That time I walked 8 city blocks and didn’t even complain.
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On the Eagles, Voluntary Agony and the Bliss of Not Having to Understand Everything
It’s not that deep, bro. But maybe that’s the point.
Built for glory. Wired for stories. Humbled by revisions.
That time I walked 8 city blocks and didn’t even complain.
One last letter of love to my late grandfather, until we meet again.
Already have 2016 all planned out? So did I! Until…
The immortal God became mortal Man and dwelt among us bringing…
“That time I picked my first pumkin and ended up cutting myself…” *bow*
The key to the American church’s survival could be right by your bedside.
My kind of a work trip.
Wanderlust or wander-lost?
When writers write about writers writing about writers…
There’s a reason why this book got those award stickers plastered on the cover.