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.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
A Time for Pentecost
Pentecost may be like the grand opening day sale. You cannot have one every day and expect people to become as enthusiastic and responsive. Neither would they be as believing. No more than they would be were we to each day have a going-out-of-business sale. Pentecost is an event for a particular time. One is all there may be need for, unless we have closed the store and need now to re-open.
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