Scribbling to sainthood

The Virtue of Quitting

Instead of harrumphing about things we don’t want to do, certain family members and I quote the “Once more unto the breach, dear friends,” monologue from Shakespeare’s Henry V. It lends a certain gravitas to our grumbles without our actually grumbling. As you might imagine, my cranky little spirit utters those lines with some frequency. Though I’m rarely in such dramatic situations as Henry’s troops facing almost certain death, I do wrestle with the temptation of quitting in the face of

Thirsting for Life

Statistics would probably reveal I’ve spent more time in nursing homes, rehabs, and hospitals than the average under forty. It’s not the kind of scene we tend to congregate in, my peers and I. There’s an inherent discomfort about visiting places that exist for the inevitable suffering, struggling, and expiring of humankind that puts a lot of people off. Hopelessness hangs in the scent of industrial disinfectant blended with notes of various bodily fluids. It permeates your clothes, your hair;

Deeper Potential

When Simon rowed Jesus out onto the Lake of Gennesaret, he couldn’t know how the voyage would end. It had been a long, unsuccessful night with every net pulling up empty. His muscles ached. His belly grumbled. Wrinkles of concern knitted across his face as the pressure of providing for his family weighed ever heavier. Simon needed a break. But here was this strangely compelling speaker with a soggy tunic hem, water lapping at his ankles as a mob of listeners crowded him to the shoreline with