Asking, part 1

IMG_8930It was a hipster coffee shop called Thump. They roast their own coffee beans, of course. I bought a bottle of Kombucha because I wanted something cold and because I don’t drink coffee. Don’t ask me how to pronounce it. It promised me strawberry lemonade and delivered an earthy mixture of flavors unfamiliar to my Southern palate. Continue reading “Asking, part 1”

Asking, part 2

I have never been particularly good at prayer — diligence, faithfulness or even lament. “Prayer warrior” would never make my resume. I’ve known people who are amazing at this. The ones who use a journal or index cards with names for each day of the week. Or pray for an hour each day. Or have a particular place they always pray. I’ve known those people. And felt a sense of awe for them. I long for that kind of discipline. Continue reading “Asking, part 2”