Okay, I don’t know about you, but there are some weeks (like this one) that just leave me breathless. I shake my head. Heart-grieved. Stricken. Torn. Enough, already. Sometimes, I want to shout it. (But I don’t. Loud doesn’t necessarily mean brave. Think about it.) Sometimes, a different (notice I didn’t say softer or quieter—just different) approach—is called for. I’m …