My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Balloons in Church
There were balloons in the church, and singing. There were posters, and people embraced. They talked aloud; they smiled; and at the kiss of peace, they kissed. Understandable that some might not have recognized it as liturgy. Sad they did not know it as Church.
Labels:
acceptance,
Church,
joy,
priesthood
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