One of them asked politely, “Ma’am, what’s with the fifty-four thousand?”
“That’s the amount we prayed for,” I said.

Its December 13, and in eighteen days, the year 2025 will be over.

I looked at the coin in my hand — and never felt so poor in my entire life.

Literally, it just means your car is out of gas, and it won’t work.

I contemplate on Christ’s painful walk toward a hill called Golgotha as I do my Saturday morning hike on this place called Limeridge.