Bring on the Sunshine
Gray weather feels a lot like taking a field trip to Hell. I don’t like overcast days. Whenever the sky gets like this, I sit by a windowsill and entertain the idea of composing Russian poetry.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
Gray weather feels a lot like taking a field trip to Hell. I don’t like overcast days. Whenever the sky gets like this, I sit by a windowsill and entertain the idea of composing Russian poetry.
Dear Lynn,
It’s weird. Weird knowing that you won’t be reading this today. You always read my stuff. It’s how we met. Which only raises questions about your taste in literature.
She works hard. Too hard. And when she’s not cooking in the kitchen of the medical rehab, delivering trays to patients, she’s a full-time single mother.
It’s still January, and even though we’re “resting in the Lord” (Psalm 37:7), we may still need inspiration to make it until Spring.
It was an average weeknight in Birmingham when I stood atop the Vulcan statue. Snow on the ground. I was looking at the city below, standing beneath Vulcan’s massive butt cheeks.
Birmingham. I met the old woman for coffee. She was small and slight, with a mane of white. She spoke with a thick Latin accent.
“I have a story for you,” she said.
It’s the New Year and, judging by people’s resolutions, they think they’re supposed to be doing all sorts of impressive things like losing weight, saving more money, training for marathons, etc.
January–the worst month of the year. Christmas is still 11 months away, and the skies are cloudy all day.
Someone emailed me and said I was an idiot. Which is true, but not for the reasons they cited.
It’s weird. Standing on this stage. In this arena. I’m looking at a thousand faces. Many of them are about to be college graduates. And they’re all looking back at me so hopefully, so full of wonder, so wide-eyed and eager, as if to say, “I hope this idiot’s speech isn’t too long.”
I brought in the new year with a blind dog. She was seated beside me, wagging her butt. I think she could feel the energy in the air.
Do you make New Year’s Resolutions? Do you keep them? If you do, you’re in the minority. But God keeps all of His resolutions. You can count on it!
Christmas supper. The little girl beside me ate ferociously as though she had not eaten in 13 years when in fact she had already eaten two breakfasts, one Christmas lunch, half a bag of tortilla chips, a quarter of a cheese log, and various holiday snacks which all featured onion dip as a main ingredient.
It’s almost Christmas. Stop rushing. Take a deep breath. Allow yourself to slow down and remember what the season is about.
Thank you. That is the purpose of this column. I want to say “thanks.” I don’t know you, but I believe in the good you do.
On Christmas night in 2010, in Iraq our base came under heavy attack from insurgents who launched 92 rockets, reportedly of Iranian origin dating back to the 1970s.
Christmas is a time for memories. I have two childhood memories that have stayed with me all of my “x” number of years, and they are as clear as if they happened a couple of years ago instead of six decades ago.
Christmas Eve. Southeastern Kansas. The middle of nowhere. Kansas is one of those places that gets a bad rap. People speak of Kansas like it’s Death Valley, or the hindparts of Mars.
The Grinch was right! Christmas doesn’t come from a store. It comes from focusing on the reason that we celebrate.