When I got to church last Sunday, the sanctuary was swarming with children in their bathrobes with beards made from toilet tank covers.  There was a six month old baby rolling around the floor in front of the altar.  The pastor’s study, doubling as the green room, was cluttered with props.  An eight year old  Read the Rest…

The first week after we all “fall back” is always hard for me even though I love the morning light because I get up early.  Just wait until we “spring forward.”  If I am still writing this blog (and I hope to be), you will never hear such ferocious whining as I will do in  Read the Rest…

A few posts ago, I wrote Whining Helps.  I now want to announce that Groveling Doesn’t. Genevieve came in the other night, apologizing for the second week in a row that she hadn’t practiced and would it be all right if we did sight reading again this week?  The week before she had read through  Read the Rest…

We observe the ritual: The washing of the feet, The anointing with oil and salt, The baptism into bags of hot paraffin. She paints a second coat of Kingfisher Blue; Toe by toe, my head bows, my eyes close. How beautiful are the feet that bring me thro the valley of incense Into the sanctuary  Read the Rest…

There’s nothing like busting open the head of the Blessed Virgin Mary to remind you to slow down.  Here’s what happened:  I was having one of those mornings when I was not in the moment.  There were way too many moments trying to be represented in every in-breath.  I had a chiropractic appointment and a  Read the Rest…