I’m unfocussed today, so I’ll blame it on the weather. (Easy to do here). Trouble is, these are the kind of days when I give myself grief, slipping down the slippery slope connecting measuring up to well-being.Gratefully, the geese seem…
What's in your sack? the traveler, stooped from the heaviness, is asked.My Mother.Isn't she heavy?She sure is.Why don't you put her down?I can't.Well, why can't you stop carrying her?I don't know. I've always carried her. I know this: I,…
“I like your style,” I tell the geese on this cold and blustery morning. “Even today, still looking for sun, and a good meal. And you hang together; that impresses me. Plus, I’m told you mate for life, with very low divorce…
By my desk, a waste basket half full of wadded Sabbath Moment starts. None of them felt right. Or adequate.Like a Doctor visit I recall. “Where does it hurt?”“I don’t know.”“Can you be more specific?”“Does everywhere count?” As one friend…
“You all irritate me,” I tell the geese. “Well, truth be told, only sometimes.”“That’s an interesting way to start a homily,” one says, without looking up.“Okay. Maybe it’s not you. It’s me,” I tell them. “Truth be told, I’m churning…
Welcome to the new year. 2021. There are so many who couldn’t wait to get here, with 2020 in the rear-view mirror. Although we all know it doesn’t quite work that easily, does it?But this I do know, from a…
“Remember, if someone dances with you in the rain, they will most certainly walk with you in a storm,” I tell the sheep this morning. “So, thank you for listening to me every week. I am grateful.”Their look tells me,…
The wind chill this morning hovered in the low 30s, stocking hat and scarf weather, so I tell the sheep that the homily will be brief. That got their attention and I see gratitude in their eyes.“it is a serious…
The flood was several weeks ago, and I stopped by to see how things were going and went into Sykes' grocery store (Ellen Gilchrist tells her story, just after Katrina). The proprietor told me about filling the sandbags, who all was…
Ninety-three-year-old Magalia resident Margaret Newsum feared for her life, watching the Paradise fire bearing down. She was quite immobile, still recovering from a broken back, and she stood in front of her house, waiting to die. Then she saw, out…
