Lately, there’ve been times when I’ve felt the past three months have seemed like years.
Three years…or thirty.
Lately, there’ve been times when I’ve felt the past three months have seemed like years.
Three years…or thirty.
The Spirit stirred a bit in a city park yesterday. So why am I surprised?
A most unusual storm derailed a family tradition yesterday, and sent us scurrying for safety.
The Psalmist had a message for me – for us – as we gathered in the pews this morning. Which, you’d have to agree, is quite a trick considering that the verses were written 2,500 years or so ago.
We had a lot of company, I discovered, when we hit the pavement the other evening for a post-dinner walk around the neighborhood.
Maybe it was the shaky WiFi connection, but I’m not sure I ever convinced our grandkids (during a recent FaceTime chat} that Gramps was “planting a volcano” in the backyard.
Day 47 of “shelter-in-place”: in which “side yard” becomes “garden plot.” And it becomes apparent to the Little One that he has lost his footing.
Generally, my wife Gerri has found better ways than I have…to make our pandemic “downtime” productive. Sorting through stuff we’ve stored for ages, for example. And yeah: turning all those trays of slide transparencies into digital files we might actually take the trouble to view once again.
…presented by @lasalleretreat : https://youtu.be/6TojKiR1M5U