There’s an old joke about a preacher standing up one Sunday and saying, “Today we are going to confess our sins to one another and find forgiveness.” Members of the congregation began to stand, tentatively at first, and tell their secrets. The pastor would respond, “Thank you. You have
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I’ve been staring at the screen for some time this evening because I feel like I have nothing new to say, or at least nothing new to say that’s not about our move. Most all of my thought and energy of late has been about me: how I
When Ginger and I moved to Boston in August of 1990, we had been married four months. Now, five months shy of our eighteenth anniversary, we are (we verbalized as we drove into the city today) leaving home. We wondered aloud how we will learn to “let go” of this
Here are the pictures of the Red Sox celebration in Boston today. I only had my camera phone, so the quality isn't great and I didn't get some shots, but here is our day in images (and a few words). We rode in on the train,
Some time this summer, as it became apparent that the Red Sox had an amazing team, I said to Ginger, “Wouldn’t it be great if the Sox won the World Series as we were leaving New England.” Last night, as you may have heard, they obliged. For the second
This has been a week. Sunday was our last day at the Marshfield church, Tuesday I gave my notice at the restaurant (effective Nov. 11), Wednesday and Thursday we were in Durham looking for a house (and found one to rent, for now), and then last night I left work
“The jewelery box lid is broken.” “I can fix it,” I told her, years ago. I can fix it. I just haven’t done so. The top of the box is a painting of Boston Common on a snowy day in another time, people walking across the park at twilight.
There’s an old Seinfeld episode (I guess they’re all old now) where George keeps trying to figure out what to do after he tells a joke in a meeting. As soon as people start laughing, all he can think about is he doesn’t know what to do
Yesterday I had my final meeting with my spiritual director, Ken, who is also a dear friend and a lover of poetry. We shared poems as a part of our litany of farewell; I share some of them, now, with you. The Layers I have walked through many lives, some
I’ve had my share of days when I wondered why I was on the planet; Sunday was not one of them. The wonderful folks at our church here in Marshfield and several other friends gathered to remember what our years here together have meant and to wish Ginger and
I am one who walks along the shore looking for answers and sea glass. If it were not for the cleansing tides, the beach would be a well-worn path, but twice a day the waves come and wash away my searches and sins and lay them at someone else’s
I’m an NPR nerd. Several years ago, when we were on a mission trip to Philadelphia, we were walking to see the Liberty Bell and passed the building that houses WHYY. “That’s where Terry Gross is,” I exclaimed. Then I laughed at myself. Sometimes as I drive, I