advent journal: who comes this night . . .
Thanks for making the journey with me this Advent season. The night is far spent; the day is at hand. I am grateful for all the love that surrounds me. I let James Taylor sing us to sleep.
Peace
Milton
Thanks for making the journey with me this Advent season. The night is far spent; the day is at hand. I am grateful for all the love that surrounds me. I let James Taylor sing us to sleep.
Peace
Milton
resounding there is no such thing as silence in the calm of any quiet you can hear hearts breaking dreams dying thanks giving sadness sounding hope harbinging losses mounting faith enduring love outlasting grief weighing grace pervading hands holding listen closely listen . . . for your name your name mine, too Peace, Milton
On my train ride to Grand Central Station, the penultimate stop is Harlem/125th Street. Once the doors close, it takes about fifteen minutes to go the last eighty blocks to the terminal on 42nd Street. The closer we get, the slower the train goes. Passengers get up, put on coats, and line up in front…
The fog was so thick on the ride into New Haven this morning I felt like I was on a ghost train. Between Guilford and Branford, the train runs through the marshes and right along the coastline. Most mornings, I can look out across Long Island Sound; today, our carriage was wrapped in the soft…
breakfast potatoes in our favorite breakfast joint on the way home from the hospital for the first time in a long time I heard the sound of one chef chopping the rhythm of the knife beating in my new ear a sound my brain knows by heart when I caught his eye I asked, “making…
As Advent begins, I wonder how Christ can be born again in our time and in our culture. Yet Luke starts his story by noting that Quirinius was governor of Syria, and he made Mary and Joseph go to Bethlehem because Augustus declared a change in the tax plan. They were surrounded by wars and…
At certain intersections of my life I have been aware of a clear memory of my father at my age. When I turned forty-one, I could remember Dad at that age because of one the persistent fragments of memory was the birthday card I wrote for him that year: life begins at forty at least…
Thank you, Milton. Merry Christmas to you, Ginger and your mothers. Love, Claud and Kelly.
Thank you, Milton. An especially beautiful “Merry Christmas.” Love and peace to you and Ginger.
Merry Christmas to y’all. Thanks for sharing one of my favorite Christmas music moments – JT is amazing, eh? Take care, and give the puppies a scratch from me.