The spirit likes to dress up like this: ten fingers, ten toes . . .(Mary Oliver, “Poem”) My father-in-law, Reuben Brasher, would have been eighty-one tomorrow; Wednesday marks eight weeks since he died. I miss him. poem, too Peace, Milton
Look wherever you can find the information and you will find that our Sunday morning service at Pilgrim United Church of Christ begins at 10:30. Though it is not written down anywhere, most everyone in the room knows the service ends at 11:30, which is when it is
Tomorrow I will play the prophet for the second time this Advent, and for something like the twentieth Advent in a row. Since our church follows the Common Lectionary (does that mean there’s an “uncommon” one?), the scripture passages ascribed to each Sunday follow a three year cycle. This
it began as a ploy to get them to finish their vocabulary who could blame me on a high school friday afternoon “if you finish your assignment we’ll go to caribou” – they made quick work of exercises already past due and we walked across the parking lot to our
This afternoon, I went with our math teacher and the twelve kids that make up our little high school to a machine shop which is owned by the parents of one of the students. The teacher wanted the kids to go so they could see that math gets used in
public instruction as I drove yesterday to the Department of Public Instruction I imagined a building filled with finger-pointing people telling other people what to do and how to do it I was going to be told what I needed to do to get my state teacher’s license the
Yesterday morning marked the first time in several days that I had to answer my five o’clock alarm telling me it was time to get ready for school. Gracie, our middle Schnauzer, was grateful for the return to routine because it meant she got to eat earlier and it
I left my notes for my post sitting on my desk at school this afternoon as I was heading for the second shift at the computer store. I came home tonight to discover these words from Nate Klug, a new poet to me and a fellow UCCer. Advent In the
As I sat down tonight to begin writing this Advent Journal, I decided to go back and read what I had written as my first Advent entry over the previous five years. In my 2006 post, I found this poem by Barbara Crooker: In the Middle of a life that&
Ben and Scott Cunningham are wonderful songwriters and musicians, and awesome people as well. They are also my nephews. As a band, they call themselves The Olive Tree and they have just released a new collection (am I still allowed to call it an album?) that they offer as a
in all our living and in all our dying we belong to God, we belong to God “Pues Si Vivimos,” Mexican folk hymn if the night didn’t lie in the darkness then the daylight will be hard to find Lyle Lovett there are few things . . . . . . as large as emptiness
there is no place where I walk where someone has not walked no conversation I might have that’s not already talked what is new in my big world is mostly new to me that those who have come before have kindly let me see as if it were the