For Wilshire Baptist Church
I awoke Ash Wednesday morning to a text from my mother that said: “March 2, 1962. 60 years ago today” – with a birthday cake emoji. It was a reminder that it was my sister Martha’s birthday. We lost Martha in April 1971 after an Easter week car crash. She was just nine years old. I texted back. “Thanks for the reminder. I’m embarrassed that I probably would have totally forgotten.”
Continue reading “Of the Light”For Wilshire Baptist Church
It was good to be back at church on Sunday, and as expected, along with the well wishes and commiserations about having my arm in a sling, a few people asked how I injured myself. The answer is I didn’t; a bone spur tore my rotator tendon. I had surgery to remove the spur and stitch the tendon.
“Just one of the joys of getting older,” I said.
“And what caused the bone spur in your shoulder?”
“A lifetime of shrugging.”
Continue reading “A Time to Shrug”For Wilshire Baptist Church
It’s an ugly season at our house — in our back yard, to be more specific. Looking out the back windows, everything is a dull shade of brownish-gray. The flowerbeds are full of the dry remains of last year’s blooms, while weeds and wild grasses that are immune to the cold are taking over. Even the pea gravel path that divides the main beds is beginning to disappear from view under a layer of creeping, mossy weeds.
Continue reading “Signs of Better Days”