Thursday, August 31, 2017
Wednesday, August 30, 2017
Woody sure could sing the truth,
Jim Dannals, he can preach,
Jesus could walk on water,
They're all beyond my reach;
Some can build a better house,
Some know how to teach,
Some would climb a mountain,
Some sleep on the beach,
Some folks wander in the dark,
And some walk in the light,
Some folks bravely keep the peace
And some just want to fight,
Some are convinced they do God's work,
And some just hope they might,
And some give up any hope
their life will come out right;
We each can only do our best,
For we can never know,
Our smallest deed, our quickest word
Might strike a spark to grow
Into an all-consuming fire,
Or to a star's soft glow;
Oh, we are brief, and life goes fast,
But Love grows deep and slow.
Tuesday, August 29, 2017
Monday, August 28, 2017
Summer gentles in her final weeks, granting us pleasant days and cool evenings, sprinkling small beauties in the shade. Under blue skies, the faintest hint of color in the tops of the maples, first promise of coming glories.
Looking around at all that is about to pass, and thinking of what is soon to be revealed here, one hardly knows whether to mourn or rejoice. Friends are coming up the mountain to visit us this week. That is enough to balance in favor of rejoicing.
A good place in good company. Want much beyond that, and we're just being greedy.
Sunday, August 27, 2017
Saturday, August 26, 2017
We like our tomatoes ripe well enough, sliced on a sandwich, or on a plate with a big helping of sweet corn, but most of ours get eaten green, sliced and fried in a light cornmeal batter, or chopped into soups or stews, or diced raw on a salad with arugula and mizuna. Yes, oh, yes...
Friday, August 25, 2017
Yes, there was a solar eclipse Monday. The Main Muse and I drove down to the wild corner of South Carolina, and viewed the spectacle at Oconee Station, with about a dozen otherr pilgrims in the parking lot of Pleasant Ridge Baptist Church. We snuck in and out by the back roads, and missed the predicted throngs of foreigners.
Actually, all in our little gaggle were foreigners, slipped in over the border from some other state, hanging out on the fringes of belonging, hoping for a glimpse of glory. Since we landed right on the centerline of the eclipse path, and the clouds mercifully parted over us, we saw plenty, and went our separate ways rejoicing, full of praise and thanksgiving.
Thursday, August 24, 2017
The plan was to write a few short stories while I wait for Editor to fire her first volley of mark-ups at the novel manuscript I submitted this summer. Several thousand words into the second story and it's already starting to look a bit novella-ish.. I'm beginning to get excited, mainly because I love the characters and have no idea where they might be heading.
So far, Amelia has met Wendl in an otherwise unoccupied church. Not their last meeting, if Trier has his way.
Wednesday, August 23, 2017
More and more, I'm convinced that the simplest, deepest definition of the Gospel is one word, hospitality. We meet God in the welcomes of our lives.
God welcomed us in Christ. We welcome God in one another. Jesus said, if we welcome anyone, we are welcoming him.
The entire universe is an invitation to participate in God's great Welcome, right where we are, wherever we are. Every time we say, “Y'all come on in,” we echo the voice of God. She said it first.