When God Doesn’t Heal

Momma’s Hands

I remember when my momma’s hands stopped working—those perfectly moisturized hands that intimately knew the aches and pains of manual labor. Those firm yet gentle hands gripping mine, season after season, giving me the stability I needed to stand and eventually walk through this life. The hands that would whoop my butt when I neededContinue reading “Momma’s Hands”