The opening line of this poem was the closing line of our call to worship this morning, and it gave me the idea for a rather ambitious poetic undertaking over the next couple of months: the Sunday Sonnets. You might think of it as my attempt to have Shakespeare meet the Psalms. Sunday Sonnet #1…
Since the early days of this blog, I’ve kept a counter to see how many folks clicked in, thanks to Stat Counter. I had not used the service long before I found they also had a map showing me where folks were when they clicked. Almost every week, there has been someone in Azerbaijan who…
In the middle of these dog days of summer, several tunes have found their way to me and are worth passing along. Let’s start off with a little blues: Eric Bibb singing “Don’t Let Nobody Drag Your Spirits Down.” Thanks to my friends at eMusic (if you decide to sign up, tell them I sent…
This has been a weekend steeped in stories. Saturday night Ginger and I participated in the Inaugural Triangle Red Sox Nation Whiffle Ball Homerun Derby, which was a fundraiser for the Jimmy Fund, one of the Red Sox primary charities. I took my swings, hit four homers, won two pounds of coffee at the bean…
what were intended to be dayshave become weeks – six, in factand these last few days of my summer find me trying to finish the deckinstead of other august projectsand, of course, I never intended to catch and cut my finger onthe protruding nail, or sweatthrough four (count ‘em) t-shirts one day, cooler and far…
while he is disappearingwe find ourselvesunder the same roofunpacking boxesunderstanding we have changedthe trajectoryof all our lives while he is sittingwe push ourselvesto make him safeand comfortablewithout knowingwhat he seesor what he thinksbehind the blankness while he is herewe will eat togethertake turns stayinghome with himhear the same jokesand wonder what to door so it…
This post finds me in Birmingham packing up my in-laws to come and live with us in Durham. Though I am quite experienced at losing cities, Ginger and her folks have deep roots here in Birmingham, so this week will be as full of grief as it is possibilities. Last week, I was camp pastor…
I heard someoneuse those two wordsjust last week –I can’t remember who –but they came backthis morning as I stepped outof my little hilltopcabin at campunder a cloudycanopy of attention I had yet to speakyet the conversationhad already begunin the languagesof leaves and larksand grasshoppers the gentle gallopof the Great Dane’sgiant greetingthe skies listeningbut not…
It seems this blog has become unintentionally sporadic. I have things I want to say that I have not had time to put on paper; I also have thoughts and feelings I need to sort out a bit before they are loosed on the world. In the greater scope of things, the challenges of these…
By the time I got to worship yesterday morning, I had already run a couple of errands, made sure the DVR was recording the World Cup match, made plans to spend part of the afternoon at the Food Truck Fiesta at the Durham Farmers’ Market Pavilion, and sketched out a bit of a plan for…