Always Reforming

It's never easy to lose a loved one.  Whether he is young or old, terminally ill or in the prime of his life, there is always pain.  There is always a void. That being granted, one of the most underappreciated gifts is the opportunity to say goodbye.   I never had the opportunity to say goodbye to Mom. Not really. I was at the theater watching The Return of the King the night she choked and had to be resuscitated.  She was never conscious again.   She lay in that hospital bed as we wondered about the future.  The machines kept her blood circulating and we gave her permission to find her rest. We may have said our goodbyes, but I don't think she heard them.  If she heard them, she couldn't reply. We never dreamt we would lose our father as suddenly, indeed, more suddenly, than we had our mother. Mom had been sick most of my childhood.  Dad had always been relatively healthy. Mom had suffered a stroke--not her first--about a year before sh...

If you have interacted with me on social media, you know that I have always been outspoken on the issue of Paedocommunion .  It is a theological position and a liturgical practice about which I am passionate.  Having been raised, and having raised my children, at the Table, I cannot imagine attending a church that didn't allow PC.  I hope that when I am old and gray, I will still be an advocate for bringing little children to the Sacrament. Throughout the 12 years that I have had this blog, I have written scattered thoughts on the topic, but it appears that I have never written a concise summary of my reasons for affirming PC.  I was thoroughly convinced that I had, but I can't seem to locate it, so I guess I never did.  So, to rectify the omission, here are four reasons I hold to PC. 1) Paedocommunion is Biblical.   Any discussion of the topic should start here, and I would hope that both sides of the debate would make this assertion.  However, l...

The older I get, the more I lean into orthodoxy.  As a general rule, I am wary when I hear the terms cutting-edge , novel , groundbreaking , or progressive applied to theology. Orthodoxy is objective.   Orthodoxy is bigger than me .   Orthodoxy is a standard outside of myself--my weaknesses, my blind spots, my biases--to which my theology conforms. Orthodoxy is stable. Orthodoxy is an anchor that keeps us from this tossing about with every  wave of doctrine .  Theology has an unfortunate tendency to adapt, both to the culture around us and to the storm within us.  We too often import current cultural values into Christianity because we don't want to be out of touch or old-fashioned.   We also allow our personal experiences--triumphs and failures, successes and hardships--to color the way we view God and interpret His Word.   We believe what we want to believe. We are masters of self-deception--we can convince ourselves of any...

Companion, confidante, friend and lover, Schoolteacher, counselor, wife and mother, How can one woman fill so many roles? How can one human support all these souls? Stunning and sexy, so sugary sweet, Caring, passionate, the package complete, How one look, one expression, means so much! How, twelve years later, I still crave your touch! Who would I be?  Where, pray tell, would I go? I would be lost--guideless--without your glow, You are the sun around which our solar System revolves; your presence is polar, You are my gravity; you are, in truth, The heart of my home, the wife of my youth.

Originally written 3/6/14. The place I once called home I call home once again, I do believe it's the best place I've ever been. Oh, the ironies of life never cease to amaze me, Spencers and Marlboro seem to have some history. Marlboro, Ohio is unextraordinary, But it's as good a place as any to be happy. Back in Marlborough we were dukes and royalty, Here we're just citizens--happy to be free. Marlboro doesn't have anyone like a William Golding, But we've got fun and friends and hands for holding. Marlborough has those roads as wide as any you'll see, Back home we just hope to avoid potholes and tragedy. There's something about that small-town sort of charm, The scenery, the simplicity, the sounds and smells of the farm. Look how far we've come, and, yet, everything is pretty much the same, We've just dropped a couple of letters from our name.

This poem was original written on 4/17/15. Witnessing the miracle of life Conjures memories of my own birth, Holding my little girl reminds me Of the woman who used to hold me. When I think of her, I think of the Scars that have come to define our lives, Two cuts that have shaped our family, And changed the course of our history. Down her chest, where they tore her open, Down her belly, where they cut us out, I wonder how different life would be If she never went under the knife. Would we be a happy family? Would I be anything like myself? All I know is, nothing has shaped me As extensively as her two scars.

Honey, I didn't forget our anniversary--I celebrate it every day! Preposterous, right?  Well, that's what you sound like when you suggest that celebrating the Resurrection on Easter somehow detracts from or contradicts a weekly or daily remembrance thereof. In the Anglican Communion every Sunday is technically a feast day, and rightfully so.  The Lord's Day is the day on which we celebrate our risen Lord by gathering with His body for Word and Sacrament.  Once a year, however, we, along with the majority of Christians for nearly two millennia, set aside a special day to commemorate the Resurrection in a special way.  We choose to focus on this one doctrine, this indispensable historical event, in a special way on that particular day. There is no conflict here.  There is no contradiction here.  There is absolutely no reason that celebrating something on a specific day should detract from our continued celebration of it throughout the year.  In fact, the...