eleven:eleven

Linda and I recently had the privilege of caring for our granddaughters for about 5 days. It was so much fun — and exhausting. We did a lot of the grandparent things you might do with your kids: go to the zoo, the park, the museum.

I once heard someone describe their worry as a persistent, gnawing at their very existence — their life feeling consumed, piece by piece and moment by moment, till their life was not theirs . . .

Over the weekend, I stumbled on to a Book Festival in a nearby town featuring authors and illustrators of every genre from all over the US. So I sat in on one session of Middle-Grade authors. And I noticed a common theme — first drafts.

Change wouldn’t be so hard if you didn’t have to change with it. Even welcome changes that we’ve hoped and planned for present some cracks in the sidewalk for us. And when the changes we face are not our choices, keeping our footing gets even harder.

Kintsugi is the centuries-old Japanese art of fixing broken pottery. Rather than attempting to repair broken ceramic pieces with a hidden adhesive, the Kintsugi technique employees a special tree sap lacquer dusted with powdered gold, silver, or platinum.

This Sunday, we’re starting a new series, How to Be Human. I invite you to join me as we explore paths of ambiguity and unknowing toward the discovery of the light at the heart of our humanity. 

I asked some of my friends to quickly respond by telling me their most boring job. A social worker said paperwork, a singer-songwriter said the details of licensing and contracts, a performer said the long drive home after the excitement of the show.

There is this strange story in the Gospel of Luke where Jesus is teaching some of his followers in someone’s home.

Here is a story I read recently by Shefa Gold. “Imagine this scene: We see a tribe riding camels across the desert. The sun is burning; the wind is blowing; the wilderness stretches out before them.

What does your most authentic self look like? To put it another way, what is your “why?”