practice
practice
I spent the evening
singing harmony
with a pick-up gospel choir—
songs I didn’t know
parts I didn’t know
offering me the
gentle reminder
that listening comes first,
then you sing.
Peace,
Milton
practice
I spent the evening
singing harmony
with a pick-up gospel choir—
songs I didn’t know
parts I didn’t know
offering me the
gentle reminder
that listening comes first,
then you sing.
Peace,
Milton
we drove home at dusk from our day of errands and dreaming over coffee the sunset was hidden by the foggy veil that showed us only enough road to to keep us moving along every turn of the tires pushed back the curtain enough for another step as we talked about what we had to…
just a thought after a supper that took a turn they didn’t understand and an arrest that left them lost we do well to remember not one of them said “I’ll see you Sunday” Peace, MIlton
Tonight, as I went on a relatively futile search for words of my own to share, I found some words by others I am going to borrow tonight. These are not easy poems because they name grief quite well, and in that have offered me comfort. All three of them were new to me. The…
I would love to tell you I had an epiphany in the middle of lent: an earth-shattering, horizon-bending, blaze of understanding and insight that changed everything for me. My day, however, spelled out in much smaller steps, turns of phrase, incremental graces: a call from a friend, homemade marinara, sunshine on my lunch hour. My…
chowder head I think coincidence and soup are synonyms both words mean to fall together it started with bacon that’s when I knew we were having chowder for supper I found potatoes and chopped clams even as I grabbed items as though I was gathering props for improv giving myself options I couldn’t see yet…
keepsake there are some nights when the sky turns the color of friendship and fades into the crisp darkness of gratitude friends old and new around our table shared food and stories love and laughter as though there was enough for all we’ve washed the dishes saved the leftovers and turned out the lights except…
That’s got to be the first commandment in preaching: listening comes first.
It certainly has a nice ring to it! [reminds me of a poem I wrote once — one of the 5 or 6 that *I* remember as being quite good, even to my over-analytical extra-critical self-deprecating Self — that started out with “if feelings were first/ then who [& how?] did the naming come about?/ & who/ was there/ to listen to/ the names?”
You’ve been on my mind quite a bit lately, Milton. I surely miss the times we found to hang out, and I would rejoice to spend some time with you, as our time together always felt to me like BOTH of us walked away with our spirits lifted, or (at the least) we parted ways a little lighter confident that our friendship blossomed in the knowledge that we tried to take some of each other’s burden. I sense that you would welcome any “burden carrying” that your friends could arrange — wish I could be there for you, ol’ buddy.
Just know that there’s at least one Atlanta-based “best read line cook I know” who is periodically praying for you, always with a smile on my face.
Much love,
Mitch
Best description of discernment…ever. May I use it with attribution?
Of course.