And now, I ask myself, “Why are black-eyed peas always served with pork?” Maybe it’s a Southern tradition or as regional as red beans and rice. Perhaps food, like language, has its own sort of culinary dialect. Maybe tradition, our sense of how to order things, is a human construct offering a feigned security we …
I live in the shadows, the shaded remembrances of my past, persistent guideposts and framers of the person I was, who I became and still to be. These shadows have names like Daniel, Mom, Dad, Buck, the “Elite,” Pat Majors and Jack Willis. There are places, too – a house on Rockmont Road, a bend …
“Put that in your pipe and smoke it.” Those words, from my mother, take me to an admission and a time when I knew little. These words came often when Mom had something true to say to me. I learned when she said it, there was no retort. Something similar happened in my faith journey. …
In the first hour of amazing grace, when the sweet sound appears and we know God is true, a seed is planted within. And if in that first hour we are unable to give rise to any coherent expression of this knowledge, when our joy overrides such attempts, the seed within takes hold, rooting and …
