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.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Savoring the Journey
We may not always know where we are going, but we do know where it began. We began to be Church at an empty tomb and in the presence of resurrection, assurances that we were on the right path. There is then less need to say at each step just where we are headed since we know we will get there. Over time we might be wandering, and can only hope it is an enjoyable meandering and take from it all of the sights to be seen. We will arrive, and along the way will arrive at the places in between. Savor these, too.
Labels:
Church,
faith,
journey,
resurrection
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