For my birthday my wife Joy surprised me with a framed picture of my twenty-year-old mother Trudy. Someone had taken the photo aboard the ship that brought her to America. Doing some genealogical work while we were visiting Salt Lake City, Joy had come across that photograph and the passenger’s manifest of the Vulcania. Continue reading
“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are [beautiful] in the broken places.” Continue reading
The news broke Monday that there had been a shooting at an elementary school in San Bernardino. Images of Sandy Hook—slain children and teachers littering hallways and classrooms—flooded my imagination. Continue reading
Woody Allen once said something like, “My one regret in life is that I am not someone else.” Continue reading
In today’s terms, the prophet Ezekiel resembled a refugee.
Ezekiel lived in exile. He was uprooted by an invading army and forced to live in a land far from home. Nothing about his surroundings was familiar. The language, the food, the customs, the religious practices, and the belligerent locals told him again and again that he didn’t belong there.
At first light I shuffled into the kitchen to make coffee. A saucepan sat on the stove. So, while reaching for the old-school Melitta pour-over carafe, I jerked the saucepan off the unlit burner. Cold water splashed onto my face and drenched the front of my t-shirt. Continue reading