Beauty and Shame

For Wilshire Baptist Church

Sunday afternoon we walked on the Spring Creek Trail in Garland to soak up the sunshine and stretch our legs after a week of cold, wet weather. It’s not a rugged or strenuous walk by any measure, although there is a short segment that is unpaved and provides a sense of not being in the city when in fact you’re surrounded by hundreds of thousands of people. In this place, it’s possible to see both the perfect beauty of nature and the ugliness of people.

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Let’s Go

For Wilshire Baptist Church

I’ve begun physical therapy to get my right arm moving again following surgery to repair a torn rotator tendon. It’s slow work, sometimes boring and sometimes painful, but with each session I can see my range of motion increasing. One of the keys to success is handing over control to someone else, and that’s something I’m not very good at.

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Of the Light

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.”

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