we buried cousin phil in the desert yesterday.
the iconoclast. the unconventional. the contrarian. he was one of my best friends.
in the absence of a brother, phil -- and my other male cousin -- filled that role. and so it was with great sorrow and gladness that brian and i accepted the invitation to speak about phil at the services following the burial yesterday in tucson.
we shared stories and remembrances of phil with an overflow crowd, which included all of my family.
the show of family strength was impressive; the time with family was glorious, and served as a powerful reminder of the role of family in times of need and grief.
and now, home, separated from the strength in numbers and the joy and novelty of a family reunion, the grief is sharper. the numbness is wearing away to reveal the loss is real. i feel the sting.
it is a stark reminder of james' observation: we are but a vapor. with what arrogance we assume that we will have tomorrow to enjoy each other.
let us, then, appreciate the beauty of friendship and the gift of life we share today.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Monday, February 21, 2005
Friday, February 18, 2005
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Friday, February 11, 2005
Thursday, February 10, 2005
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
my newest deaconly purpose
since i've been relieved of my official assembly counting duties (i confess to still doing a little "freelance" counting when i can), this could be my newest passion for ministry: staying vigilant and watching for the "mystery worshipper."
Monday, February 07, 2005
the gallery of our psyche
greetings, fellow funegrans --
just finished reading a pretty cool book, in search of captain zero. basically its the tale of a surfer's road trip from ny to costa rica, combined with flashbacks to the author's days of smuggling weed. i recommend the read. entertaining.
perhaps my favorite passage is allan weisbecker's description of being on the north shore of oahu in 1969, when the biggest storm of the 20th century hit the island. (side note: if you haven't seen this storm depicted in the amazing documentary, riding giants, you must. required surf camp reading.) anyway, on that fateful december nite, he and his surfing bud christopher were sitting in their beachfront home, smoking bowls of hash while homes around them were being evacuated. so he writes,
i love that concept of images hanging in the gallery of our psyche. a quick review of my psyche's gallery reveals a few beauties. in one wing are images of eric and d.a. riding harleys into an impossibly large new mexican sky. my son experiencing the pacific ocean for the first time. jeff and dale paddling their yellow surfboards with great urgency up the face of a massive 15 foot wave in mexico. watching ted's feet slip out from under him on stage. sharing a high altitude rock and a prayer with kris.
what's hanging in your gallery? what's your masterpiece?
just finished reading a pretty cool book, in search of captain zero. basically its the tale of a surfer's road trip from ny to costa rica, combined with flashbacks to the author's days of smuggling weed. i recommend the read. entertaining.
perhaps my favorite passage is allan weisbecker's description of being on the north shore of oahu in 1969, when the biggest storm of the 20th century hit the island. (side note: if you haven't seen this storm depicted in the amazing documentary, riding giants, you must. required surf camp reading.) anyway, on that fateful december nite, he and his surfing bud christopher were sitting in their beachfront home, smoking bowls of hash while homes around them were being evacuated. so he writes,
around midnight . . . christopher opened the door, which faced side-shore, then stepped onto the porch and looked seaward. like a bad actor in a low-budget horror flick, he immediately sprang back inside, slammed the door and spread his arms against it, as if attempting to bar the entrance of an approaching monster. there are moments in one's life that become frozen in time, images hung in the gallery of the psyche. that tiny fraction of time, that image of christopher leaning backward against the door of our house on the night of december 4, 1969, his mouth hanging open in dunderheaded disbelief, is surely a masterpiece of my collection.
i love that concept of images hanging in the gallery of our psyche. a quick review of my psyche's gallery reveals a few beauties. in one wing are images of eric and d.a. riding harleys into an impossibly large new mexican sky. my son experiencing the pacific ocean for the first time. jeff and dale paddling their yellow surfboards with great urgency up the face of a massive 15 foot wave in mexico. watching ted's feet slip out from under him on stage. sharing a high altitude rock and a prayer with kris.
what's hanging in your gallery? what's your masterpiece?
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
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