~ ~ ~ King’s College Choir, Cambridge, U.K.
It’s Christmas Eve, 1998. I’m sitting in a chair in our living room, facing our stereo speakers. Tears stream down my face. I’m listening to the annual live broadcast Read the rest of this entry »
Isn’t it time to get on with it? Let the past be the past? I understand these questions. I know the feeling. If I open up that can of worms it will devour me! And cause anguish to other people.
Henri Nouwen opens the first section of his small book, The Living Reminder, with this story about Elie Wiesel. Read the rest of this entry »
This is the last piece Diane wrote for her friends about ALS. I’ll respond next Friday. It’s a longer piece, definitely tough reading. Partly because it’s about her; mostly because it’s about us. Read the rest of this entry »
Even though I’m the oldest of four daughters, destined to be Number One whether I like it or not, I have to confess: I like being Number One! I like being the Boss! At least most of the time.
My husband is the Number Two child in his family. Read the rest of this entry »
There’s an old, old story in the Bible–the story of deeply rooted hostility between men and women. According to Genesis 3, the wall of division between men and women goes far deeper, and begins ages earlier, than any other wall of division in the human race. It’s deeper and wider than Jew and Gentile; deeper and wider than slave and free.
Esther 1 reminds us: The power struggle between men and women has ancient roots Read the rest of this entry »
It’s summer, 2012.
I’m speaking in public
about things I’ve never described
to a live audience. Read the rest of this entry »
Wondering what will become of me and all of us in the days and years ahead. Generally, I love the night-time. Sometimes, though, things weigh on my mind. I’m in a bit of that overweight-mind-mood this evening.
This ‘light’ poem from Amy Carmichael put things in perspective. It reminds me of Read the rest of this entry »
It’s out there. I published it. Why am I feeling so much more exposed now than I did when I wrote about my father? Or even the Shopkeeper? Read the rest of this entry »
‘Tis the season to be jolly, right? It all depends. George MacDonald’s opening line for his December sonnets describes a state in which I find myself these days:
I am a little weary of my life….
He inquires about his weariness. Perhaps it’s from something that’s meant to be.
Shall fruit be blamed if it hang wearily
A day before it perfected drop plumb
To the sad earth from off its nursing tree? Read the rest of this entry »
