The Church at the Crossroads

Walter was a short, extremely thin, balding man with white hair, a scholarly beard, and thin round glasses.  He looked to be in his late 60’s.  His office was a small room full of books.  There were books everywhere: books on the shelves, books on the window sill, books on the floor.  The abundance of books struck me as strange since the dim lighting made the room a … Continue reading The Church at the Crossroads

An Everyday Decision

“What an asshole,” he ranted to himself as he pounded out an email on his laptop.  He sat at the kitchen table, his laptop jammed between the cluttered remains of dinner. It was spaghetti night. Four small, plastic, bright-colored, kid’s plates filled with hardening, half-eaten noodles were scattered about. Each accompanied by a red stained fork and partially finished plastic glass of milk. Spots of … Continue reading An Everyday Decision

A Letter to My Drug Dealing Neighbor

Dear Drug Dealing Neighbor Five Houses Down, While you and I have had only passing encounters, I consider you a friendly acquaintance. On occasion I’ve smiled and tossed a nod your way.  You’ve shown signs of recognition.  Once you even stopped my kid’s ball from rolling into the street.  It saddens me that we’ve never had a real conversation, especially now since I believe it … Continue reading A Letter to My Drug Dealing Neighbor

The Cross Shaped Room

(The image above found via Creative Commons) Sadness saturated the sanctuary’s air.  The room was designed to seat two-hundred people, but only eleven were present.  The church’s layout was traditional—pulpit at the intersection of a cross-shaped floor plan; five-row choir loft in the apse; worn, light brown pews filling the transepts and nave.  I sat to the right of the stage.  My two team members … Continue reading The Cross Shaped Room

A Father’s Daily Decision

“What an asshole,” he ranted to himself as he pounded out an email on his laptop. He sat at the kitchen table, his laptop jammed between the cluttered remains of dinner. It was spaghetti night. Four small, plastic, bright-colored, kid’s plates filled with hardening, half-eaten noodles were scattered about. Each accompanied by a red stained fork and partially finished plastic glass of milk. Spots of … Continue reading A Father’s Daily Decision