A weedy kind of love

Psalm 18:1 I love You, O Lord, my strength. As the only child of a horticulture professor father completely smitten with his vegetable garden, I learned early on all about weeds. I learned that: weeds were not our friends; rabbits and squirrels would eat anything but them; and it was my job to hoe orContinue reading “A weedy kind of love”