Today is Steve Earle’s birthday. I’ve been listening to his songs all day, which is not so different from many other days, just more purposed. I love both his music and his story: he is a living testament to hope and redemption. One of my favorite tunes is
if I had a nickel for every song written about how hard life is out on the road singing I’d have enough to buy the record and sing along with the self-indulgence and understand how the beat of life (kick-drum-karma?) molds a melody out of misery
On Tuesday, December 27, 2005, I began writing this blog with these words: I've been staring at the "posting" screen for several days now trying to figure out how to join the world of food bloggers. Since I'm writing from a Mac and I
fifty six christmases and it matters more than ever that Christ is born again in the carols round the tree in the sharing of meals in the gift-wrapped bits of love in the quiet streets of the city in the empty chair at the table in the ache of
we have several mangers on our mantle made of materials from ‘round the world each a collection of the usual suspects along with a contingent of livestock but there’s no food the magi made the effort to bring incense and offerings, but not one covered dish made the journey
here’s how love comes to town on the back of a donkey in the womb of a teenager to a sleepy little town without a decent hotel on the smile of a friend in the heart of a stranger who shares your grief and makes room for it on
On this longest night, we gathered in our church sanctuary for our annual “Blue Christmas” service, which is designed to offer sanctuary to those who are grieving in the midst of the festivities, no matter what the loss. Ginger had candles across the altar at the front of the church,
penultimate on this tuesday night we sat around the table as though we had all the night we wanted to eat and drink and laugh and talk and hope we even had time for pie tomorrow night our prodigal planet will wander as far as it ever does from the
a midnight clear angels bending near the earth peaceful wings unfurled there in a manger little lord Jesus laid down cattle are lowing angels heard on high and the mountains in reply gloria Deo wander as wonder poor orn’ry people like you and like me (not I) Peace, Milton
Two years ago today, my good friend David Gentiles died. Losing someone that close brought new feelings for me. Yesterday marked nine weeks since we buried my father-in-law, who was the first of our parents to die. The grief of these days is new to me, but as
I’ve been thinking about the innkeeper actually all of those in Bethlehem who have taken a bad rap over two millennia for not making room as if no vacancy is some sort of sin it was after all Jesus being born did they not know did they not see
I love to tell the story for those who know it best seem hungering and thirsting to hear it like the rest . . . We took our high school kids on a field trip to High Point, North Carolina to see a production of “A Christmas Carol” today. The 10 a. m.