into the light. Love. Jo

“Do you believe in soulmates?” I’ve always evaded this question. If you’ve met “the one”, you can say yes and it’s romantic. If you’re single (and have at least a fraction of a mental illness) you’re worried about sounding desperate, arrogant, naive, silly... like a damsel in distress waiting for some chap to come save her from herself. I’ve always felt like being a romantic was something to be ashamed of. Like it made me weak or otherwise undesirable. So, for years I forced

It’s the perfect day for a drive. Seventy-three degrees. Partly cloudy. The sun is high but merciful—just out of my eyes. In the rearview mirror, I catch a glimpse of my sweet girl, fast asleep, blissfully unaware… Tennessee stretched behind her like a soft watercolor. For the first time in a long, long time, I feel free. Crossing that state line, something in me unclenches. I can feel it in my chest, the tightness I’ve carried giving way to air. I sigh with relief—an honest,