Contemplative Prayer-Seeing the Son of Man

On the day after my first son was born, I stood at the discharge counter; only KJ wasn’t going home.  We needed to transfer him to the children’s hospital trauma center.  The night before a kind doctor had explained to us that our son was a very sick little boy, needing 3-4 operations the first…

Contemplative Prayer-In Whose Arms?

For contemplative prayer to be grounded, it relies on two movements of faith.  The first happens when we reach for the person of Jesus Christ in his invitation to “come.” In my mind’s eye I see his arm stretched toward me, the same way it was stretched on the cross and nailed in place. His…

Contemplative Prayer-On whose terms?

After 42 and a half years learning every aspect of prayer, I’ve decided contemplative prayer is the key to opening up vast spiritual understanding, deepening my love for God, and prying open a door to mystery which builds love between lovers, the same way secrets do between those in whom we share them. Unless we…

The Power Of An Endless Life

The night I received Christ I returned to my dorm room and looked at the large framed picture hanging over my desk. In it a man stretched himself over a cliff to save a lamb caught on a ledge.  I had bought the antique print several years before. But in that moment, for the first…

The Fast Cheetah Doesn’t Win!

Our three-year old granddaughter, Willa, announced to us the other day, “we can’t go outside!”  When I asked why, she said, “there’s a fast cheetah out there!”  “Oh my,” I gasped, playful, as I stared at the phone screen into her saucer eyes and puckered lips. “Who told you that?” “Mommy!”   “She’s right, there…

A Beggar, and the beauty of Advent

I was standing in line for coffee, when to my left appeared a homeless man. His stench overwhelmed a normally aromatic space. People fidgeted, and he went straight to the counter, leaned in and spoke with the manager. I overheard him ask for a cup of coffee. The manager shook her head, and the beggar…

Lap Time With Dad

“Ruk” “No, Kevin, it’s “t”ruk.” “Ruk” “Listen very carefully….T.t.t.t.t…ruk” “Ruk” “Can you say “T.?” “T” “Good, good, now “truck.” “Ruk” My father was a patient teacher. There on his lap, up in the ‘’off limits’ living area where my parents entertained guests. Sitting wide eyed, listening to him coach me in my diction. I was…

A Christmas Paradox

What king would stoop so low, As to touch a bed of straw? ‘No prince I know would have the gall!’ Yet, true the prophets said it so, A king would be born one night. ‘But in a pauper’s plight?’ A cave, a cold dank thing it was There bundled in the gloom. ‘Bah, Just…