No, they are not related, and even my desire for all things to cooperate and connect cannot make them related. Last week I was sitting over iced tea with a friend and wanted to take notes about his ideas so I started digging in my purse for a pen. A fresh garden cucumber, an old-fashioned paper calendar and a little white box of dental floss were all I could put my hand on. No paper--a napkin would have to do, and a toothbrush handle where my pen should be. That’s all my search yielded! Well, that and a moment of laughing frustration that such a sensible leather bag could be so badly provisioned. I’d have passed over the moment completely if my friend had not suggested it might be blog mater
We quote it often in Celtic circles; looking into the face of a newborn baby is like looking into the face of God. What are we seeing? Peace? Purity? Unblemished delight and awe? Endless possibility? It’s a bit harder to see the face of God in the face of your three-year-old who is lying on the floor, screaming bloody murder because her sock is crooked. “I think the church’s job is to help us connect to God. All that other stuff- Catholic, Evangelical, whatever- it doesn’t matter,” a friend said to me recently. “And to other people,” I replied. “If we’re doing it right, we see God in those people too.” It is less complicated to see God in the faces of people we don’t know; the man asking for
When our first dog died, an adorable white schnauzer named Mooch, there was a gaping hole in our hearts. If you have lost a beloved pet you understand. They become companions. Literally, we break bread with them as we eat our dinner! This painful emptiness consumed us and before we were ready, before there was an appropriate amount of time to process our grief we rescued two more schnauzers. They were both black. Jack was 12 years old when we got him and Joanie was, well we don’t really know. She had lived on the streets, had heart problems and was getting up there in age too. Jack was a sophisticated older gentleman who had lived his entire life with one loyal friend. When that man died Jac
Turning the corner into the King Soopers parking lot I was aware of a young woman, a stroller, a couple of kids and a sign. Not a good place to stand because there is nowhere for cars to safely stop when going in that direction. Not a way for a young family to be spending a Sunday afternoon. Not the direction I planned to continue to my next stop. I was in a hurry for just two items. Something stirred inside me. What would make the day a little better for those kids? What doesn’t need refrigeration? How old was the occupant of the stroller? I bought some cheese sticks and some small containers of apple sauce and pulled a twenty-dollar bill from the bank envelope sure that they would be gone
