the beauty of an ordinary life
I've been thinking about dreams, and commitment, and faith. About heart and head, yin and yang, art and science. About how paths wander apart and then reconnect in ways that aren't always predictable. Taking that last metaphor forward, today's post is a trail that diverts a little from the path we've been on here recently: … Continue reading Something about faith.
During my growing-up years, in the days before widespread cable television, our local CBS affiliate station aired old movies in the afternoons and then again late at night. Among the films I remember watching are these: What Ever Happened to Baby Jane; Hush Hush, Sweet Charlotte; Sunset Boulevard; Sorry, Wrong Number; Rebecca; Dracula; The 39 … Continue reading Night must fall. March forward anyway.
I was raised in the Presbyterian tradition by a Presbyterian-raised father and a mother who adopted one particular Presbyterian church because of its music program. In my growing up years, we went to that same Presbyterian church most Sunday mornings, though the habit became less and less regular as we grew older. When my parents … Continue reading It’s Sunday. Fill your cup.
The only (relatively) important point here is this one: Peace is an inside job. If you're just scrolling through and see only the first line because you've got a busy day and don't have time to read more, then you're all set, with just that first line. If you're here for a little while longer, … Continue reading Something peaceful.
Some of this might be familiar, because I've written parts of this story before. And it's still an incomplete thought, as you'll notice: In my late teens/early 20s I changed faith lanes from Presbyterian to Episcopalian, not for any particular reason but generally because the Anglican tradition felt tidier and more intellectual, and the liturgy … Continue reading Something about quitting.
The third thing she told me was that life begins at 50. She said this just to me, out of earshot from my traveling companion, as she was tucking me back into the driver's seat, right before she said, "I love you," which is what she always said at the end. We had been together … Continue reading Life begins at 50.
Sometimes it's hard for me to believe in God. And before you run off worrying that I'm about to go all come-to-Jesus on you, understand that I long ago decided to believe what I believe, relinquishing any desire to control what you or anyone else might choose to believe. You've got yours; I've got mine. … Continue reading A certain lack of certainty.
I am a converted believer in Memphis, my hometown, the place I vowed never to live after turning 18. It wasn't some great epiphany. Like many conversions, it was subtle and happened while I wasn't paying attention. If, generally speaking, places have a way of growing on a person, then Memphis is the kudzu of … Continue reading 12 articles of faith for a Memphis believer.
jenny's lark 