“When I look at your mountains, at what your fingers have made — The rocks that the sea moves about from place to place — What are human beings that you have given this to us? What are human beings that we can play on this holy ground?”
It's the messy, holy work of community.
“I’m not some crazy angry person,” I said through tears as the urgent care nurse stitched up the wounds on my hand.
I teared up as I read aloud the familiar Easter text: “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb” (John 20:1).
It was a Monday. Maybe the Monday-ist of Mondays.
“What are you most grateful for today?” I ask each member of my family every night.
Smiling wide, my 2-year-old son handed me his latest artwork. Swirly-twirly lines covered every inch of the paper.
© Copyright 2022 The Presbyterian Outlook. All Rights Reserved. Privacy Statement. Website by Web Publisher PRO