I've been quiet here for the last several days because we have been saying goodbye to my father-in-law, Reuben Brasher, who has been living with us for the last fourteen months as his Alzheimer's made him disappear and who crossed over Wednesday afternoon. We
on nights like this I gaze into the night-sky to see a sky filled with desk lamps in the dark casting light for one tired poet after another milky ways of metaphors supernovas of near misses swirling star-clouds of what matters most Peace, Milton
A couple of Sundays have passed since Ginger preached on the parable about the workers who get hired at various times during the day and then all get paid the same at quitting time (Matthew 20:1-16). It’s a bothersome parable on its own terms, made even more
Yesterday was my best friend’s birthday. Burt Burleson and I met at Baylor some thirty-five years ago this month. He was a freshman and I was a junior. I don’t remember the exact circumstance nor can I recall our days of getting acquainted; all I remember is
the freeway of love – that’s what we’ve called it since the first week we moved here and began navigating life in our new city and we smiled when traffic reports of snarls and slow downs brought back memories of route 3 and real traffic four years on I
Tuesday morning I went to work late so I could cook breakfast for a meeting with Clergy Beyond Borders who were meeting at our church as a part of their national tour. I made Blackberry French Toast and Figs Stuffed with Goat Cheese. And then I sat down to eat
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I know. Every blogger in America is working on something to say as we near the anniversary of September 11, 2001. I remember that crystal blue Tuesday morning as Ginger and I drove up the Southeast Expressway from Marshfield heading into Boston for a day of appointments. I remember the
“The Imagination of Grace” A Sermon for Pilgrim United Church of Christ, Durham by Milton Brasher-Cunningham Exodus 3:1-15; Romans 12:9-21 Perhaps one of the reasons I like stories about Moses is he was as rootless as I am. He was born of a Hebrew mother
Last weekend, the big event in our neighborhood of Old North Durham was a birthday party. Fullsteam Brewery turned one. For those of you not fortunate enough to live close enough to know why the date matters so to those of here in Durham, let me explain why its presence
The evening began with a conversation – long distance, back when that mattered, between Ginger and me. She was in Birmingham visiting her family; I was in Fort Worth. We had been dating about eight months and both knew we were on a crash course for each other. Somewhere in our
“The presence of your absence bothers me,” begins an old Pierce Pettis song. I’ve sung the lyric both out loud and in my head for several days now as I go deeper into Ginger’s two week pilgrimage to Israel and Palestine that left me here to tend to
I know. I haven't posted in a while. OK, almost a month. I decided I would sing my way back in -- that is, I would sing along. The tone for this collection was set by Eric Folkerth, who pointed me to Eric Schwartz. Listen and enjoy the soulfulness.