Henry Mathias Dalton. The Reverend H.M. Dalton. Mac. Daddy. He had many names. Which one you used depended on how you knew him. I just called him Papa. He was born at the start of the 20th century, in 1911. His mother died in 1922, after which he and his 7 siblings were shuffled … More Papa
“What did you just say?” My friend looked at me from the passenger seat, leaning forward for emphasis, as he asked the question again: “WHAT did you just say?” We were riding together and I was driving in my then-typical road-rage-at-all-times manner. When a driver in front of me failed to go as fast as … More Lord, Have Mercy
(Note: the pic above was commissioned just for this piece by my oldest daughter. Couldn’t be prouder of that kid!) “You’re just like a frog in a kettle…swimming around in the water, not realizing the heat is being turned up on ya slowly.” An old friend of mine used to say this to me every … More Frog in the Kettle
This whole spring has been weird, hasn’t it? Everything around us has changed: schools cancelled, working from home (if you’re able), trying to adjust to social distancing, being smart about what you do and don’t do, where to find toilet paper, trying to flatten the curve, learning how to wear a mask and not touch … More The Oddity of Easter 2020
A couple weekends ago I had one of those experiences where things line up in such a way you have to either discount it altogether as coincidence, or realize the Holy Spirit is trying to get your attention. I choose to believe it’s the latter. I’ve been reading the book “Coming Clean” by Seth Haines. … More Learning to Forgive
Over on the right hand side of our garage is a workbench. It’s not my workbench, because it was here when we started renting, but I’ve laid claim to it for now. On the top shelf sits a nondescript cardboard box: 40” long, 12” wide and around 4” tall. If you noticed it at all … More Unfinished Work
If you know her, you know this isn’t hyperbole: my wife is an amazing person. Amanda has a deep love for others, and not just those closest to her. She is, to borrow a phrase, more precious than jewels. … More More Precious than Jewels
“I feel like a heretic for saying this,” I told my friend, “but I feel I saw Jesus more in our community last year than I did in scripture.” As the words came out of my mouth, I forced a sideways smile to try and hide the guilt I felt inside for even thinking such … More With a Little Help from My Friends
I remember Christmas Eve candlelight services when I was a kid, when the room would go dark, and I couldn’t see the face of my brother or sisters next to me. Down front, there was one single tiny flame, one candle, flickering in the eerie darkness. Slowly, one candle at a time, the light of … More Punching Back the Darkness
A few weeks ago I wrote with great hopefulness of entering into this season of Advent and avoiding the rush, the hectic-ness, all the crazy. I wrote as one with high hopes of quiet mornings spent in the glow of our Christmas tree, sipping coffee and considering the mysteries of the Incarnation. Three weeks in, … More Advent Realities
