Abigail Morris

I do the best I can. Sometimes that doesn't add up to a hill of beans. Other days, it's a feat worth admiring. I've watched my compass turn ninety degrees left, then one hundred eighty right. How much did I sleep? What did I eat? Am I hydrated? How is my mental health? What's my stress level? Who's in my corner? My circle? My bed? Do I like my job? How much am I working? How's my relationship with my daughter, my sister, my mother, my father, my brother? How is my daughter? How are her...

Some of my earliest memories as a child weren't about toys or cartoons. They were about longing. I remember desperately wanting to speak with Jesus. I wanted to see beyond what everyone else could see. I wanted to communicate with the unseen world, to experience something sacred, something deeper than everyday life. Looking back now, I realize I wasn't just searching for God. I was searching for connection. Not casual conversation. Not friendships. Not belonging to a group. I was searching...

I have been lucky. For almost three years, I have not lived inside intense stress. The kind that lives in your muscles, your gut, your jaw. The kind that never really lets you rest. This past week reminded me why personal boundaries are not optional. I recently started a job in child welfare. I was just handed my caseload about two weeks ago. The job description and workload are realistically enough for two full‑time people. There is no way to do what is expected on each case, plus all the...