“A dilemma is a problem offering two unrelated possibilities, neither of which is unambiguously acceptable or preferable.” Webster In a class at Iliff School of Theology our class was given a problem to discuss titled Heinrich’s Dilemma. Heinrich’s wife was dying of cancer. The pharmacist in their town had a new drug that might cure her, but Heinrich was too poor and couldn’t afford to purchase it. The pharmacist was not able to help. Heinrich stole the medicine. We were asked if he had done the right thing and to choose “yes” or “no”. One participant refused to make that decision and didn’t participate in the discussion. She wanted to discuss the ramifications of the situation before decidi
I was walking in the mid-morning with our dog, Pippi on the most beautiful golf course across the street from our house. It was an absolutely gorgeous day! Light blue skies, a few puffy white clouds, a flowing green carpet of grass and all kinds of other life forms. I cannot recall seeing this many squirrels frolicking about; there is an Egret in the pond, doves, pigeons, blackbirds, sparrows, robins, and rabbits. I love those rabbits! As we walked slowly I caught notice of a dragonfly adorned in her (?) majestic blue jacket. She is absolutely stunning. She hovered about eye level and stayed about three feet in front of me as I continued to walk ever so slowly toward her. What was she doing?
High summer is almost here and I'm reveling in the vitality of the season. I look across the street and see that the rising sun will come up a little farther to the north tomorrow, behind the next chimney, and I’m watching the 4-year-old neighbor boy grow faster than the California Poppies in his front flowerbed. I’m enjoying summer movies and long bike rides and I am also torn between an acute awareness of what has been and what is yet-to-be. It seems that lately every season holds some kind of crossroads. My mother is in hospice care and failing steadily and my sister has asked me to write and present the tribute for her funeral. So, I’m sorting through old photos that span the 90 years fr
The fog was so heavy that morning on the Texas Gulf Coast that we could hardly distinguish the building next to ours. My friend and I followed the path down to the waters’ edge and sat down just at the high-water line. The tide had peaked, and it was impossible to tell if it was still coming in or beginning to recede. The gray waves appeared to be coming directly out of the gray sky and lapped at our feet. We could see a few shore birds skittering into the water looking for breakfast. We were, at that moment, totally absorbed into that colorless gray environment. And for the moment, we were isolated and alone as I began to meld into something far bigger than myself. I cannot describe how I f
