As consumers we love variety, yet feel trapped. On a grander scale, those who endure this paradox the most are young adults. As they launch out, they must pick from overflowing opportunities. So choose wisely. No stress, right?
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Your attitude to work exposes your choice to live either an inward or outward life. When you choose to complain and be complacent, it’s all about you.
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Society has entire industries around selling anesthetics, narcotics, amusements, distractions, and other ways to numb the pain. But there’s a fascinating lack of painkillers in the scriptures. Instead, many times we see those giving into pain, and God commanding us to support each other
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One of the greatest threats to young women in the coming 2020s will be the shrinking of the female mind via the weapon of pettiness, specifically through social media.
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Have become so relaxed with our definition of friendship that we’ve forgotten how to act like one? Actual friendship is awkward, taxing, it’s time consuming, and usually inconvenient. Everyone wants lots of friends. But there’s one truth that even Facebook can’t change: having a good friend requires us to act like a good friend.
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Miranda’s ability to lead a Christian club is within a public high school speaks of real confidence. As Christians, we’re supposed to be confident. We’re willing to take risks when God gives opportunities. We must display the ability to bounce back when things don’t work out.
The appeal of a road trip is universal. How often are we drooling over exotic Insta pics? Scrolling through a travel influencer’s page over cold ham sandwiches in the breakroom. Working a boring job, driving the same daily commute, or changing a messy diaper, and then you scroll past a flawless model on the prow of a yacht overlooking the turquoise Mediterranean waters.
So many come from squeaky-clean homes, but live messy lives. They might have a shiplap sign saying, “LIVE, LAUGH, LOVE”- but there’s no trace of it. Chaos isn’t about cleanliness- it’s rooted in the mind.
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I’m not a zombie fan. They gross me out, but I understand the appeal. It’s a cinematically creepy idea: something that you killed... comes back.
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When I was in first grade, I loved school and daydreaming. Not the best combo for a cantankerous 65-year old teacher on her final year before retirement. Ms. Fory was counting down the days like a kid waiting for Christmas.
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Oh boy, it’s grad party season. I’m in a big white circus tent crammed with catered chicken and complete strangers. I wade through the he-hawing relatives, bored children teetering on folding chairs, and a family dog pulling ambrosia salad off the table.
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