שלום
Three-five-one a.m.! In the past three weeks both of us engaged my at least half-century habit of awake and up early. I remember first doing it when USS Tripoli was tied up to the pier at Danang, now Ho-Chi-Minh City, wake, dress and topside to watch American warplanes firing missiles or lobbing bombs into "enemy" positions so high in an adjacent mountain that while I could see the explosion's flash, all I could hear of it was a faint "thump."
And to think that later yesterday I read an old piece, then added its link to yesterday's blog, about Anthony Bourdain that, in telling about his life, said his favorite city on earth was Hanoi. Here's that link again for anyone who cares to go there to read about a fascinating man, perhaps better understand his suicide. https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2017/02/13/anthony-bourdains-moveable-feast
Strayed from my "up early" opening, sorry.
Of war and life in general, this morning my waking consciousness focused on two words for reasons that may be obvious at least to me: gratitude, and certainty. Gratitude surely because of my overwhelming feelings about our recent near-disaster and my gratitude for deliverance from it, all about Malinda and what's come of it so far, halfway through the miracle. For "God moves in mysterious ways" and all that proceeded from that including medical science as well as love and prayers of so many friends, loved ones and strangers, my gratitude stretching from heaven and across, around, earth. Gratitude, including spiritually that Father Steve came and spent two days, that also retired old friend Father John Phillips and Ann came last Sunday not only with Holy Communion but also with treats scooped from coffee hour at Christ Church, Pensacola, which holds fond memories for me and where also my grandfather's brother, my great-uncle, the Rev. C K Weller served as priest while the Rev Dr Henry Bell Hodgkins was away as Navy chaplain during
World War Two. Gratitude. Gratitude too for Gentry-side cousins who kept up online with our adventure and also who came to visit. And again, love and prayers from you.
Not to go on overly long, but still Gratitude. Thirty years ago a friend who had emigrated to Apalachicola from Wisconsin said, in a Sunday School or Bible Study discussion of "sin" (this is related to our gospel for today and therefore to my sermon for this morning) said the greatest sin is ingratitude. Has merit, thinking both vertically and horizontally, both theologically and mundane. So much so that the possible truth of it has ever since shaken my own certainty that the greatest sin is certainty. As certainty has justified hatreds and wars and unspeakable cruelties toward our neighbor throughout human history. All that in my mind upon waking this morning and seeing those American warplanes dive toward enemy positions in the mountains high above Danang Harbor. In terms of human life it was a long time ago, and now we are friends with the unified nation that was our national enemy then; but in God's time, as yesterday when it is past (Ps 90).
Seems like I really had a different destination in mind for this morning's blogpost, for certain not Danang or Hanoi, but if so I've forgotten where it was.
Peace, pax, Εἰρήνη ὑμῖν, shalom שלום
My peace this morning is about a little girl's dance recital yesterday.
T
And to think that later yesterday I read an old piece, then added its link to yesterday's blog, about Anthony Bourdain that, in telling about his life, said his favorite city on earth was Hanoi. Here's that link again for anyone who cares to go there to read about a fascinating man, perhaps better understand his suicide. https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2017/02/13/anthony-bourdains-moveable-feast
Strayed from my "up early" opening, sorry.
Of war and life in general, this morning my waking consciousness focused on two words for reasons that may be obvious at least to me: gratitude, and certainty. Gratitude surely because of my overwhelming feelings about our recent near-disaster and my gratitude for deliverance from it, all about Malinda and what's come of it so far, halfway through the miracle. For "God moves in mysterious ways" and all that proceeded from that including medical science as well as love and prayers of so many friends, loved ones and strangers, my gratitude stretching from heaven and across, around, earth. Gratitude, including spiritually that Father Steve came and spent two days, that also retired old friend Father John Phillips and Ann came last Sunday not only with Holy Communion but also with treats scooped from coffee hour at Christ Church, Pensacola, which holds fond memories for me and where also my grandfather's brother, my great-uncle, the Rev. C K Weller served as priest while the Rev Dr Henry Bell Hodgkins was away as Navy chaplain during
World War Two. Gratitude. Gratitude too for Gentry-side cousins who kept up online with our adventure and also who came to visit. And again, love and prayers from you.
Not to go on overly long, but still Gratitude. Thirty years ago a friend who had emigrated to Apalachicola from Wisconsin said, in a Sunday School or Bible Study discussion of "sin" (this is related to our gospel for today and therefore to my sermon for this morning) said the greatest sin is ingratitude. Has merit, thinking both vertically and horizontally, both theologically and mundane. So much so that the possible truth of it has ever since shaken my own certainty that the greatest sin is certainty. As certainty has justified hatreds and wars and unspeakable cruelties toward our neighbor throughout human history. All that in my mind upon waking this morning and seeing those American warplanes dive toward enemy positions in the mountains high above Danang Harbor. In terms of human life it was a long time ago, and now we are friends with the unified nation that was our national enemy then; but in God's time, as yesterday when it is past (Ps 90).
Seems like I really had a different destination in mind for this morning's blogpost, for certain not Danang or Hanoi, but if so I've forgotten where it was.
Peace, pax, Εἰρήνη ὑμῖν, shalom שלום
My peace this morning is about a little girl's dance recital yesterday.
T