If you’re celebrating more but enjoying it less, a few small changes will help you enter into the joy of the season.

When I entered the exam room, I found Erin staring blankly out the window. She looked as if she was in another world. The note from my nurse said only, "Post-holiday depression. Wants to talk."

As I pulled out my stool and had a seat, I greeted her. "Good morning, Erin. What's up?" read more

7:00PM EST 11/30/2005

Can we ever really be free from painful memories? Yes, God can heal you completely.

The small, south Texas town where I grew up has Spanish moss drooping from the trees, winding narrow streets and stifling humidity to which in time I became accustomed. The lazy days of summer brought us a good game of baseball, fishing at the lake or swimming in the Gulf of Mexico. Children filled the placid streets with bikes and roller skates. It was a simpler time, and our town—population 5,000—was a simpler place.

The closeness we shared as friends and family gave us a sense of security. Most everyone knew one another, so there was little need to lock our doors at night or fear walking the streets alone. Nevertheless, in the summer of 1956, I encountered a reason for insecurity: sexual abuse…mine. I was 6 years old. read more

8:00PM EDT 9/30/2006