by Nan Jones @NanJonesAuthor The tractor heaved across the rocky field pulling its plow. Sharp blades rolled and spun across the fallow ground turning and churning and making all things new. The soil once hardened
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I wouldn’t say I’m not a morning person, but when I wake up, I need a few minutes. I prefer my trip from the silence of sleep to the loudness of day to be a
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by Nan Jones @NanJonesAuthor Broken. Defeated. A shell of a man. That’s all that’s left of the man I loved for thirty-one years, partnered with in ministry … raised a family. That’s all that’s left.
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