Grace for the road

“Ride a horse.” “Hhhrid-ee. A. Harse.” “Ride.” “Hhhride.” “Ride a horse.” “Rid-ee … a … ho-arse.” Sure. When we’d first arrived in their little huddle of tents, they spotted our white...

My hands shook like I was about to play Beethoven’s Pathetique to a stadium full of people. I peeled off to the side. “Eat something.” I peeled a banana, fingers trembling....

After eight fantastic days of trains, chocolate pastries and crazy rain, I put my parents and nephew back on the plane yesterday headed back to the States. We had a great...

John’s family told him he didn’t deserve to live, and when he died, he wouldn’t be buried. It’s all because of what he did with his knife one day – and...