My dad was an avid gardener, and my mom was a wonderful cook. With six children, our dinner times meant family packed around a large, wooden trestle table and a vast spread of food. Vegetables were plentiful, along with meat, potatoes, and bread. Friday nights were fish sticks and Saturday always meant homemade pizza using sauce from tomatoes . . .
Not too long ago, I found an amazing recipe for biscuits from scratch. Thinking they would be great for Thanksgiving, I decided to make a practice batch to see if we liked them. While the professional photograph portrayed magnificent golden-brown rosemary, apple, bacon, and white cheddar mounds of deliciousness, my final product turned out . . .
Discovering Peace in the Season of "Yet to Be"
Most every weekend we pass through an older part of town that is slowly transitioning from residential to commercial property. The slow process over the 20 years that we have lived here has been painful to watch.
While the houses have often been abandoned, gutted, and then demolished, there is one ranch-style home that we have watched . . .
As the weather has warmed and the days have become longer, my wife and I have appreciated the opportunity to enjoy our deck in the evenings. As we sat outside for the first time this season, we chatted about the day, eagerly sharing the funny and the frustrating things that transpired.
During a lull in the conversation, I noticed a large . . .
Not too long ago, while sitting in the choir loft during a sermon, I followed a thought along a rabbit trail that led me to Numbers chapter 33. (Sorry, Pastor).
Titled "Stages in Israel's Journey," this passage captures Israel's rest stops on their trek out of Egypt to the Promised Land. It basically reads, "The Israelites left this city . . .
Most every Sunday at my church, I sit at the keyboard in the choir loft. When Communion is served, I am privileged to have a direct line of sight to the Table and can easily see the elements as they are consecrated by our pastor.
One particular Sunday, when the Celebrant lifted the homemade loaf and began to break it, the bread stretched, . . .