I was stuck in a middle seat with screaming babies (yes, there were at least two for most of the flight) and a toddler who passed the three hour flight by repeatedly kicking the back of my seat and banging on the tray. Not an ideal situation for productive work on this flight from Denver to New York. So I pulled out my book and settled in the the ride. And God met me there in the combination of chaos and pandemonium with a book whose author apparently knew precisely what I was going through. Wisdom and comfort sprung off the page.
So grateful for writers who share their journey so the rest of us don't feel quite so alone.