Why is it our failures only show us more clearly the people we are failing?

Fresh peach pie can lift a bullying reprobate into apologetic courtesy; I have watched it happen.

Real miracles bother people, like strange sudden pains unknown in medical literature.

We see a newborn moth unwrapping itself and announce, Look, children, a miracle! But let an irreversible wound be knit back to seamlessness? We won't even see it, though we look at it every day.

Once traveling, it's remarkable how quickly faith erodes. It starts to look like something else--ignorance, for example. Same thing happened to the Israelites. Sure it's weak, but sometimes you'd rather just have a map.

Routine is worry's sly assassin.

Hope is like yeast, you know, rising under warmth.