Today when I went out to get the paper, I was smitten by the weeping cherry tree in the front garden. Its blossoms were like huge pink puff balls, swaying in a light breeze. It was May Day. The sun was vernally strong. But I was not here to admire a tree. I was on…
Category Archives: Daily Practice
Dead or Alive?
Are you dead or alive? Alive people are awake and aware—they’re open to the whole of human life. They’re open to receive all the gifts and joys and exquisite delights of human life—and they’re just as open to receive the suffering and the disappointment and the sadness. They can sit with that, too, and…
Twenty Four Tributes: For My Father Turning 94
On Saturday my father, Gerald Anderson, turned 94. My brother wrote a birthday email and copied all seven of us siblings and all the in-laws. He ended by listing five gifts that Dad has passed on to all of us. 1. That you know yourself to be loved by God, 2. That you have lived in…
The Lantern Never Lies
On the odyssey of life we need some way of knowing where we are, and whether we’re headed the right direction. In English, to be “oriented” is to know where east is. Historically, church buildings are situated so that the altar is on the east wall, and almost always a window opens to receive the…
Twelve Months to Live
Some years ago I was enjoying a Shrove Tuesday pancake supper, when a parishioner came to me and said, “I want you to meet a friend.” I could see a woman with white hair sitting at her table. We walked over, I shook her hand and said, “Hello, my name is David Anderson.” She said,…
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About the author
I’m a writing pastor, privileged to work among the people of Saint Luke’s Parish in Darien, Connecticut. I love this work. I spend my days with people who are trying to live lives of faith in a pretty forbidding world. I’m lucky—people talk to me, share their stories, nurse their doubts and questions, ask me how to find God when you’re so stressed you can hardly breathe. Mostly I listen, tell them they’re not alone. I don’t have many answers, but I love the quest. I sit in front of a screen and write my way to God. I never know where I’m going when I start, I just try to tell what amounts to a story. And when it’s true, the story takes me home.
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David Anderson
I’m a writing pastor, privilged to work among the people of Saint Luke’s Parish in Darien, Connecticut. I love this work. I spend my days with people who are trying to live lives of faith in a pretty forbidding world. I’m lucky—people talk to me, share their stories, nurse their doubts and questions, ask me how to find God when you’re so stressed you can hardly breathe. Mostly I listen, tell them they’re not alone. I don’t have many answers, but I love the quest. I sit in front of a screen and write my way to God. I never know where I’m going when I start, I just try to tell what amounts to a story. And when it’s true, the story takes me home. [Read more]
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About the author
David AndersonI’m a writing pastor, privilged to work among the people of Saint Luke’s Parish in Darien, Connecticut. I love this work. I spend my days with people who are trying to live lives of faith in a pretty forbidding world. I’m lucky—people talk to me, share their stories, nurse their doubts and questions, ask me how to find God when you’re so stressed you can hardly breathe. Mostly I listen, tell them they’re not alone. I don’t have many answers, but I love the quest. I sit in front of a screen and write my way to God. I never know where I’m going when I start, I just try to tell what amounts to a story. And when it’s true, the story takes me home. [Read more]
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