From Your Minister
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My uncle had lost his powers of speech by the time he died. In his hospital bed, surrounded by his loved ones, he used a bead board to spell out what he wanted to say during his final days. At one point, my cousin told me, everyone leaned in close because it seemed like he wanted to say something important. C-H-A-N-G-E—the whole family sounded out the word—change!—and wondered what important words might follow. T-H-E O-I-L F-I-L-T-E-R eventually came through. He was reminding my aunt to do a job he had always done on their furnace. For some reason, letting go of this detail was critical for him as he departed the planet. These were some of his final words.
REsources for Living
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Have you ever had an all-out, meltdown, full-on temper tantrum? I don’t remember having major hissy fits when I was little, although if you asked my mom you would probably learn that’s more about my faulty memory than my good temper. I certainly have been witness to some raging temper tantrums as a parent. My daughter’s frequent tantrums in her younger years pretty much always grew out of wanting something that she couldn’t have—either because we weren’t willing to satisfy her desire, or simply because couldn’t find the thing that she wanted. Either way, you could watch her brain dashing around and around in a tiny little circle: “I want it! I don’t have it! I want it! I don’t have it! I want it! I don’t have it!”
A Stone to Hold On To
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It was the weekend before I was scheduled for a biopsy. Marta spent the morning gathering stones on the beach. Later that evening, she pressed a smooth round stone into my hand and said “I know that when you’re facing a challenge it helps to have something to hold onto. I chose this stone especially for you so you will have something to hold onto this week.” On the plane going home somehow I lost the stone, but during my biopsy I held on to Marta’s love.
Pancakes and Process Theology
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Have you ever had to wake somebody up in the morning?
There are lots of ways to do it. In our house, where simply saying “Time to get up!” is never enough, we’ve developed…alternative strategies. My favorite is singing camp songs: “Rise and shine and give God your glory, glory!”
Born and Reborn Again
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(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing
any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
Night of Blood and Fire
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My father was coming to visit for the first time in 14 years. He met my older son ten years ago in Philadelphia. He had never met my 11 year old. It would take a book to tell all the reasons for the distance between us. It is enough to say I was seized up with dread and going in circles strategizing about how to handle it. My son, now 14, is going North to school. He will be an hour from my father, and I am determined that my son will not be hurt by his grandfather’s lack of family skills. My father and his wife and their two children, the ages of my two children, were coming for a short visit. One afternoon, one supper.
The End Is Not Near
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It was Mary Magdalene and Joanna and Mary the mother of James and the other women who told the disciples [of the resurrection], but these words appeared to the disciples as nonsense, and they would not believe them. Bending over, [Peter] saw the strips of linen lying by themselves and he went away, wondering to himself what had happened. [Luke 24]
From Your Minister
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When I was in my twenties, so many possibilities about what life might hold for me beckoned from so many directions that the upshot was I was fairly immobilized. Many futures were possible, but none of them called my name. Then one day, I stopped into a book-store and picked up a book.
Everything is Waiting for You
What Now?
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Fifteen years ago, I was diagnosed with cancer. I had what the surgeon called a “strenuous” surgery, was off work for nearly three months and debilitated for another six. But…it was OK. The results of the surgery had been the best possible, and this kind of cancer wasn’t supposed to come back. I spent the last month of my medical leave polishing a sermon about what I’d learned from having cancer, and from the debilitation of the treatment. I got much more out of that writing than you could imagine. And then…a shadow on a scan. It looked like it might have come back.
