Resurrections
I collect stones, and now also beach glass, as we walk with our dog along the lake. When we moved to Evanston I jettisoned many pounds of rocks from other places—Berkeley, Big Sur, Provincetown, Ferry Beach, Star Island—and kept only a few. I forget where most have come from, but when I look at them and hold them, I cherish the sense of history and pleasure emanating from the colors and textures of their faces.
Love and Death
Although I have delivered some thousand sermons on almost as many discrete topics, one way or another each circles back to a single theme. This tendency, I’m told, is not uncommon. Every minister worth his or her salt has one great sermon in them. It’s no wonder that we return time and again to its familiar music and uplifting chords.
