Things close, things good

In a big world seemingly bent on deconstruction, I find it helpful to focus on things close and good; lately, the construction of our front deck. Our carpenter has already done plenty of good work on our bungalow. He tells me he has ample incentive to do things right—our home …

That’s Father

They joined the Bruce trail at Old Baldy on the Niagara Escarpment: the Preacher and our teenage son. It’s been decades now—just yesterday in memory for them both. I likely warned them before they left the house, exuberant, eager. “Baldy’s lumpy. Tree roots and stuff.   Stay away from the edge.” …

Don’t Trash the Dream

Ever since he can remember, the Preacher wanted a motor-scooter. Something about the wind in his hair and no passengers, I think. Perhaps it was his shoulders, stooped by other people’s burdens, or an obscene increase in gas costs. Whatever, I said, one day over lunch. “Why not go check …

All Comers Welcome at God’s Table

Sixty-seven year old Margareta Winberg, a retired Swedish occupational therapist, received a surprising piece of mail recently. The return address read, The Government of Sweden, Lena Ek, Minister of the Environment. Curious, she opened the envelope and removed an engraved invitation to a banquet at government headquarters.  “I don’t know …

Stillness In and Out

The sky bloomed blue today. The thermometer rose to sleeveless. Willows at the bottom of the property greened up noticeably, and lilac nubs became leaves. On Hope Mountain (the sewage mound turned rock garden) the tulips pushed out buds, a solid promise to bloom as brightly as a Crayola box—soon.   …

When the Lights Dim

The “Painter of Light,” as the world knew him, died last month. Artist and author Thomas Kinkade, well known as a devout Christian, was among the world’s highest earning and most popular living artists. After his death, I sat with one of his books on my lap, and one of …

Great Big Little Things

In retrospect, I ought to have paid more attention when I first noticed the slight hiss in the basement. But it barely registered—until I went downstairs for something else, hours later. Who knew that a pin-sized hole in copper piping can cause a flood in three hours? The pilot of …

God Doesn’t LIKE Salsa

Since their births, our four grandbeans have absorbed the habits of their nearest and dearest adults. I should mention here that their daddy is a preacher. That their grandfather is the Preacher. And that Mama and Nana preach too, in and out of the pulpit, in words written, spoken and sung. Surrounded by …