a poem in memoriam
My extraordinary mother, Joyce Cole Dow, passed away on June 20, 2020. At her funeral, I was blessed to be able to share this poem inspired by many summer vacations in Maine spent at my grandmother’s cottage. This quaint retreat is nestled along the bank of a beautiful spring-fed lake. Behind the cottage is a steep, tree-covered . . .
One of the privileges I have working on the surgery floor of a children's hospital is to escort parents to recovery to see their child. Having walked with them through check-in, O.R. updates, and a post-surgical consult, it is particularly rewarding to lead the family back to the P.A.C.U. and to see the reaction on the patient's face when . . .
After getting rear-ended a couple of weeks ago, our insurance company provided a rental while our car was being repaired. A blessing amidst that upheaval was the fun of driving a well-equipped new car that included Apple CarPlay. This feature allowed the Maps app on my iPhone to be displayed on the built-in dashboard screen.
One evening . . .
Recently, a good friend and I embarked on an 8-hour road trip to Michigan. The long journey allowed for rich, deep, and mutually edifying conversation with this young man that I consider to be a son in the faith. As the miles passed and the fuel monitor began to creep towards "E," we stopped at a Pilot to refuel. Enjoying the opportunity to . . .
Recently, when I discovered that the majority of my choir members would be out of town on a particular Sunday, I decided to sing a solo for the special music selection. Having sensed some direction based on the theme our pastor had chosen, I picked a song that authentically expressed what God has been freshly doing in my heart.. . .
Calling people "up" instead of "out"
Wanting to escape the relentless summer heat, my wife and I decided to set aside our normal Saturday chores to go to a local movie theater. Appreciating the clever story-telling of the previous three films, we decided to see Toy Story 4.
Though we enjoyed the movie, I left the theater with an unresolved heaviness that I had not . . .
Growing up in a small town seven miles north of our public school campus meant that we had to catch the bus quite early in the morning. Because the high school started first, my sister was usually at the bus stop around 6:15 am. About a half hour later, I would join the other middle schoolers in my neighborhood to wait for our turn on #49.. . .