
Our Days Are Numbered
The swifts are leaving English skies. It’s a herald, a loss. The days may still be warm but brown leaves begin to scatter the parks.

The swifts are leaving English skies. It’s a herald, a loss. The days may still be warm but brown leaves begin to scatter the parks.

I am at my desk preparing to share our testimony with a group of Christian women, and I am wary of a very specific trap: