I don’t know if I’ve ever told her this—she’s probably reading this now—but I admire her for pressing through her struggles. They’re real, and people who stay in the fight come out stronger in the end. I’m pretty sure the Apostles talked about that—about having spiritual endurance and all. To the Romans, the Apostle Paul wrote....

By midafternoon, I had wrapped up my visits. My brain said, "Back to the office, Jason. There are emails to ignore and a sermon to begin fretting over." But a smaller, more insistent voice whispered: "Detour? You’ve never actually seen Albion Lutheran. Let’s let Siri lead the way."

As I pondered the article, I wondered how I’d react if I were the surprised homeowner. A man, born 41 years ago with the same potential as anyone else, broke into a home only to find shelter and food. Perhaps he felt as though no one cared about him in a world where we’re so quick to toss anything to the curb—sometimes including the "dregs" of society.

But one minor interruption aside, I awoke this morning well-rested, actually beating the alarm clock to the punch for once. I think far too often I take a good night’s sleep for granted. I’ve probably written about this before—with this being Day 156, who knows? I might be repeating myself, but at 57, that’s practically my prerogative. In all seriousness, the quality of your sleep (or lack thereof) changes the entire trajectory of your day.

Sitting across from my wife tonight at supper, I finally just leaned back and said, “It’s been one of those days, ya know? I’m trying really hard to find something to be thankful for, but I feel like I’m coming up short.” Danielle just sat there, quiet, giving me that knowing nod. She didn't need a recap. She’d already lived through two of the three reasons my head was spinning, and she’d heard the play-by-play of the third on our drive home.

Jesus knew that food is the ultimate equalizer. It brings us together, but the sweet, sticky stuff that actually keeps us together isn't just the BBQ sauce. It’s love. It’s friendship. It’s the kind of grace that doesn't care if you've got sauce on your chin. We need more of this. We need to find a reason—any reason—to fire up the grill and invite someone over. In hindsight, I should’ve done this tonight. We had plenty on the table, with a full rack to spare.

As we sat there chatting over the remains of our lunch, my mind drifted to "America’s Pastime." I haven't followed the Twins closely in years, but man, I miss the atmosphere of a live game. It’s just such a great time with the family, isn't it? Most years when we lived in Toledo, we made it a point to catch a Mudhens game. For us, it was never really about the box score; half the time we didn’t even know the players' names. It was about the time spent with our girls, chillin

Let me tell ya, that first go at Bessie’s brisket didn’t turn out half-bad. In fact, it was downright delicious. The dogs gave their enthusiastic seal of approval. Now, I just need to go buy Bessie’s bestie and give it another whirl. But before that, I’ve got plans for the leftovers: burnt ends and brisket nachos. Oh yeah! If you’re a BBQ aficionado, you know that’s the real prize

Tonight, I’m thankful that God pulled me out of that double-double chocolate life and let me settle back into the world of plain vanilla. After all, isn't plain vanilla the basis for every good thing in this life? Thank you Lord for every good thing. May we all only look to you to satisfy our lives.

For years, I’ve searched for a book I know I once owned. I must still have it, I tell myself. Is it tucked away in a dusty box in the garage? Is it hiding in plain sight on a shelf, eluding my aging eyes? I’ve even forgotten the title, yet the weight of its message remains etched in my mind.

Now, I realize our Roman Catholic brothers and Orthodox friends might want to pull the emergency brake and shout, "Whoa, back up the truck, mister! Why are you tossing two millennia of church history into the trunk just to give the Bible the driver’s seat?" To which I would politely, sardonically retort: Why aren’t you?

So, there I was—gorging on bacon and a side banana (and NO, I didn't put the banana on the sandwich; I’m not a Philistine)—when I opened Facebook to snoop at who’d glanced at my post from last night. Gotta stroke the ego, ya know? Then I heard it: Ba-llingggg!

I wonder if God orchestrates these "brain-leak" days on purpose? It makes sense. He did, after all, create the Sabbath. As Mark 2:27 says, “The Sabbath was made for man and not man for the Sabbath.” God knew we’d need to re-coop so we can tackle the next mission. He knew that sometimes, the most spiritual thing you can do is admit you’re running on fumes and stop trying to be profound.

I spent a couple of summers in the BWCA as a kid and, if you’ve never been, let me tell you: the beauty is stunning. I’ve always been grateful for the lessons I learned there as a teen. Even now, as an "aging adult," I long to return—if only to gaze upon its grandeur. Not that I necessarily want to go on a portage-heavy canoe trip and get devoured by thousands of man-eating mosquitoes again, mind you. But if we could enjoy the sights while keeping our flesh intact? Count me i

Rob and I chatted briefly today, reminiscing about the "good old days." Neither of us could have envisioned what God had planned while we were busy worrying about hairspray and guitar riffs....

As we drove home, I couldn't stop thinking about that phrase: The Good Old Days. I chuckled to myself as I walked through our back door, thinking that you really know you’re getting old when you start unironically reminiscing about them. But then, as I was putting on my "comfy clothes" (read: elastic waistbands are a blessing from the Lord), it dawned on me....

There isn’t a Little Caesars within striking distance of these parts, but we do have Casey’s. And while Casey’s isn’t exactly the crème de la crème of the "za-za" world, it’s an absolute life-saver when you’ve promised to feed a literal horde of hungry teenagers. Enter the Casey’s Pizza Pickup Party. Well, it’s less of a party and more of a strategic peace treaty. Let me preheat the oven and tell you the genesis of this particular story.

Sometimes, we need to stop and smell the roses—or look at the roadside trailers—because what’s here today is truly gone tomorrow.

I’m thankful for that circle—for those we honor, like Mary, and for the little ones who haven't yet arrived. You were put on this planet to love and be loved, and that is the loveliest part of the whole ride.

The old saying is true: Laughter is the best medicine. Probably because it's the only one without a terrifying list of side effects read by a fast-talking narrator. Tonight, I’m thanking the Father for the gift of a good guffaw. Without it, we’d all be a miserable bunch of "knights who say Ni."