The sun enters my classroom after my students leave, and I’m thankful once again for how light can melt the side of my cheek.
Valerie parks her heavy custodial cart just outside my room. Through the window in the door, I see her unroll and tear off two trash bags. She reaches for the doorknob.
When we arrived downtown, the fog was thick. Later that night, while we slept, the wind and rain hammered at two sides of the hotel.
And yet hundreds of conference attendees, the next morning, still drink coffee like strangers.
While daydreaming from a metal folding chair, I saw my grandfather praying.
I had been listening to a class discussion which revolved around the subject of Henri Nouwen’s book, In the Name of Jesus: Reflections on Christian Leadership.
But the long fingers of my memory thumbed backward through the pages of my life until my grandfather stood before me.
Jumping and pointing, my son couldn’t stop shouting. “Daddy, a rainbow! Daddy, there’s a rainbow! Look!”
Once I saw it, something in me felt like shouting, too — though not quite as loudly as a four year-old.
Granted, my spirit was already primed for a celebration as we walked out the doors of our church yesterday evening. My wife and I had just finished Continue reading