Disturbed by Corrie Ten Boom’s description of the Nazi guards, I’ve been pondering since finishing The Hiding Place: how can humans act like that? The cruelty she described as the guards ordered prisoners about, the forced marches, the insistent shouting in the face of sickness and frailty. Where did the humanity go?
Then I see the...
walking on Burgundy in January
like my childhood:
broken down dirt
and mashed leaves –
a nice smell
On Dr. King’s birthday, I was reading Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove’s Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals (written with Shane Claiborne and Enuma Okoro) which led me to “Why America May Go to Hell,” the speech Dr. King was working on when he was assassinated.
This led to rumination about Dr. King’s shift...
is in the genre
of football –
no double entendre
I’m at Elaine Blanchard’s writing group in the Shelby County women’s prison, talking about writing, describing the time when I wore a TERRIBLY inappropriate dress to a graduation party for SEMINARIANS and I say, “That’s how I deal with things – I write them.”
Then here comes this quote from James Thurber,...
One time, when I lived in Jackson, Mississippi, I walked out of my front door to find a ticket on my windshield. My car was parked in front of my house in a quiet neighborhood, facing the wrong direction. There were no other cars on the street. The ticket was timed at 3:00 a.m.
I was outraged – how dare a cop give me a ticket in front of...
Last Year: War and Peace
This Year: “Pogo’s Sunday Book”
New blog feature: I’ll name a book when I complete it. All comments welcome. Catching me up so far this year:
The Emerging Church, Phyllis Tickle
Pogo’s Sunday Book, Walt Kelly
Coming of Age in Mississippi, Anne Moody
Here’s to creative synthesis . ....
My theories can stand up to your theories, boxing gloves raised. Or I can feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, take in the stranger, clothe the naked, help the ill, visit those in prison.
Maybe your path is to educate about poverty, explain how folks arrived there, describe the terrible difficulty in getting out. Maybe my path lies in...
Here’s the truth: I am afraid. All the time, I fear . . . constantly. In circumstances without justification, I tremble. That’s who I am. I used to deny this about myself. I pretended it wasn’t true. Buck up, I ordered my quaking self. Get over it. Tossing my head, I stomped down the hallway, refusing to acknowledge that this FRIGHTENED me....
“Do Not Be Afraid”
That’s my sister’s theme for Christmas. She picks a theme every year and, at Christmas dinner, we each talk about our thoughts on the theme. This year, I’ve brought Piglet as a theme visual aide. (A stuffed Piglet, Pooh Bear’s most faithful friend.) I love Piglet, he is the most nervous thing....