It's hardly Advent's fault that Hurricane Michael dampens our Christmas spirit, whatever that may in other years have been. Nor is it my fault that it's miserable freezing cold in this apartment, the ceiling ten feet away so I can't reach the air conditioning vent to close it. Today, if they have them at WalMart, I'm going to buy a couple of space heaters to warm this huge bedroom in our beautiful new condo at Rosemary Beach.  We are on the third floor overlooking US98, empty of traffic this early morning moment, and everything is worth it to have come further up and further in to enjoy more space and grace.   There are several buildings here, with minor construction underway on the balcony rails, so we'll be in this apartment until December 15 then leave so repairs can be done on this building, and move to an adjacent building where the repairs are finished, supposedly staying there to mid-March 2019.  Last evening we walked across the street to a loud, p...

Summer 1969 we moved into our new Windsor Park home in Chula Vista at San Diego, and immediately set about sprigging ice plant across the front garden, yard, a small patch of packed dirt that became mud with any amount of rain. We also brought in other plants, bougainvillea to spread over the latticed entryway from street to front door, spreading quickly and lovely in bloom, hanging down, making us feel very much at home. Tree, we planted a small eucalyptus tree; its leaves most fragrant, and the one time I drove by the house years later, must have been about 1982, I was gratified to see that it had grown quite large. The ice plant also spread quickly, succulent leaves and always colorful with small, beautiful flowers of various colors, we sprigged because, with me at sea most of the time, and deployed to WestPac the last two months of 1969 and first six months or so of 1970, we did not want to spend time tending a lawn. It was a popular and pretty ground cover. What we soon foun...

Okay, look, I love Father Richard, and, no Ifs, Ands or Buts, I'm not making fun of anybody; If, And, or But this morning twenty-one floors above PCB's sugar white sand, roaring surf, and the bitter cold predawn darkness of Wednesday, November 28, the lights of a large ship a couple miles offshore, I open my email, the first thing to catch my eye is his daily meditation, which I eagerly open only to find it's share a cup of tea with Goldie. See, I'm not a spiritual person, nor contemplative, and what I hear in the background while reading this is spooky music. Advent must be here already, four or five days early. Read this: ++++++++ Joy proceeds from the inner realization of union with God, which descends upon us at ever deeper levels as we walk our faith journey. This deepening is the goal of Christian contemplation and is the heart of perennial wisdom from every faith. This is how contemplatives “know” things: The soul itself is an image of God, to which God is so...

Early morning text from son Joe reports that he arrived in Dublin and is on his way to his hotel in a Skoda Octavia Diesel. Joe is an engineer with a company that designs and manufactures aircraft interiors for airlines around the world. They have a factory in Ireland, and engineers from headquarters are sent over to check; it's Joe's turn, this is his second time. He's also been to Seattle a few times when their new interiors were being installed in Boeing aircraft for their clients.  Usually the trips are a little over a week long. Last time in Ireland he had a Prius as I recall. This time a Czech car, a Skoda diesel.  I shouldn't and it's no longer so because the USSR is a generation gone, but cars from behind the Iron Curtain have a place in my mind that's fairly well discussed in this article https://jalopnik.com/what-it-was-like-to-buy-and-own-a-car-in-the-ussr-1783136956  and I remember the Yugo, both the car itself and the jokes. A car that d...

You've got to accentuate the positive Eliminate the negative Latch on to the affirmative Don't mess with Mister In-Between Some may remember the song, Johnny Mercer lyrics, sung by Bing Crosby in the nineteen-forties while the War was still going on, 1944, 1945. It came to mind as part of my hurricane recovery effort and seems to show up every morning in the shower. Though I don't shower sing anymore as loud as at the Old Place, where my shower had an outside window and I could see the Bay and my main shower song was Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and smile, smile, smile. Singing with self beats commiserating with self, and a psychiatrist might write a report on me from my unconscious shower songs, but I should care less.  Johnny Mercer reportedly got up the song after hearing Father Divine (scroll down to link for a treat, what a character. Jim Jones of kool-aide fame took after Reverend Major Jealous Divine) preach a sermon. Last evening to bed early, ...

For the grand finale games of the regular season, yesterday I was super-primed for two long, long overdue CFB victories, one of which came to pass as UF trounced FSU 41 to 14. The other was a visit to every horror of the NT book of Revelation as OSU the Beast tossed Michigan into the Lake of Fire, though at 39 to 62 neither defense has bragging rights. Next year in Jerusalem and all that. Clemson, Alabama and Georgia did as expected.  Today in church is the last Sunday of the church year, now set as "Christ the King", (put the comma where you will, I don't care) before next week we go into church year C with the First Sunday of Advent. A chief identifying feature of Year C is that most of our gospel readings will be from Luke.  Our second reading this morning is from Revelation John's introduction to his bizarre book, The Apocalypse (scroll down). Revelation is one of my favorite Bible books, because it makes for such fascinating Bible study in group seminars. ...

The Collect A lmighty and everlasting God, whose will it is to restore all things in your well-beloved Son, the King of kings and Lord of lords: Mercifully grant that the peoples of the earth, divided and enslaved by sin, may be freed and brought together under his most gracious rule; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. What frankly comes to mind every time someone deigns to pronounce the will of God … One of, if not The, most foolish things I have ever heard spoken is “Everything that happens is God’s will”. The first time I specifically remember hearing it, I was standing at the rear of a hearse as pallbearers lifted, pushed and then rolled into it the casket of a young man who had committed suicide. She said it to me as a corrective. We had just finished his funeral during which, in my homily as officiant, I had assured the boy’s parents, in their desolating grief, that the death of their son was not God’s will for the life ...

