Monday, August 4, 2014

Ecclesiastes 3:3

More than a decade ~ that's how long I've been blogging, under various names and titles in a couple of different places.  And now?  Now I'm making another move.

Ten years ago?  A joyful life.  Three teenagers, two of them mostly through their first year of college and the third busy with soccer and theatre and singing.  I thought I'd already made my own dramatic life change, from the practice of law to middle and high school teaching.  I was well aware that no one is immune to heartache and, in fact, we as a family had already known plenty of it, but I had every reason to think we might be able to avoid any recurrences for another decade, maybe even two. 

But as life has evolved, my blogs have chronicled the Spiritual Exercises, seminary, a spiritual direction certificate, a child's suicide, ordination, breast cancer, college teaching, and various venues of ministry. 

It's been a harrowing six years.  My son's death has overshadowed everything. 

In some ways, it always will.  I've been reading more than writing recently, and about the experiences of bereaved parents in particular. Five years, ten years, twenty, a lifetime.  The anguish is a like a Yellowstone geyser, always bubbling under the surface, always on the verge of erupting into the sky. The ground underneath your feet is always unstable; one innocent remark by a friend, and the fire singes your feet.  As far as I can tell, if you put some effort into it,  you can develop  advanced skills in silence and in changing the subject.  You don't progress in a straight line, though.

Surviving children, if you are lucky enough to have them, can save your life by living theirs.  Work  helps.  So do grandchildren, I am told.  God, for some people.

That said, I am ready to direct my writing down a new path. I miss some things.  I miss Chautauqua, I miss photography, I miss the wilderness, I miss travel. Not the way I miss Josh.  But I do miss them.

The new blog, not yet ready for prime time, is called Savor the Sacred, because that's where  I want to focus.  If it becomes something intolerably saccharine or sentimental, I'll give up.  But I think it's worth a try.

New url coming soon.


  1. Congratulations on a new step. Looking forward to the next phase of your writing! Thank you for your honesty about grief in a culture so afraid to touch loss.

  2. Looking forward to continuing to hear your voice and expressive writing.