Last week we received in the mail a catalog that is to our girls like the Sears catalog was to me when I was a kid. Remember that big catalog and the pages and pages of toys? Like Ralphie with his Red Rider, I’d take a Sharpie and circle everything I wanted from Santa, which…
In her book on writing, Anne Lamott recommends for all rookie writers to begin with childhood, specifically what school lunch was like. Write everything you can remember, she says, about school lunch. What you ate, what others ate, what you and they traded for. Everything. I suppose, as she recommends, I could begin here, and…
I'm postponing my normal First Century Pastor post today to tell you about a little Mexican girl I loved in second grade. Her name was Veronica Rodriguez, and she had tan skin and dark hair that ran the length of her back. ... Back then I was no more Mexican than my Gringo mother and stepfather.
If you weren't aware, October is Pastor Appreciation month. Many churchgoers might night know about this month-long opportunity to lavish praise and gratitude on their ministers, but most of us men and women of the cloth do. Very often we receive greeting cards of thanks and gift cards to area restaurants. Sometimes it may simply be a check, which for our family has on more than one occasion been a timely resource for an urgent need.
It’s said that Mozart at an early age—not sure when but later than five, when he started composing—had to choose on which instrument he would focus his efforts, violin or piano. Perhaps because he was more of a perfectionist than I am, he decided on one instrument, whereas lately I’ve preferred guitar, even the electric over acoustic.
... That’s pretty much how our friendship worked. I was her stand-by friend. If she had nothing else to do, she’d call me. If she didn’t have a date on Valentine’s Day, she’d call me to see what I was doing. I think I was always kind of her backup, which is why I was anxious to tell her I was marrying Cindy. I was having visions of "My Best Friend’s Wedding."
I was at a grocery store recently and saw a young woman returning to her car with but a single flower. I wondered who she planned to give it to. A boyfriend? Her mother? A close friend? I often wonder when I see someone buying flowers. What’s their story? You can tell sometimes.