hope

Easter Us Again

Easter Us Again

Ruler of the Night, Guarantor of the day . . .
This day — a gift from you.
This day — like none other you have ever given, or we have ever received.
This Wednesday dazzles us with gift and newness and possibility.
This Wednesday burdens us with the tasks of the day, for we are already halfway home
     halfway back to committees and memos,
     halfway back to calls and appointments,
     halfway on to next Sunday,
     halfway back, half frazzled, half expectant,
     half turned toward you, half rather not.

Addicted to Story

Addicted to Story

When I grow up, I want to be Robin Hood. I always have, and, I suspect, I always will. The Disney cartoon held my imagination as a child in an iron grasp, and, through most of my childhood, I day-dreamed of archery contests, the clash of steel-on-steel, and rescuing fair damsels. To this day, I still nurse a glowing ember of hope that one day I’ll be able to don a feathered green cap and pick up a bow. My wife, however, isn’t so keen on the career change.

Color Forgiveness

Color Forgiveness

In the weeks that led up to becoming a dad, I received a lot of well-intentioned, but largely unhelpful advice. It seemed like everyone who’d ever been spat up on, changed a blown-out diaper, or tried to comfort a colicky child took wicked delight in describing the horror ahead of my wife and me. It’s like they wanted me to regret having a child. I did my best to remain polite, but inside, I rolled my eyes.

Parousia

Parousia

The sun dawned pale that morning, as if afraid to disturb the peace that had settled over the house of my childhood. Birds kept their gossip to themselves, and the wind from the night before remembered a prior engagement the next county over. Perhaps the silence woke me, for I sat on the bed rubbing sleep out of my eyes when my dad cracked the door. “You’ll want to come soon. She held on through the night.”