By Amanda Cleary Eastep The Small boys lived next door to us in the “new subdivision,” one round block of bi-levels and tri-levels on the outskirts of a small farm town. In the summer, all of us children scattered, bike wheels and skinny legs carrying us all the way to the other side of the […]
I’ve been oddly obsessed with the concept of “purpose” since I was a kid. I had what I would call an “encounter” with God at about the age of nine, and I was convinced that when God “called” you, that meant you had to be a missionary to cannibals. Cannibals eat people. So I just lay in my bed and balled my eyes out.
My grandmother never imagined when she was sewing the curtains out of the same sunflower- patterned sheets that covered my bed in her spare room that God would see them.