Where is home really? Where do we shelter when we are in unfamiliar territory? How do mere mortals do something transcendent? Which strangers will become friends that guide and walk with us? What does it mean to be someone’s mother or father? How do we keep children safe and raise them to adulthood? Struggle, displacement, uncertainty, identity, fear, perhaps longing for something easier or something past, all wrapped up in that humble nativity scene.
On our kitchen wall there is a framed piece of paper dated August 1944, curiously signed by Neptunus Rex with the assistance of his scribe,
On October 23rd, my father would have been 100 years old. Last year for his 99th, I flew to San Antonio with a suitcase full of
But, it is also true, that we were robbed – by circumstance, by uncertainty, by choice, and by chance – and I would give anything to live that last day over
Among those college friends with whom I stayed up all night, took spontaneous road trips, and wondered about all that the future would bring are
Last night I learned I would have to leave vacation with my family because my father, who I was just with for almost three