Rolling my carry-on beside me, I step off the ramp into the airport. It’s morning in Amsterdam. I pause to get my bearings then find my way to Starbucks. I spy my favorite lounge just beyond it. Misty morning light casts a soft haze through the fl...

Living a life outside of my passport country and culture, I am daily faced with an aching desire to be known: my name, my character, my history, my dreams, and my heart. I do not realize the scope of my grief of not being known until I am given gl...

If you could be remembered for one thing, what would it be? Would it be prayer, visiting the sick, feeding the hungry, adopting the orphans? If a brief sentence were to be written down on your tombstone, what would it say?

“But what about boundaries?”