I dug a grave today. It was a first for me. The call came early this morning from church friends Tracy and Robin saying their beloved beagle, Violet, was going to be put to sleep. Ginger was up and out of the house in minutes. About a half hour later she called and asked me…

Ginger and I have spent the day around the house getting it ready for our new housemate and dear friend, Cherry, who has packed up the plans in her car and is leaving Boston to come and live with us here in the Bull City. In the process of our cleaning, I came across Congregational…

Somewhere in the middle of the afternoon today, I found what I thought would be the opening lines to a poem for my post: when they ask how you’re doingsay something other than tired The line came to me because of how tired I felt and I wished for the wherewithal to say something beyond…

On nights like tonightwhen I come home tiredand try to write, onlyto have my little dog begin bouncing her ballon my feet, begging meto choose her over words,I think about monks and those who cloisterthemselves to meditate,yes, and to write, to getcloser to God, seeing isolation as the way tomake meaning of life.I write in…

By the time most of you read this (actually, by the time I finish writing), it will be April, whose first week holds a sort of harmonic convergence for me. The First of April marks the beginning of National Poetry Month (National GeekFest, as Ginger lovingly calls it); this weekend brings the NCAA Basketball Tournaments…

I would like to sayat the end of the daythat I still had some playbut that would be (somewhat) lying I would like to revealall the things that I feelyou know – keeping it realbut that would be (mostly) sighing So I’m going to bedwith much left unsaidand though that rhymes with deadI intend to…

My friend Gordon has been telling the story of his church in San Antonio at his blog at at the High Calling website. Part of the story is about the pastor who preceded him — a friend of many of us – who was amazingly gifted at offering grace to others that he was not…

can it be on these nightswhen we are tucked in our homecurled up on the couch withdoughnuts of dogs at our feet,the kitchen still holding the aromaof the garlic I roasted this afternoonthe way we are holding life close,with only a couple of lights burning even the clouds have closed us instill – beyond them…

I finished Kathleen Flinn’s The Sharper the Knife, The Less You Cry today and found myself moved by her closing words: As in cooking, life requires that you taste, taste, taste as you go along – you can’t wait until the dish of life is done. In my career, I always looked ahead to the…

I had a few moments to check my blog reader before heading to work and found two quotes from two very different people, Beth and Maggi, both quoting others. I read them in this order. First: Everybody wants to be a rock star, but no one wants to learn the chords. and then: Seeing the…