A post-Easter reflection: riding shotgun.

I wrote this seven years ago.

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Hope and I were driving home from work. We had carpooled, her to the pizza place, me to the church. I picked her up, rolled the window down, and headed home.

It was the first warm Spring day we’d traveled together. I handed her the end of a cable. One end was plugged into the radio. The other was for her phone, full of music.

“What do you want to listen to?” she asked.

“The windows are down,” I said.

And soon Ben Rector was singing about su...