We gathered this morning in our church, along with Christians around the world, to observe the first Sunday of Advent, our intentional, patient walk to the birth of Jesus. Our tradition on this day is a service called “The Hanging of the Greens” (needless to say, we are not alone) where we decorate the sanctuary…
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 walked tonight at sunset just in time to see the fading sun reach across town for an old building and bask it in the splendor of what was left undone home now my kitchen smells like that sunset full of sorrow and stories while the singer reaches for what is as true as…
a year ago, this room was filled with reclaimed lumber and pregnant dreams; now I sit in my spot, trying to give birth to new ideas as though I have always come here. the path from then to now is not mapped, but discovered — looking back into the woods of hope and friendship, of…
Several years ago, Thanksgiving became synonymous with pie at our house. The week before I go on a pie baking frenzy and the results are shared throughout the neighborhood, as well as around our table. Here are a few of the recipes that have become keepers over the years. I’ll start with my mother’s pie…
Though we have still have a few days before the feast, I thought I would point to a few recipes that have served me well in the past. Many of them will make a repeat appearance this year. Follow the links to the recipes. Pimento cheese stuffed sweet potatoes Roasted red curry carrots Green bean…
If you have followed this blog for very long, you have heard me make reference to my songwriting days with my friend, Billy Crockett. This week, his wife Dodee posted a video of him singing what is perhaps my favorite song we wrote together. The idea grew out of our reading Paul Bowles’ amazing novel…
One of the most enduring stories in scripture, for me, comes from Joshua 4, where Joshua is explaining to the people how they were to mark what had happened in their lives. When the entire nation had finished crossing over the Jordan, the Lord said to Joshua: “Select twelve men from the people, one from…
forty-seven octobers ago i was eleven dad was thirty-nine and we lived in a shotgun apartment for missionaries who had come home from the field . . . I didn’t know much about america, but I loved the boston red sox though we had never been to boston in the fall and I was…
One of my dad’s favorite songs was “You Never Even Call Me By My Name,” which was written by John Prine and Steve Goodman and most famously recorded by David Allen Coe. I don’t know the story of how my dad came to find the song, much less love it, but during some of his…