Writing big so as to take up more space because of not especially moved to speak this morning. A full stomach and full heart from Thanksgiving Dinner down at the other end of PCB for family reunion, forty people at the rented house for visit and tasty vittles.  Picture taken after dinner, I haven't counted those who came outside for the picture, you can do that if you wish, but this may be the first such family event either since my father died in 1993 and certainly since mama died in 2011. The gatherings were always good at the big house, the Old Place. Obsessed with people's privacy, my own privacy and especially the privacy of folks I love, I don't mind other people's business, but saw only love, saw nothing of the negative that one hears and reads about when families get together. I may be naive, blind to reality, but it was all good. Many outgoing, some shy and quiet. How many generations present? I think four generations.  And a suitable house, ten or el...

Even if and though much so-called spiritual writing moves me to screaming tears, impatience and sleep-inducing boredom, I usually appreciate and enjoy Father Richard Rohr's daily meditation. Maybe it's because he is not closed-minded, often brings in thinking from other disciplines, RC, other Christian and non-Christian, and I relate to his open Franciscan perspective, which to me is real, and reasonable religion instead of woo-woo-woo drift off into the ozone Share a Little Tea with Goldie.  Like others in this week's series, his piece today, about experiencing "some form of death—psychological, spiritual, relational, or physical"  is personal and relatable for us who are still spaced-out in the war zone left behind by Hurricane Michael. The outside world, and we see that it is truly "outside" to us now, goes on, moves on no longer mindful of us; while our streets and roads are still cluttered with storm debris, our houses still trashed and ruined, un...

Thanksgiving Eve breakfast then: mug of coffee, one slice ww toast wrapped round half slice yesterday's bacon. Sitting in a lawn chair brought in from the 17th floor balcony, back to the sliding glass door that separates me from Wednesday's black, chill November predawn. It's like a January day here, seems unseasonally cold. Thanksgiving in my memory is Time for a Florida Gulf Coast boy still to go barefoot on the green grass. Across the Bridge to town for a few minutes yesterday, check mail, check 7H, in the garage start two cars, mine and Malinda's. Next time, maybe Friday, drive both of them around the garage a couple turns for sake of the tires, which are new and shouldn't be left weight-on in one position for so long. But then, lots of facts and things shouldn't be these days. Nice light lunch at Alice's, romaine lettuce with blue cheese dressing and diced tomato, only to arrive back here and read the dotgov forbid on romaine. But I'm good so ...

It occurs to me this morning that how one uses one's Time during Times like this signifies  - - no wait, back up, not during Times LIKE this but during THIS Time, which is specifically Singular, Unique, Only, Unknown and, Unexpected, is Uncharted at this stage of Life, especially if one suddenly realizes that one has been oblivious of the fact, signifies greatly: wake up, bonehead, how are you using your Time? Is it Wise Investment or General Use - - or the Waste that is such a shame when indeed "Life is short, and we haven't much Time ... "?  This is personal of course to each one of us, we meet them in the elevators and ask "Are you here on vacation, are you tourists?" and the unvaried response "No, we're from Panama City, we're refugees from The Hurricane, how about you?" And in my case in this Unplanned Time that any other Time would/could be a bit of heaven seventeen stories high on the Florida Gulf Coast looking in one direction ou...

This is never off-the-cuff, you know, we clergy write these things down, starting inside our heads early in the week, slowly but eventually progressing to the sheaf of papers we bring into the pulpit.  By my bishop’s loving choice for me, I went to Lutheran Theological Seminary, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, where I acquired a Lutheran’s devotion to 16th century reformer Martin Luther, including Luther’s dedication to preaching. Luther said, “I hate a long sermon.” Luther advised, “You climb up into the pulpit, open your mouth, and then stop and get down.” Luther was said to spend all day Saturday writing, condensing, polishing his Sunday sermons, Saturday being hell for his wife and children, whom Luther despotically required they be still and silent, quiet as mice while he studied and prayed and thought and wrote.    When I was a parish priest I started my sermon every Sunday afternoon a week early, read the Scripture for the following Sunday, and through the week eight...

Good morning, friends and neighbors and self. The pictures are from last evening's sunset here Gulf front at Panama City Beach.  Up at 3:30 AM rechecking to make sure this morning's sermon is both reasonably as I mean it and decent. Supply Priest, Preacher, and Adult Sunday School mentor at HNEC today's morning will be long for me, and by noon I will be worn and done! Nevertheless, I love doing this in retirement, the good, fun and best part of being the parish priest that I was the second half of my life. My sermon, homily if you will, will be posted here on my +Time blog later, early afternoon. Its title, if I must title it, which I don't have to if I don't want to, is "Michael Hurricane, Michael Angel & Hope." For now, here's today's meditation from Fr. Richard Rohr, a true Franciscan All Things New Sunday, November 18, 2018 Behold, I make all things new.  —Revelation 21:5 As I’ve recently faced my own mortality th...

Six of us are living here, or did I already write that, Linda, Malinda, Ray, Britany, Lilly and me, in this 17th floor condo out beyond the "Y" that is Highway 79. Hurricane Michael brought, has brought, is bringing change, will continue to bring change in our lives, maybe for the rest of, who knows, IDK.  This is a great spot, lovely , the difference is purely psychological, that nobody likes being forced out of their home and just so with me; but if I take control of my psyche and forget about the troubles, inconveniences actually, back in StAndrews and with 7H, no doubt I can go with this as long as required. For October we had a different condo, and next, the week after Thanksgiving, we are to move on from here to yet another condo, at Rosemary Beach. Not Gulf front, it will be a new experience for us, wandering around there, seeing and enjoying whatever is. Meantime, online this morning, memories called forth, the first, actually, post-war car was the 1948 Hudson...