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 . . .
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 . . .
...new to me ...new to us
Over the last year, my wife and I have gotten spoiled by the convenience of online ordering and grocery pick up. However, when there were no open slots available over a recent weekend, we jokingly lamented our first-world problem and made a Saturday evening trek to Walmart.
After our shopping excursion, the sea of little white plastic . . .
Recently on a quiet Friday evening, I pulled out a DVD of one of my favorite movies. Near the beginning of "Finding Neverland," the playwright, J.M. Barrie meets a jaded young boy named Peter. Unimpressed with Mr. Barrie's vivid imagination, young Peter remains aloof. And when the playwright suggests that his dog, Porthos, be a bear in a . . .
"Mentionables" in our Journey of Grief.
In the movie, "A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood," one of the main characters makes a poignant statement that is the springboard for this entry. In his gentle, thoughtful, and intentional way of love, Mr. Rogers says to the family surrounding the bedside of a dying man, “You know, death is something many of us are uncomfortable . . .
Several months after my mom passed away, I scheduled an appointment with a dear brother who cuts my hair. It was good medicine to see him. Amidst the hustle and bustle of his salon, our conversation drifted from topic to topic carried along by his infectious joy, his tender heart, and his deep compassion.
As we continued to catch up, I . . .
A number of years ago, amidst a season of physical, emotional, and spiritual burnout, I was asked to minister at a funeral. "Perfect," I thought sarcastically, "A dead man ministering at a funeral." Drowning in negativity from the seemingly incessant discouragement that I had been experiencing, the inability to find a . . .