Jesus, I want to look at this guy and see You, but that's hard anymore. You, at least occasionally, I can understand.
Aaron and I are sitting on the sidewalk, talking to Lars, and apparently this old woman feels like we have sympathetic ears because she begins to unloaded her story. "The market is squeezing the seniors out onto the streets!"
My daughter is teary-eyed as she gets in the car. The only religion off the table for the kids to choose from was Satanism. Witchcraft, okayed. Voodoo, okayed. "I had to switch groups and I broke down crying in front of the whole class."
Faces of Jesus: Lars I’ve learned. The next time I see Lars I don’t hand him anything. I say, “Hi,” and sit on the sidewalk next to him for a long and intentionally silent conversation, keeping five bucks hidden under my hand on the curb. It’s almost nice. I mean, twenty-five minutes of being still, …