The reason I’m a liberal is because I was brought up a Christian. I’ll repeat that, just incase you’re doing a double-take. The reason I’m a liberal is because I was brought up a Christian.
I taught Sunday school under my Gram’s tutelage, I wrote and delivered children’s sermons in front of packed congregations in my teens. I’ve read the Bible – The reason I’m a liberal, is because I was raised a Christian. Read the rest of this entry
Ten days after I got back to MA, ten day after my dad’s memorial service, the message came that Gram was about to pass. And for eight weeks, I had thought I was going to be okay with that message, that after everything we had gone through – I was going to be okay with that message. But I wasn’t, and ten days after I had been home in MA, I was packing up and heading to CT. Again.
An aside-
-there about fourteen stories I have to tell you in this one post to get to the ending, so please hold on, I’ll get there.
When Papa was in the hospital – I had a lot of new CT area code numbers in my phone. And one day when I mean to dial my mother – I dialed my grandfather. Read the rest of this entry
Ten days ago, I was dipping my toes in the Mediterranean, and soaking up the sun of Barcelona in an outside cafe, while sipping coffee, in a square a few hundred years old, and watching my students learn to love a new place.
Seven days ago, people on the other line of a cell phone who sounded a million miles away, told me there was only a fifty-fifty shot my father would make it through the night. They told me to come fast.
Six days ago, they told me he would be off the vent in a day.
Three days ago, I held my son while they drew his blood, from his tiny little arms, because the peanut, is getting lighter.
Two days ago, a nurse started being more straight with me than all the nurses before. The pneumonia is menacing, the vent isn’t going anywhere.
Yesterday, I was told my gram might just have days to live.
Today, I was told maybe it might be longer.
And so – Read the rest of this entry
Some days I miss God.
As a child, I had absolute faith. I was raised in the ubiquitous New England, Congregational church. I was confirmed at thirteen, and taught Sunday school along side my grandmother from the time I was twelve. I had my own class by fourteen. For my entire freshman year of high school, I didn’t miss one Sunday of church. I played the Angel Gabriel in the Christmas pageant. I gave children’s sermons in front of full congregations. I was a councilor at an affiliated church camp. I read the Bible, both testaments, word for word. I can still recite the names of books of the New Testament in order, and can tell you just about every parable and bible story. Read the rest of this entry
