Finding Your Soul by David Anderson
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The Heaven of Bread
“Can you get that bread out of the oven?” Pam calls to me. “I think it’s done.” I open the oven door and a soft cloud of heat drifts over me. Then the smell wafts out, wave after wave—the yeasty aroma, the malted perfume, the toasted whiff of . . . I don’t know—heaven. Or…
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Just Drop It
Everybody talks about “letting go.” Then why don’t we? In October a delivery truck hit the stone wall at the entrance to our driveway, doing modest damage. For months I’ve been calling the company owner to respond to the repair estimate he requested. Every time I call, the receptionist says Ricky is out, but will…
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Behold, I Make All Things New
On the first day of the New Year I find myself sanding and painting two bedside tables. This was not my idea. We got them years ago at a church rummage sale, and they were old and beat up then. Maybe just call Amazon. But Pam suggested we simply paint the tops, and the two…
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The All-Clear From Heaven
Christmas means that everything is all right. As far back as 70,000 years ago, men and women were looking to the sky and wondering: Are we ok? Are we acceptable in the sight of God? Almost universally, they thought not. And so began the endless sacrifices meant to appease whatever God was up there. The…
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Love Story
For God so loved the world, he told us a story. Every Christmas Eve, my family would gather around the tree and my father would read Luke chapter two, King James Bible. I can still recite the first verse. “And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar…
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Christmas For The Desperate
My first Christmas out of seminary was in 1989 at Saint Luke’s Parish, Darien, Connecticut, and another priest on staff, Doug Ray, told me a story. Doug was standing in the narthex on a cold Christmas Eve and two good-looking young couples came to the door. Since the church was full and every folding chair…
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Saved By A Baby
There are not many memorable table blessings in Hollywood movies, but the funniest of all is from Talladega Nights. Will Ferrell’s race-car-driving Ricky Bobby always begins his prayers with, “Dear Lord baby Jesus, tiny infant Jesus.” Finally one night his wife interrupts his earnest invocation with, “You know, Jesus did grow up. You don’t have…
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Learn to Yearn
Pam and I have spent the past five days with our grandchildren. At seven and three, they can wear you out with their requests. They wake up wanting. They wish fervently for things and dream of happiness in the ultimate. “Papa,” my grandson will say, “if you could have any plane in the world [he’s…