While living in New Haven, Connecticut, we made plans to go with Lucille Clancy, a parishioner at our church, to the Macy’s Thanksgiving parade in New York City. We were so excited about this and Lucille was looking forward to going back to the site of her fondest Thanksgiving memories.
Since I arrived at Calvary about four weeks ago, I’ve been greeted with warmth and kindness. I’ve reacquainted myself with a westbound commute and started to learn some new names. I have climbed into the pulpit two Sundays and looked out over the altar two Sundays as well. It feels so
Peter Gomes, the late great preacher and minister of Harvard’s Memorial Chapel, (and also, I might add, a brilliant, witty preacher at Calvary’s Lenten Preaching Series in the 1990s), had a unique perspective on Thanksgiving.
He lived in Plymouth, Massachusetts, where the first immigrants, later called Pilgrims, landed in 1620, and where the first Thanksgiving meal
As I write this note to you on All Saints’ Day, I am keenly aware of two things that, though they have nothing to do with saints, major or minor, have invaded my consciousness this afternoon. One is the amount of leftover Halloween candy, which presents the question of how much of my life I
“God did not become a movement, a concept, an ideal, or even a committee, but a man of flesh and bone with a parentage, friends, a language, a country, a home. He inhabited not just a time but places, streets, rooms, countrysides, and by his presence in the flesh he changed them all.”
– Aidan
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: . . . a time to seek, and a time to lose: a time to keep, and a time to throw away.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1, 6)
As we enter this season in which we reflect upon stewardship, it is a good time to
“Sometimes I sits and think; and sometimes I just sits.”
-Satchel Paige
Two interesting aspects of my life have converged this month. One is that I am preparing a series of meditations for a weekend silent retreat at St. Columba Retreat Center at the end of October. The other is that my favorite baseball team, the
Many years ago, a grief counselor ended our session by handing me a two-word prescription: ‘Nurture self.’ While that might not seem like a lot, it was amazing how seeing those two words on a little Rx prescription sheet gave me the permission and freedom to seek out activities (or space or silence) that would
Last Monday I decided to buy a bike rack for our car on Facebook Marketplace. If you’re not familiar with this corner of the social media universe, imagine Amazon taking over the classified section in your hometown newspaper. Got it?
Well, I found a three-bike hitch-mount Yakima rack for $105 plus shipping. Not
by the Ven. Mimsy Jones
As another school year gets underway, I am remembering teachers who formed as well as informed me, beginning with my eleventh grade English teacher whose name was Miss McGing but was known to us students as the Holy Terror.
Short and stocky, with the zeal of a prize-fighter, Miss McGing taught English with a fiery passion.