When God Speaks in a Traffic Jam
It was 2005. I was stuck in traffic on a highway in New England, at one of the lowest points of my life.
I had just spent years developing a new treatment for oppositional defiant children — and it worked. Leaders in the field had tested it and recommended it. But there was a piece missing that I couldn't solve: I could treat the defiance, but I couldn't restore the parent-child trust. Not without months and months of sessions. The bond that had been broken between parent and child — I couldn't find a fast way to rebuild it.
Then came a life crisis that took everything from me. I lost it all. I was just getting back on my feet, barely standing, driving through traffic, and I wasn't praying so much as I was broken open.
Then something happened that I still struggle to put into words — not because it's vague, but because it's so vivid that language feels small next to it.
When Your Marriage Feels Like a Business Partnership — And You Miss Being in Love
They sat on opposite ends of my couch — not angry, not fighting, just... distant. Like two business partners reviewing quarterly results.
"We don't fight," she said, as if that should be good news. "We're a great team. The kids are fed, the bills are paid, the schedule works."
He nodded. "We're efficient."
"So what's the problem?" I asked.
She looked at the floor. He looked at the wall. Neither looked at each other.
"I miss him," she said quietly. "He's right there, and I miss him."