it is the morning
of the next day --
I have come down-
stairs to the kitchen
to make coffee . . .
the room still
smells of pork chops
and laughter;
the empty glasses --
both wine and water --
stand like a skyline
on the old farm table
that soaked it all in . . .
we gathered for
no other reason
than to gather,
made a memory
for the sake of
remembering,
which is what I'm
doing as I sit alone
with my coffee
and the skyline
and our little grey
dog sniffs the floor
looking for leftovers.
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