I parked near the side entrance to the mall, snagging a spot as close to the door as possible. The weather was strange, and I hurried to get inside without the need of an umbrella. The automatic doors spread open, and suddenly the aroma of cinnamon enveloped me. No, not just cinnamon, cinnamon and butter.
I’m No Superstar
I’m No Superstar is a blog for people like me who want to make a difference in the world but know they aren’t activists. Each post contains a social action idea that most of us could do, a book that’s worth reading, or a link to a website that offers other ideas. Oh, and it’s all introduced by a sometimes quirky story from my life.
War. Death.Volcanic eruptions.Tsunamis.Destruction. It’s been a year. I didn’t grow up in a faith tradition that even acknowledged Ash Wednesday. (That was for those “liberal” mainline churches.) When my husband began pastoring, he began adding select services from the liturgical calendar to our church’s calendar. But even when we held an Ash Wednesday service, it
I didn’t call my brother Bob on Thanksgiving. I was on vacation, exploring Colonial Williamsburg, and he was in New Hampshire taking care of business at a Christian conference center. I didn’t know if he was spending the day with his wife’s extended family, or dealing with a maintenance issue on the camp property, but
I was scrollingthrough Twitterjust before thefirst Sunday of Adventand saw this tweet: That’s a cool idea, I thought. “The Hope candle burns the longest.” It makes sense that we need hope in our lives to burn the longest, to be there, alight, to the—hopefully not-bitter—end. We want it to carry us through. We need it
OUCH. Mass evacuations in Afghanistan—and those left behind. Earthquake in Haiti. Hurricane in Louisiana. Fires and drought out west. Oil slicks in the Mediterranean. Delta overwhelming hospitals and exhausting healthcare workers. Flooding in Europe and Tennessee (and possibly my county, which is under a flood watch as the Ida remnant rains pour down today). It