{Life and Death in 25 Lines}

His homework was to write a poem. Tell us a childhood memory. He wrote, The Week my Grandpa Died in 25 lines. Over two sautéing onions, tears.  I’m choking on them and the meat and spices, Mom, is this too hard? Mom, do you need a hug? Mom, I need to give you a hug he says coming…

My Spiritual Eyes are Stinging

From listening to a QIdeas talk with Eugene Peterson on the Sabbath. I must stop trying to be God.   Which means also stop trying to prove myself.  Stop with the interminable, frantic burden of finding my place in the world.  Yes, there is a dignity to work – any kind of work—even house work….

Advent Lament: My Endless and Voluminous Need

Some have said Advent is an opportunity to walk into the dark night of the soul, as Nouwen called it. This works for me.  As I sat in church yesterday I felt unsettled and angry.  Stirred by the challenges of my life I felt a heightened awareness of my need — my endless and voluminous…

There is No Just War

I went to bed a few hours ago and woke with this ringing in my ears: “There is no just war.” I’ve no idea where it is coming from; it seems totally out of the blue.  Sometimes things come to us from what we were reading or talking about before we fell asleep. I was…