Breakfast begins right after the dinner dishes are done. After the dishwasher is started, I set up my coffee to drip, automatically, at 7:25 am and mix together breakfast.
Read MoreIn the beginning was the Word... In the beginning, God said let there be…What does it mean to create?
Read MoreThe Feast of All Saints is an invitation to remember. Not just a fond reminiscence, but “a deeper, slower kind of remembering; it means remembering as a searching and finding.” (Buechner, A Crazy, Holy Grace, 60)
Read MoreThe Feast of All Saints is an invitation to remember. Not just a fond reminiscence, but “a deeper, slower kind of remembering; it means remembering as a searching and finding.” (Buechner, A Crazy, Holy Grace, 60)
Read MoreOh God of all the Saints, We come to you as a people not simply as individuals. We gather together and pray to you as a community of Saints, both living and in glory.
Read MoreThe Feast of All Saints is celebrated on the first day of November. It is a day that we remember. Today I am remembering Frederick Buechner.
Read MoreMy daughter and I were on a walk today when she gasped and pointed with a breathless, “Look at that one!”
Read MoreFor the last several weeks, we have been taking a stroll through what it means to live rooted in grace when life throws difficult dialogue in our paths.
Read MoreI have no favorite children, but I do have beloved words. Perhaps, apparently, generative, credulous, and meticulous are some of my favorites.
Read MoreA solipsist is one who believes that theirs is the only real experience. All the other kids on the playground are fabricated by the solipsist’s mind to fill out the landscape.
Read MoreThe story of the beginning of the Hebrew people is two-fold. First there is a sweeping poem about vast spinning chaos called into verdant life, beginning, not with the production of day, but with the restful, tucked-in-ness of night.
Read MoreCommunity is difficult. People hurt. Flying over the Continental US this summer, I thought about all the lives I was passing over.
Read MoreI am sitting in an old auditorium. Stark white walls set the black-robed chairs in stark relief. The stage, which I am facing from a raised viewpoint in the back, is a darkened canvas, surrounded on three sides by a decorative frame.
Read MoreFrom my point of view the world has no horizon, a person is known by her feet, the road is a slow rolling river of dust.
Read MoreWhen I met her, she was sitting in a rocking chair on a front stoop just big enough for her chair, a pot of red geraniums, a mat that did not say welcome, and me.
Read MoreHere are the things I need to be ready: Boots that fit, Socks that give the boots a little room for error…
Read MoreHer hands speak. The skin is smooth, even at her age, polished by time and care.
Read MoreEmpty. The chamber in front of me was as empty as anything ever has been.
Read MoreShe slumped, arms crossed under her forehead, leaning on the lip of the water vessel.
Read MoreThe Coventry Carol is a song of lament both gentle and grotesque. The tune, The French Carol, is sad but soothing.
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