Dear Readers,
As you may know, one week ago I fell and fractured my left jaw. I was on my way to get a haircut. I’ve been at a loss for words. Last night I wrote this before going to bed. It’s my answer to the question everyone asks me–and that I ask myself. Read the rest of this entry »
Last week George MacDonald was on top of the world! Surveying his life’s inheritance, at peace with his Maker, and entering into “liberty’s divine expanse.” Now the tone shifts abruptly. Things don’t seem as rosy as they were yesterday. My comments follow.
August 2
It will be so—ah, so it is not now!
Who seeks thee for a little lazy peace,
Then, like a man all weary of the plough,
That leaves it standing in the furrow’s crease,
Turns from thy presence for a foolish while,
Till comes again the rasp of unrest’s file,
From liberty is distant many a mile.George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul
Augsburg Fortress 1994
…Keeping the home fires burning. That’s my hat, not yours! October 1972
By summer 1972 D knew things might not work out for him at the Bible College. I wasn’t sure they would work for me, either. 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 »
Houston Journal, 19 June 1998: Every time I come Diane is a little less alive in her bodily functions. This time feels very heavy—the hospital bed feels like the beginning of the end. On the TV today they were talking about an ALS cure by 2000. I don’t think Diane will make it that long. Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth 