Tag: incarnational storytelling
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Running Backward Up the Hill
I finished my first draft in six weeks. 113,000 words, running downhill the whole way. Now I have to cut 18,000 of them — and they all feel necessary.
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Who She Is
Green light. Head down. My hand hovering over the horn. I knew exactly who she was — until I remembered who I was.
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What Got Left Out
His photo ran above eight hundred words of honest praise. I know the other side of that door. This is about holding both.
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Reliable When She Can’t Be
Four days in the last two weeks. I’ve spent hours inside the Versa, sunglasses on, air conditioning running, waiting for one participant who has zero regard for timing, schedules, rules, or even other people. I have to keep telling myself that greatness isn’t built from magical, life-changing moments. It’s the small acts. Ones showing others…
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The Quiet Ones
Some days the drive is forty-five minutes of small talk. Some days it’s forty-five minutes of nothing at all — and it took a lit cigarette and a quiet “thank you” to teach me the second one matters more.
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Just Listen
She was done with the church. He didn’t fix it. He just stood in the produce aisle, listening.
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Believing is Seeing
She asked me a question I couldn’t answer. Not quickly, anyway. “Why follow the rules when rich folks don’t?” Gloria deserved better than a bumper sticker. So I tried.
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The Wall That Isn’t There
Charlie wiped away a tear. “She kept showing up. She didn’t have to. But she did.” His first sponsor was a Black woman from Sikeston. She was the first person who ever loved him for who he was.
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UFO Sighting in Missouri: She Wasn’t Lying
She pointed at the blurry picture on her phone. “This right here — this is a real UFO.” Traveling these curvy Missouri hills, she waved it in front of me. For a second, I thought we might crash.
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You Almost Walk By
Most storytelling describes values. Incarnational storytelling makes you feel them before they’re named. The difference between an audience and a witness.
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Prepositions Matter
Most of us pray FOR and call it hope IN. We do not notice the preposition doing theological work. Until we do.
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Show Up. Stay. Risk It All.
Three ice waters. Fifteen minutes. A shaken server on the verge of tears. A nine-top that wasn’t ours. A middle table where everyone could see us. New on Five Minute Observations — a quiet essay about showing up, staying, and the risk of being kind first.
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Embers
I smacked Ray’s arm out of the way, waiting for him to swing back. He didn’t. His older brother held me back. Fifty minutes later I was kneeling in front of the wood stove, still burning. And the fire wasn’t mine.
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What If They Say Yes
Most people won’t admit they’re afraid of good news. Or that time passing terrifies them more than failure does. I’ll go first. Two overlooked fears. An ancient promise. And one question: what if they say yes?