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Feed, wait, mix, wait, knead, wait, shape, wait, bake, wait. This was my routine for the last couple of months on Tuesdays, my sermon-writing days. During the season of Lent, my fourteen-year-old daughter and I committed to a weekly sourdough class. It was led by Kendall Vanderslice, who was a baker in Boston when she…
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They didn’t even know me. Last fall, I volunteered at Iona Abbey on the remote Isle of Iona in Scotland. I also managed to contract a corneal ulcer. Nothing catastrophic, but not something they could treat on an island off an island off an island. I took a ferry, and a bus, and another ferry,…
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In 2003, 75,000 Verizon employees threatened to strike. In preparation, management employees, like me, were to be trained to fill the positions that would be impacted by the strike. I was assigned to “working aloft” or to be a repairperson who climbed telephone poles.
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Although you’re reading this in February, I am writing to you on what feels like the 53rd of January, when I should be working on my statistical tables. The past few weeks are a blur of trying to begin the administrative year and care for my congregation, while preaching and living amid the fears and…
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While I love the initial glimpses of fall, I am more grateful for a world where there are Januarys. A new year begins with blank paper, new pens, and a crisp sense of possibility. Well-trodden paths of challenging habits are smoothed, and repeated reflections on negative experiences are lifted and left behind.
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There have been times in my life when I have stood before a board table full of men to plead my case or that of another. Nine times out of ten, I knew more about the topic and had more firsthand experience than they did, yet just standing in front of men who all looked…
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