We treat our bodies a little like Christmas trees. Every December, out come the bins from the garage. Lights, ornaments, the garland that somehow gets more tangled every year. We turn this plain tree into something elaborate and bright that we prop up in the corner and admire. And honestly?

Why does the perfect comeback never show up when you actually need it? You know exactly what I mean. You hang up after a frustrating call, or walk away from a tense exchange, and in the moment you just kind of survive it. Twenty minutes later, on the drive home

Casinos are loud on purpose. That's not atmosphere. It's strategy. The bells, the celebratory sounds, the constant stimulation: all of it is engineered to keep you engaged. To keep your nervous system just activated enough that you don't think to leave. The noise does

I have to watch myself when I tell stories. There's something in me that, given the opportunity, will add just a little extra flavor. A touch of drama to make sure you really feel how significant this moment was. And I don't think I'm

I wonder sometimes if we've accidentally sorted our prayers into categories. The important pile and the not-important-enough pile. The ones that qualify and the ones we just handle ourselves because, honestly, does God really need to weigh in on this particular situation? We save Him for the big