Redemption in the Empty Car Seat
Nineteen years ago today, I returned home from the hospital without my daughter. Her empty car seat seemed to mock me from Columbia to Greenville, South Carolina — and had I listened to the voice of the enemy for the duration of that trip, I’d have returned home bitter. Instead, I crossed that threshold broken. And I believe there’s beauty in brokenness, because it’s there that we are most truly held...
