A lone Mallard sits at the crest of the metal church roof quacking. Making such a racket as the sun breaks into the sky, I wonder if he has rooster-envy. Rather, I think, he is calling for his tardy mate. All at once the tilt of his emerald head is somehow familiar. I hear your voice in unison with his. “I am waiting for you.”

It quite impossible to contemplate Christ’s crucifixion on this gentle May morn. Doesn’t sorrow find each human life and too soon? Should we not bask in the goodness, the light, the love, while it avails its splendor? We will have plenty of time for suffering, and suffering will surely make time for us. For today, let us lay on the soft clover in the dappled sun. Let us walk lightly down the wooded trail, baring our breast to the golden sky. Let us be wild and free in this mo

Barren. Such a harsh word for a painful reality. Considered one of the three greatest sufferings in Ancient Israel. No consolation able to soothe the unending ache. Yet, Yahweh birthed an entire nation from Sarah’s empty womb. After the Messiah died, humiliated and broken, the men scattered and hid, defeated: sure that they had abandoned their lives in vain. Mary’s breathless announcement of the empty tomb inspired the New Way. A conclusion to prophetic visions that no one co