Bread, Wine, Salt

It’s a good time of year to hear about John testifying to the light. The days are short, and even when the sun is supposed to be out the sky is often grey. It’s no surprise that when early Christians talked about God they talked about light. Darkness used to be dangerous. For us, it’s easy enough to push back the darkness with the flip of a switch. I got a letter from PEPCO last week that compared my home’s electrical use with other similar homes. We are “better than average” but not “the best.”  And according to the helpful line graph, most of my electricity use happens between 5 and 11 PM.  “Think about who is using electricity in your home at that time.” said the letter.  The answer is we all are. That’s dinner time and bath time and if I don’t start laundry now my son won’t have clean pants for school tomorrow time. It’s also a time when I am prone to leave lights on in rooms I’m not using simply because it drives away the gloom.  I put the letter on my refrige...

I have too much stuff. My kids have too much stuff. I sent this out to my family a week ago.  Dear Family, Although they don't realize it yet, Bird and Airplane are two very lucky kids because they have all of you who love them very much, and who provide them with fantastic  presents . The boys have plenty of stuff, even after several sessions of sorting out toys, some of which have been donated and some of which are stored in my closet so they'll be more exciting on a rainy day. This year, as you think about  Christmas   presents , I hope you'll consider giving experiences instead of stuff. Ideally the experiences would be with you, of course, but if that's not possible then gift certificates will allow us to take the boys.  I have a short list of suggestions, but it's hardly inclusive. If you have something in mind but aren't sure if the boys would like it, please ask. 1. A trip or a membership to the  National Aquarium .  2. A trip or me...

There was a room in my house that only I knew about. You got there through a half door in my sister’s closet. I haven’t been in that closet in years, but I believe the half door is real. The room itself is impossible, which isn't to say that it’s not real, only that it can’t be. We’re not talking about a bit of a cubby, a utility space where one could stash a journal or a treasure box or even one’s own small self. The secret room was whole room, as big as any of other bedrooms in the house but instead of being crammed with furniture it was empty and it’s only appeal was that is was a room entirely devoid of stuff.  There was no point in putting a wardrobe in there after all. The room itself was already in Narnia. At some point early in my childhood my parents built an addition on their house so that they would have a bigger bedroom for themselves and my sister and I would each have our own bedroom. I remember the addition being built, and I remember sharing a room with my sister...

As prepared for delivery, November 16, 2014* St. Andrew's Episcopal Church, College Park, MD There are lots of sheep in the readings today. Sheep in the Hebrew Scriptures and sheep in the Gospel, with some goats thrown in for good measure. As I was working on the sermon this week I joked that the Bible is fifty-percent sheep.  You could say that all of Christian tradition is fifty-percent sheep. Sheep in the histories, sheep in the prophesies,  sheep in the psalms, sheep in the parables, sheep in the liturgy, sheep in the stained glass, sheep in the hymnody. We have metaphorical sheep stacked to the rafters,  but because we are mostly urban and suburban residents most of us don’t know a lot about actual sheep. I am not an expert on sheep, but I was an Animal Science major in college, where I learned a little bit about sheep. I learned how to flip a sheep, which sounds like tossing a sheep on its head, but really means gently sitting the sheep down on its backside, a...

As prepared for delivery, Sunday, May 25, 2014 St. Andrew's Episcopal Church, College Park, MD John 14:15-21   Jesus said to his disciples, "If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.  "I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them." My the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable to you oh God, in whom we live, and move an...

I haven't written anything worth sharing recently, or cooked anything worth writing about. It's been full speed treading water for a while here. I have a novel I'm supposed to be writing, a writing class I'm not keeping up with, and a letter I should have written months ago that I haven't started.  It's an important letter, and I hope it will be a good and helpful letter, but it will also be a hard letter to write, and a sad one, so I keep putting it off because I am a much better person in theory than I am in practice. But as long as I haven't written that letter I don't feel that I can sit down and write anything else. And so here I am, with something someone else wrote, because maybe you want to read something wonderful. I've read Charlotte's Web to my boys several times now. E.B. White's prose is magical. I could put almost any of his descriptive passages here to show you what I mean, but the rope swing is my favorite. His phrases s...

Kate woke to the winter sun on her face and the sound of the baby chatting away in her crib. No, Kate reminded herself, not baby, almost two years old. With a sigh, Kate pulled herself away from the warm, sleeping body next to her, undisturbed by the sunshine and the not-a-baby. Kate was always grateful when he slept through the night wakings, but  she wished he would take a morning every now and then, maybe a Sunday morning like this one, so she could sleep late, maybe read a book in bed.  Kate put her bare feet on the worn rug, rough under her feet, and slipped on her bathrobe, then padded down the hall to a bedroom crowded with bed and desk and dresser and crib and the over-sized personality of a dark-haired not-a-baby who seemed to fill everything.  “Good morning, my girl.” “Up! Get up! Breakfast!”  That was every morning. Sunday mornings meant a slower start. Kate scattered handfuls of Cheerios, apple slices and chickpeas on the tray of the high chair, ...