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To be a pastor is to return, every week, to face the hungry crowds. To offer, in outstretched and shaking hands, two loaves and five fishes, knowing full well it will never be enough. You are not the one who multiplies. You are Elijah’s widow, scraping...
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The Pious Groundhog A groundhog has taken up residence in the church prayer garden. He (we assume) is eating the Hostas and giving our gardener fits. What to do? This is not St. Francis’ wolf, no livestock has gone missing and not one single human has been devoured....
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My cat teaches me about desire, about persistence. // Seated for a time of prayer, I hear him at the screen door, crying. I open the door, open my heart. Seated again, he climbs, purring, into the warm curve of my lap. His black fur is wet, his...
