I’ve spent another afternoon
crossing thresholds
opening doors
picturing my furniture
in unfamiliar rooms
homes don’t change hands
without groaning
even breaking
I could hear the hurt
when I stood still
some houses hide their scars
under fresh paint
refinished floors
others are open wounds
crying for attention
I hope they understand
I’m a hunter
who is hungry
to find the right house
and come home
Peace,
Milton
It’s getting down to crunch time in the baseball season, which means it doesn’t take much for my sermon to intersect with the Red Sox. Here’s what I said on Sunday. ________________________________ In the fall of 2004, I was the Associate Pastor of the First Congregational Church of
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Last week’s lectionary passage is one of my favorites. Here’s what I had to say on Sunday. __________________________ Right after Ginger and I got back from our trip to Durham last month, we noticed a plant that had sprung up along our back fence line. It was not there
I think this is the first time that thinking about prayer took me to both Robert Frost and ice hockey. Here’s my sermon for this week. ____________________________ My twelfth grade English teacher Ms. Morse is responsible, in part, for my love of poetry—particularly the poems of Robert Frost. When