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All Saints Day
“Mom? Why did Jesus have twelve opossums? I mean, what did he do with them?” — Lizzy Beck This morning during my walk with Jinx, I was struck by how absolutely silent the world was. My own steps were the only sound in the pewter air. It was almost easy to believe that last night the air had been full of ghosts and spirits of ill-will, because the early Sunday hours were so clean, so spotless, so purified. Surely all the saints were watching as I crunched gravel beneath my boots and Jinx’s tail cut the air like a buggy whip. Into my mind came the opening line of Poe’s…
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Reliable Light
It’s a curious thing, a purely human situation, to propose to accomplish something and to saturate the attempt with prayer and focus and keen energy….and then to have the door slammed in one’s face and the word “NO!” shouted into one’s ear with the terrible power of God’s own acoustics. My wife and I are sitting in our little farmhouse as the dark covers the grassy acres outside. We are stunned with the rapidity with which all the things we had hoped for in this past week fell apart and melted into nothingness. I don’t think we have given into despair, but it feels like despair. Disappointment and disillusionment and…
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Boll
“There were some days when he hated everything except himself, but today was like most days, when he hated only himself and loved everything…” — Heinrich Boll “In The Valley of the Thundering Hoofs“ ~ S.K. Orr