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Christmas was gone before they got to the manger, camels and servants grumbling. “We saw his star in the east,” they said. Mary wondered why a sign from God didn’t get them there on time for the birth. “You missed the angel choir,” she replied. They knelt before the
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My friends, Burt and Julie, are celebrating the wedding of their son tomorrow. Several years ago, I wrote this poem remembering the birth of their daughter. Today seems a good day to look at it again. Some time after seminary my best friend, Burt, got married; then a few more
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This story is not new, but then neither are the feelings it names. Thanks for making the journey with me this Advent. A Faraway Christmas by Milton Brasher-Cunningham As we gather together on this Silent Night, To sing ‘round the tree in the soft candlelight, From a Faraway Christmas, from
advent journal
I spent a huge chunk of the day working on my book. The time was one of my birthday gifts from Ginger. As I sat writing about home, I realized once again how much I have come to love Durham and the people who make it a wonderful city. Over
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Last weekend I said something to Ginger about Thursday Night Dinner and she said, “We aren’t having dinner this week.” Knowing it was my birthday eve and knowing her penchant for birthday surprises, I took her statement at face value. i spent the day writing and came home to
advent journal
Somewhere in the night I woke to remember I had not written. The day was full. Ginger and Rachel were driving back from the funerals in Birmingham, I cooked lunch for our UCC clergy group (as I do the first Thursday of every month), other food to deliver, and we
advent journal
Mark Strand died this week. He was a poet, even a former U. S. Poet Laureate. In the middle of the violence that makes up our world, it feels worthwhile to say thanks for the life and words of a poet who held a sense of appropriate insignificance with grace;
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Fifty years ago today, I stood with a stadium filled with excited people to observe the birth of a new nation: Northern Rhodesia, a British colony, became Zambia, a free country. We had practiced the new national anthem for months in school, learned about the new currency. We were ready.
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This has been an important week in North Carolina, and our church has been at the center of things here in Durham. Here is a story that ran on our local NPR station, WUNC. Peace, Milton
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I wish you could have been with me this weekend. It was end-of-summer-trying-to-be-fall weather in our little City of Encouragement, and it was the thirtieth North Carolina Pride Festival, which Durham has hosted for all three decades. One of the roles our church plays in the fe stivities is to
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I am old enough to remember when it was fun to fly, which, of course, makes me old. The experience of getting in and out of an airport, much less the time spent on board the airplane have not been very enjoyable for a long, long time. The “legacy carriers,
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My friend John moved to Okinawa for a year. He’s on an academic sabbatical. He is also a master meat smoker. When he left he gave me a whole frozen packer brisket, ready for me to try my hand at smoking it. My friend Roberto, who owns Old Havana