It’s Christmas Eve, and maybe your mind is on a half-dozen, last-minute preparations for a family gathering: Who will show? Did I cook or overcook the turkey? Will Uncle George like the cologne we got him, and will Aunt Alice’s little Tommy throw another hissy fit if he has to behave for more that 27 …
I let my eyes rest a while on each person gathered in the room, pondering the roads that had brought them to that warm and inviting home that night. We were laughing, some more raucously than others, as you might expect at a Christmas party. This one was with my wife’s small group bible study. …
It had seemed like a long week for no particular reason. The days had no extras—like weddings or funerals—no one in code blue, no families in distress, no turmoil in the church house: all had been quiet on every front. And that’s when I am the most vulnerable to the slow burn, simmering over there …
I feel sad for Thanksgiving, passed over as it seems to be each year, lost somewhere between Halloween and Christmas, shuffled beneath the feet of trick or treaters, who like actors between scenes, change from ghost and goblin costumes to shopping attire in their mad rush to get back on stage for Black Friday. My …
I walked into the church kitchen where two faithful volunteers were preparing our Wednesday night church supper. Kitchen banter, the mixed aromas of different foods cooking, and the anticipation of fellowship, are like an open window bringing fresh air to my day. “What’s going on?” I ask, to begin our conversation. “I’m on my way …