when we lived by the ocean I learned to tell time by the tides (I guess I should say I couldn’t tell time a thing — or keep it) there was no second hand . . . no sense of calendar — just the giving and taking away of the beach twice a day: a…
At the end of the last century, Ron Howard directed a movie called “Ed” that tried to take a look at the preposterous idea that people would watch a TV show that was simply filming someone’s everyday life. I don’t know that even Howard understood how prophetic he was, or perhaps even suggestive. One of…
in the story of america war is the primary metaphor we see life as a battle conquest as a mission we’re number one, remember? we live our lives locked and loaded, ready for battle our words are bullets intent on doing damage in the name of faith and freedom: we must defend our…
As the son of my father, I love old hymns and gospel music. I’ve done my best to emulate is ability to sing every hymn in worship without having to open a book. One of the results of growing up with those songs in my head and heart is I learned to both love and…
Down all my decembers I have sung about bleak midwinters this is the first I remember snow falling in Bethlehem — even as I sit in the sunshine of a sixty degree afternoon. The weather of my heart has seen mostly grey days of late; in the fatiguing fog of grief I find comfort…
I love bathrobe shepherds. For all the pageants and grand tellings, there’s something about our kids in wonderfully makeshift costumes gathering together around the manger at the front of the church that tells the story best of all. I mean that last sentence with as little sentimentality as possible. They get it right, as they…
I’ve spent another hour or two this evening sitting my writing spot in our house trying to find words to all that is swirling around inside. For a fair part of the time I have been listening to some of the songs that make up the soundtrack of my life. Similar to last night, I…
The last couple of days have left me overwhelmed by and grateful for all of the affection and attention that has come my way. I am a fortunate man. Sitting tonight in the upstairs room that is my “office” and going through the pockets of my mind trying to find words to describe at least…
the road between here and there is familiar; we’ve taken it so many times the car could drive itself, as they say — we’ve come this way so often I no longer think in the chapter and verse of exit signs . . . instead, I mark our progress by landmarks — mostly song, food,…
I’ve been sitting here for an hour or so trying to figure out what to write today. I’ve finally decided to just sing a long. Peace Milton