I worry that Jesus drinks himself to sleep when he hears me talk like this.

...most of the time, all you have is the moment, and the imperfect love of the people around you.

He got me a cup of tea with honey, toast with honey, yogurt with honey, like I was John the Baptist with the flu.

...[T]here should be a real sense of your imagination and your memories walking and woolgathering, tramping the hills, romping all over the place. Trust them. Don't look at your feet to see if you are doing it right. Just dance.

Life does not seem to present itself to me for my convenience, to box itself up nicely so I can write about it with wisdom and a point to make before putting it on a shelf somewhere.

My theology is based on what I tell my Sunday-school kids - that they are loved and chosen, AS IS, now, today. That the moment is holy, sacred, and all there is - and that we are only as sick as our secrets. So TELL IT.

I am learning slowly to bring my crazy pinball-machine mind back to this place.