the wildflower patch is comingback for an encore performanceafter last year’s inaugural run right now everything is a verdantvibrant and bloomless array ofweeds and flowers, best I can tell so I hesitate to pull anythingup by the roots because I justmight be pulling up wildflowers from the highways of my youth I remember fields of…
Because Easter is a moveable feast, our twenty-first wedding anniversary falls on Maundy Thursday. So we celebrated tonight. The Playmakers Repertory Company at UNC is doing a production of Big River, a musical telling of the adventures of Huckleberry Finn. The musical was on Broadway in the mid-eighties. The songs were written by the King…
We drove to Hampton, Virginia Sunday after church to surprise our friend Charles who turns fifty tomorrow. We walked into their house around suppertime, ate, and then sat around the table talking as old friends do. Our conversation turned to music and then to the music we grew up on, which is gospel. Thanks to…
This Sunday is one with two faces,from shouts of hosanna to curses,and which emphasis that one placesor whether one reads all the verses that take Jesus from palms to Passionand us from fanfare to forgiveness.We move in liturgical fashionto do all we can to bear witness to a love that will not let us go,even…
I’ve spent the last three days volunteering with the Full Frame Documentary Festival, one of the highlights of the Durham calendar and the largest documentary film festival in the world. I was assigned to the Artist Hospitality Team whose job it was to take the film makers and subjects of the documentaries to and from…
perhaps this could be seenas meeting the minimumrequirement of my promise . . . I far exceeded, however,my quota for laughter,baseball, and my spirit soared like a fly ballin the thin night air . . .forgive me if I am a man of few words Peace,Milton
Marco Werman, the anchor for The World, said, “texted” in a sentence as the past tense of the verb “to text.” Though I’ve come to terms with the transition “text” has made form noun to verb (notice I didn’t say, “transitioned”), I’ve struggled with how to speak of texting in the past tense. It rolls…
there are some nightswhen the sky turnsthe color of friendshipand fades into the crispdarkness of gratitude we ate with friendsdrank and talked as welland then walked awaydropping bit of hopelike breadcrumbs along the sidewalksand silent porchesfinding our way hometo our porch lightour beacon of belonging summer will comeand winter will followand footprints will fadebut not…
If you haven’t heard, Rob Bell has written a book. I haven’t read it, but he apparently has a lot of nerve claiming God loves everyone. What I have read are any number of blog posts, articles, and straight out rants claiming that Bell’s argument that Hell might not exist is not just wrong but…
One of the signatures of my life are pockets of unfinished things. I have shelves of unfinished books, stacks of papers to be gone through, any number of unfinished household projects, and – thanks to an attempt, at least, to finish unpacking one corner of the guest room in our house – a folder of…