We arrived at the chapel to find Timothy’s casket sitting heavy at the entrance. This, yesterday morning when we had walked down the familiar green hill to the chapel, the university chapel of dark wood and century-old brick, a place the children have known as Sunday school for some years, a place now to say […]
Timothy Mugisha died in his mother’s arms Read More »
It’s morning in Africa and, as often, today started with reading and listening to Brahms while on the cross-trainer and enjoying the brightness of the day’s creation. And here the creation is now Zack, our new Young Dog, plus four new rabbits from Sam and his significant other, plus Bilbo, The Cat’s Girlfriend, so named
Morning in Africa with the animals Read More »
‘Don’t let your hearts be troubled,’ is what he said. ‘Trust in God. Trust also in me. My Father’s house has plenty of room.’ This is what Jesus told his friends. That he was going to get things ready. That he’d come back to get his friends when things were all set. He’d have to
Tim Bosma, dream house builder. Don’t let your heart be troubled. Read More »
It was in the garden where he talked to his Father. ‘Abba,’ he said, which is to say, ‘Daddy.’ ‘Daddy, I know you can do anything. And I know you can take this away from me. This cup. I know you can take it away. It’s too much. Too bitter. Too awful. Daddy. Please, Daddy,
The prayer of all prayers Read More »
It was early morning and you were crying. We were all in a mad rash heading out the door for school. ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked. ‘I’m not telling you,’ you said. And I thought that was fine, either way, telling me or not. Some things aren’t always meant to be shared at moment’s notice. But my dear Liz, just
Almighty Dad and our tears in his bottle Read More »
