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, . . .
Not too long ago, my wife and I ventured deep into the land of Amazon, purchasing an Echo Dot and an Echo Show. We also bought programmable lightbulbs that we not only can adjust the brightness but also change the color simply with our voice.
Honestly, we thought the steepest part of the learning curve would be getting everything set up . . .
One of the Saturday morning cartoons I loved as a child was Mr. Magoo. Bumbling along from one self-created comical peril to the next, he always escaped, utterly oblivious to the disaster he narrowly avoided. Mr. Magoo's extreme near-sightedness and blissful ignorance generated countless hold-your-breath moments that left me wondering, "How . . .
Almost a month ago, we bought a "real" kitchen trashcan: The 13-gallon, stainless steel, foot pedal, removable insert kind. It is shiny, sleek, and has significantly more capacity than our previous receptacle.
Our former kitchen trashcan was actually a rescue: a salvaged base of a paper shredder that bit the dust years ago. And although . . .
A few months ago, I woke up in the middle of the night. Feeling particularly alert, I rolled over onto my back, folded my hands across my stomach, and just listened. In the beauty of that peaceful, dark stillness, the Lord gently said, "Son, you have settled."
As an internal processor, suddenly feeling vulnerable, it's incredible to me . . .
This summer, we've had a plethora of rabbits around our neighborhood. Nibbling on tufts of grass, settling deep into patches of clover, and devouring our petunias, the pointy-eared hares have thrived amidst the heat wave we have experienced.
Most mornings when I head out the front door to go to work, there is usually a rabbit or two . . .