There are a few good things about not hearing, I’ve discovered since the morning I woke up deaf. I sleep better when I can’t hear the headboard squeak. The Preacher’s favourite music—not always my taste, barely bugs me. And our parrot’s crow imitations? Mere dibbits of sound in a landscape of …
I followed the highway preacher (at far less than highway speed) for a few miles, before I passed. The car’s licence plate read REPENT. As I pulled ahead, I craned my neck for a glimpse of the owner of the rolling pulpit. Who would do that? I wondered. Specially order …
Our daughter and son-in-law’s parsonage overflows with their family of great Canadian jumpin’ Beans. “Don’t move so close to your grandchildren,” a few people cautioned when God led the Preacher and me to a house around the corner from theirs two and a half years ago.”You’ll have no time for …
My daughter thought I’d love the thing she rescued from a friend’s truck headed dump-wards. She thought right. Now the old door, chartreuse on one side, white on the other; veined as a centenarian, flaking and rotten around the keyhole, stood against a wall near my own back door. Waiting …
Life is hard. Ever wonder if God cares? If following Christ makes a difference? If you have enough faith? Four years ago on the day I write this, the Preacher stood in the pulpit of the last church he served full-time and read a note that put a period on …
From volumes of commentaries to irreplaceable classics to the wisdom of fellow theologians through the ages, books are vital tools for pastors. Each one in their personal libraries is a useful friend, and every one precious—even those previously un-read. Those wait on shelves like candy in the freezer—reminders that there’s …
I know how to work the topside of toilets. And since God fitted me primarily for desk-type jobs, I’ve been content to leave their bottomsides to plumbers. But last Saturday morning, and my friend and I, using assorted tools, a bucket and three rags, installed a high-rise toilet at my …
The first time I visited my friend’s home, her dogs curled up at our feet and her horse hunkered just below the front door. That’s not important really, except I found it odd. The door opened from the second story. No stairs below, just prairie grass poking through the snow, …
My first chore after stumbling into the washroom some mornings, is to look into the mirror and use all my powers of persuasion to convince that person I see that she’s alive and needs to report for work. A few weeks ago someone told me about a similar conversation. …
Consider the birds, Jesus said. Most days, I consider a green one. We had a long season of pet-lessness before Ernie joined our family. Prior to living at our house, the second-hand Amazon Green parrot lived briefly at a friend’s home. There, he cawed like a crow and regularly staged …
