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When your son is on the table
Despite the shadow side’s ability to break through in these trying moments, it doesn’t take much to bring me back to the beautiful reality of being Elliot’s father.
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To my son on his first day of school
I can’t stop crying. It’s all because of that damn Bubble Bobble. This morning your mother made me walk the plank. She wanted you to have the cleanest break possible on this day—your first real day of school—and at this stage you’re needier around her than you are with me….
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To a World We’ll Not Remember…
“To a world we’ll not remember When we’re old and tired…” -Better Oblivion Community Center, “Chesapeake” These days, we make most of our bigger decisions based on memory—actually that of our son. Last year, my wife and I took a four-year-old to Switzerland for two weeks. Two of our closest…
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Remembering Eugene Peterson
Eugene Peterson was, for me, a deeply rooted fruit tree against whom you could rest for shade, for support, for sustenance.
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All Shall Be Well
I said I needed a quick restroom break. It felt easier than explaining to my friend that I needed to go sit alone—away from him, away from everyone—in my car for a couple hours. At the time, I was being ushered to the opening dinner alongside hundreds of others. Standing…
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