A few years ago, overcome with a sense that our house had enough “stuff,” Judi and I agreed that we had to have a place for something new before we bought it.
Bad Quakers • Community • Spirituality • Uncategorized
September 12, 2026
I love good music when the mood is right – the kind that stirs deeply within, churning up emotions and reactions . . .
Christmas • Hope • Lament • Seasons • Uncategorized
February 14, 2026
We’re going to see a tree? Really? Granted, it was the Yuletide season, but this one was not decorated for the holidays.
January 24, 2026
Christmas in Mexico pretty much guarantees the holidays will not be snow-covered, but there is plenty of cheer to enjoyed nonetheless. This year we headed to the Southern part of the country — first Oaxaca, then Puebla, and finally Mexico City.
Hope • Lament • Simplicity • Spirituality • Travel • Uncategorized
January 3, 2026
The drive-thru window opened as I pulled forward to pay for my order. The attendant locked eyes with mine and she said . . .
Bad Quakers • Grace • Spirituality • Uncategorized
November 15, 2025
For as long as I have been paying attention in church, grace h as been a central theme in sermons and educational lessons. . . .
Community • Mortality • Seasons • Uncategorized
October 18, 2025
“To use rightly the time we still have is a sacred obligation.”[1] Those twelve words snagged a backrow seat in my mind and continue to heckle me every now and then. . . .
September 27, 2025
An average adult vocabulary in the US, so I am told, ranges from 20,000-35,000 words. That number increases to about 48,000 for a 60-year-old. This is an estimate, of course, as the language police never require a census of every… Continue Reading…
August 9, 2025
Sitting in a mechanic’s waiting area is one of those odd in-between spaces where time feels both paused and constrained, providing opportunity for the mind to roam. It is not quite the luxury an hour on the massage table is,… Continue Reading…
Peace • Spirituality • Uncategorized
June 14, 2025
While out for a bike ride on Indiana’s country roads, I spied a young Amish boy . . .

