Whatever He Says

Tomorrow evening a flock of writing friends will descend on our house and share their individual perspectives on our assignment for September--"School Days." I'm looking forward to it. Some will be funny. Some will be deep. All will be good! I've thought hard, but haven't come up with anything exciting about my own school days.  I've written about the teachers etched in my memory before. They are forever frozen in time for me, just as they looked in the 1950's and 60's. But I think I'll leave them resting in peace and undisturbed for now. :) I love the little book by Robert Fulgham,  All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten,  but I'm still learning, all the time, and my best lessons don't involve holding hands or even milk and cookies.  I guess it's all in how you view "education."  I continue to learn from books, from other people and from my mistakes (I hate making them, beat myself up when I do, but take co...

It was just over a week ago that I looked at the massive amount of emails piled up in my in-box at work and decided that I had to do something about them.  Over the next several days I spent time sorting; responding;  filing and deleting-- until finally--pristine, dazzling white space stared back at me from my computer screen. Ever since that splendid moment of triumph, I have waged a daily battle to hang on to it. Partly because it has been such a busy summer at work, I found that I had no energy to write. I was even beginning to wonder if my well of inspiration had dried up--was my season to write, over? It felt to me; not only about writing, but about a few other things too; as though God had pressed the "pause" button.  Just like my father, who in gentlemanly fashion always walked on the side closest to the traffic when we were out together, and when were about to cross the street, put his arm across my chest like the barrier at a railroad crossing, holding me...

Saturday dawned. The washing machine slish-sloshed the first of several loads.  It was golden, warm and sunny and on my agenda I had Friendship Sunday invitations-- six of them! The thought of that sent me to my basket of devotional reading for a few minutes of spiritual muscle building. There is nothing like a leap out of your comfort zone to bring you to your knees, and going out into the neighbourhood with six invitations, qualified. As I read, I found a prescription for inspiration in a short sermon of Dietrich Bonhoeffer's, delivered on January 1, 1934 in London.  January 1st, that universal day of good intentions!  Bonhoeffer wrote: So a new beginning is not something one can do for oneself. One can only pray for it to happen... But we can pray only when we have realized that there is something we cannot do for ourselves, that we have reached our limit, that someone else must be the one to begin. And he went on to speak from his text, Luke ...

I picked up the invitations as I left church two weeks ago; for the final Friendship Sunday of the summer. We've had two "Friendship Sundays" so far over the hot summer months; church services that are deliberately welcoming to visitors. Dress is casual, we have a short and engaging service, and then a BBQ lunch with everyone bringing salads and desserts to share. It's been fun and I've enjoyed these Sundays. They feel festive and friendly and I've seen many new faces in church. I've been great at bringing salad and dessert; not so great at bringing a friend. So that's why I picked up a bunch of the invitations to a corn roast, printed on stiff card and gaily decorated. This time I would invite everyone in our neighbourhood, I thought.  But instead of giving them out, I didn't. Last Sunday came and I beat myself up before leaving for church with a salad and a Bavarian Apple Torte, feeling badly that yet again I would arrive without the mo...

Hi Folks, My life continues a little crazy right now. It won't always be so, but while it is I am going to lean into the writing of my friend Dave, who wrote a post that blessed me when I read it tonight. Rolling Around In My Head: Count Them One By One : (post expresses Christian sentiment) Whenever Joe and I leave home we each make sure that we've got some spare change with us. We wa...

In March 2011, inspired by  Ann Voskamp's  book,  One Thousand Gifts , I started a gratitude journal.  I continue the journal to this day, jotting down little and big gifts that I am grateful for. It is a sign that I do not do it often enough that it is only number 398 that awaits my pen's next recording. But it is a habit that I love, even though imperfectly practiced, and every now and then, I look back through the entries in the little book bound in green satin and embroidered with a merry riot of red, orange and lilac flowers.  And when I do, I am reminded again of past occasions for gratitude. I smile and am grateful still for these things and so glad I recorded them. In a way, they are more than a mere recounting of things to be thankful for; they trace a life blessed by a Giver of good gifts. Here are a few entries and their numbers: 44) Sky pink reflected on snow at day's end. 46) Two grandchildren who play with bowls of dish soap bubbles for m...

For the past two days I have attended the  Willow Creek Summit , via satellite. It was  an opportunity to invest in learning, skill development and inspiration.  It's been busy lately, so it was with anticipation that I mingled with about two hundred other leaders at the start of yesterday, grateful to be pulled out of the race for a couple of days. I couldn't help looking around me at people. On the way into the building I noticed a short older woman wearing slacks and a tee shirt and sensible shoes built for comfort, not style. She had a slight dowager's hump and a softly rounded body.  There was nothing remarkable about her features. She wore glasses and her hair was permed into a gray halo. As she wandered the crowd, purse in hand, she looked slightly out of place among all the eager beaver leader types. But something in her drew me.  It seemed that everywhere I went during the two days: the gym at refreshment breaks; the bookstore; the w...