I want to make it spiritual / but only remember bouncing, / barely balanced on the slick / rubbery hull of a dinghy / near Caño Island, Costa Rica. / I am one in a row of divers / waiting for the command / to roll backwards into the ocean.
At four years of age, I decided to learn how to write. I sprawled on the living room carpet, placed a blank page over a flattened Smarties box, and traced the letters. Then I ran to the kitchen, triumphantly presenting the sheet to my mother, exclaiming, “I can write!” She observed, “You copied a Smarties…
I grew up with images of the mother of Jesus as an idealistic, serene lady quietly sitting in the background. Maybe you did too. Mary was “meek and mild,” a docile observer, patiently “pondering” all the lovely things around her. Recently, I heard a preacher critique this sanitized portrayal. He explained that Mary was actually…
For decades, John Longhurst has been spilling gallons of ink in columns and sundry articles for The Winnipeg Free Press and many publications from North America to Australia and parts between. All deal in some direct or indirect way with faith and religion’s interaction with society. His 2006 book, Making the News: An Essential Guide…
It was a cold morning back in January, as the nurse and I bundled up the girls for a trip to McMaster Children’s Hospital for a scheduled visit. When the appointment ended, we wheeled the girls from the clinic to the large accessible washroom that includes an adult-sized change table. The intentional design with the…
I woke up one morning last week convinced that it was Friday. As the coffee surged through my veins, I opened my iPad and noticed the date said Saturday. Several minutes passed before I admitted to myself that I was wrong. Somehow, I was a whole day behind! Although extreme, this is not an isolated…
I was sitting on the back deck in ourtiny backyard in shadethat protects me from the hot morning sun I spend the restof the year longing for & I realized that this this solitude where all I hearis the hum of our neighbours’air conditioners & the high screechof cicadas this solitude where long-stemmedblooms bob at the slightest…
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