The year is 2002, and I’m in middle school. The girls seem freakishly tall and wear a lot of eyeshadow. The boys are mostly obsessed with video games. In youth group, they split us up sometimes.
Making New Year’s resolutions is one of my favorite traditions of the holiday season. “What’s your New Year’s resolution?” is an unavoidable question asked of friends, family, and coworkers alike this time of year.
I don’t know about you, but when it gets this close to Christmas, I often look at the tinsel, the sparkling lights, and the crowded stores and wonder if I should be engaging in all the hype.
During college, I helped lead our campus ministry. One time, I got into an argument with one of my co-leaders. Somehow I ended up losing my cool and yelling at her.
I used to think Thanksgiving was cute, like little handprint turkey art projects from third graders. Thanksgiving was mildly entertaining, like whatever football game is on TV when you fall asleep after too much turkey.
You may be the type of person who hears the word “vegan” and turns away with a scoff and a roll of the eyes. That’s certainly how I used to respond before I began seriously considering the vegan* way of life.
August 19, 2013, began like any other Monday at Uptown Baptist Church in Chicago, USA. As usual, I handled routine administrative tasks and worked on my sermon for the evening service at our soup kitchen ministry. The church employees were in the office working and chatting. No one knew it would become a day marked by tragedy.