When I came to Louisiana, I was hungry for whatever God had for me, as I had been through the preceding year. But in my mind the big move opened an opportunity to go through some kind of death to my previous life and resurrection to what God might do in my future. My first weeks here were on one hand filled with the busyness of moving into a new place. On the other hand, during those weeks I felt something deep within me die—aspects of my identity, attitudes, and priorities. I was glad for the change. And this may…
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As I move into a new life in Louisiana, I am amazed at the piles of things that have occupied my time, money, and energy. Some were expected, others were not. (The photo is not my stuff.) At times life can be like piles of stuff to do that keep us from doing what we’re called to do. Nothing new about that. And these things can range from distracting, to tiring, to overwhelming. We all have our own list that may include business, government, family, repairs, health, finances, requests, events, conflicts, infinity. When life seems hindered by all the stuff…
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I’m hiking along a mountain trail, and I come across this tree that one day long ago ran into a problem. As its roots probed down they confronted a boulder. The process might have gone something like this: ———- “We can’t grow into solid rock!” the roots yell. “We’re at a dead stop. Should we call it quits and just be a small tree?” —“No,” says the tree’s command center. “How big is the boulder?” “So big you can’t believe it. All we feel is rock.” —“Can’t you push it out of the way?” “No. It’ll probably push us…
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My father’s notebooks contained a saying, “The only difference between a grave and a rut is their length.” I used to have a wonderful rut. My life in California was good. For more than two decades Kim and I lived the American dream. But it became an encompassing comfort zone that etherized my soul. I miss California, the ocean, the mountains, the desert, the endless things to do and places to go. I miss my friends, church members, colleagues, students, and loved ones. People in California asked why on earth I would go to Louisiana, and people here…
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My daughter got a new puppy, and little “Mochi” is about four times the size of my Yorkshire terrier. Mochi doesn’t simply walk as most dogs do. She prances—like a joyful expression of being alive. When I take Mochi out on a leash, she stops to watch two people throwing a ball. Her head turns curiously at the sound of a car. She stares in wonder at a flock of birds overhead. She doesn’t chase squirrels yet because she’s too fascinated to do anything but stand and gaze. So I’m patient with her never-ending stops because her innocent fascination with…
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