You can stand in the middle of a street and let the drops fall on you and feel refreshed. It's like God's little sprinkler.

Suddenly, I can't move. I can't speak. I am set in stone, but it's a glorious chiseled sort of stone.

So yeah, maybe this will be the rest of our lives. Pot roast and Diet Cokes and my parents making eyes at each other. As for those slaps and punches and hateful words, we'll just sweep those under the rug or wherever they can go.

I think of this girl, this bright light coming from such a dark place. I know that the things she believes about God and the Bible and hope and all that are very real to her. They're not nice sayings on Twitter just to fill a box. They're the things she truly believes.I'm not sure I'm ready to rejoice, and I'm not quite ready to pray.The cool thing is that Marvel knows this. She knows this and doesn't seem to mind.

Home should never be dark or full of shadows and secrets. It should be bright and full of open doors. It should be full of stories wanting to be told.

There are a thousand beautiful things behind that look. A marvelous sort of ache that only a few people know about. Some miraculous sort of sorrow she's managed to walk away from.