“Ave, ave,” soar the stereo boy-voicesas I hang the blue-robed Virgenand her naked Niñofrom the top of the tree.A cubit below the fatherless Holy Family, I tethertheir tin burro to a branch.The mother and child are all of a piece,a single piece of cutout hammered metalwrought by the peasant handsand fingers of the Oaxaca women’s…
I don’t know when I got the blank postcard or who gave it to me, but for years I’ve used it as a bookmark. The sculpture on the front is striking. Two figures, one seated, one standing, are joined at the feet and lean towards each other. Together, they hold an overflowing basin of water,…
“Do not answer a fool according to his folly, or you yourself will be just like him” (Prov. 26:4). “Answer a fool according to his folly, or he will be wise in his own eyes” (Prov. 26:5). These back-to-back proverbs contradict each other. My wife and I joke that she tends more toward the latter…
The holy fool is someone who loves extravagantly. In a world that teaches us to play it safe and self-preserve first and foremost, holy fools dare to love at great cost. Holy fools do insignificant, small things because they are the right things to do, not because there is any fame, influence or money to…
I heard in seminary that Calvin once said “Don’t assume the Holy Spirit’s presence unless you sigh, cry, and die for that to become a reality.” AI tells me the quote comes from Samuel Chadwick (1860-1932), a preacher of English Methodism. So I can’t be sure. I frequently encounter the opposite assumption: Christian communities who…
It’s that most wonderful time of year! The time to tune your car radio to Christmas songs and get a headstart on the holiday cheer. Maybe you’re groaning, but I love the final six weeks of the year, when we get to deck the halls and be merry! I also deeply appreciate Advent, including the…
Spring rains and there are wide puddles in the park. I head towards the primary school to collect my youngest, glad for the fenders on my bicycle, directing the splashes away from me, and glad for my raincoat, too. It’s a wet month but that doesn’t change family routines. The school bell rings at 3:15…
I’m seated by a river called Snaring. Clouds pile like white laundry on the mountain faces that surround this Jasper vista. The river rushes by and one wonders how a river knows to rush or a waterfall to fall, and that neither ever stops. My friend and her family are here with us and she…
Some call it the witching hour. That lost piece of time, like a forgotten tune, tucked between pages of homework, serving supper and filling the tub, the space between unpacking the dishwasher and packing school lunches, brushing little teeth and saying prayers and quickly washing clothes because your oldest son has run out of pants…
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