This piece was written prior to yesterday’s terrorist attacks in Kabal, but has not been altered in response to them. 

Last Friday President Biden addressed the nation regarding the situation in Afghanistan as the United States ends its 20-year mission there.  A thousand wiser minds, along with some others, have commented on what the president had to say. I will leave the punditry and the politics to them.

Something the President said, though, has had me thinking all week.  About halfway through his remarks, Mr. Biden said, “Look, let’s put this thing in perspective here. What interest do we have in Afghanistan at this point with Al Qaeda gone?”

The “what interest do we have?” question is rhetorical.  The President believes we no longer have an interest in Afghanistan.

To paraphrase one of the President’s predecessors, however, it may depend on what the meaning of “interest” is. Continue reading →

Becky and I are just back from a week with our son’s family at the Air Force base where he is an active-duty chaplain.

Potty training with the three-year old is going well, the six-month old just learned to roll over both ways, and we read “Are  You My Mother?” to the two-year old dozens of times. And the six-, eight-, and eleven-year olds are dong are doing well. Despite the trip to the ER.

In answer to the question, “Was it worth it?” the answer, as always, is “absolutely.”  We help as best we can and love doing it.

But it is not potty training and Lego pirate ships I have in mind in asking the question.

Christopher serves as a chaplain, and while we were visiting, the chapel posted this on its public page: Continue reading →

About a year ago I subscribed to the digital edition of the Washington Post.  I was reading a bit more in retirement and wanted to make sure I was reading a balance of perspectives.  Along with the New York Times, the Post would hold down the establishment-left end of the things.  Besides, they offered me a great deal. $29 for the year which would jump to $100 for the next year, automatically charged to my credit card if I didn’t remember to cancel before the year was up.  They make their money off our bad memories.

As it turns out, my discount subscription to the Post was not the beginning of a beautiful friendship.  I don’t know if it is a Jeff Bezos thing or the Post’s corral of columnists, but the Post and I just didn’t hit it off. The Times is doing a good job of holding down the establishment-left end of my morning read, so I decided I would remember to cancel my Post subscription before I was out $100 for another year. Continue reading →

Probably every Christian of my generation knows the inspirational poem “Footprints in the Sand.” For awhile it was everywhere. Posters and plaques, tea towels and key chains, Hallmark cards and coffee cups all told the story of the person walking along the seashore with “the Lord” (whoever that may be) at their side.

The walk on the shore is an image of the person’s life. Looking back, the person sees two sets of footprints, the walker’s and the Lord’s, but then notices the times, difficult times, when there is but one set of prints.  The person questions the Lord as to why he seems to have left the walker alone in those tough times. The Lord replies, “When you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.”

If you need a refresher you can read a version of the poem here. Well, at least one version. It turns out that several versions exist and those claiming original authorship have sued each other for the credit, and, I suppose, the royalties. Continue reading →

Our hydrangeas in their summer bloom

Jack Thomas is a retired Boston Globe reporter. At 82 years old, he knows he is going to die. He knows he is going to die in a matter of months.

“After a week of injections, blood tests, X-rays, and a CAT scan, I have been diagnosed with cancer. It’s inoperable. Doctors say it will kill me within a time they measure not in years, but months,” Thomas writes in an essay published in the Globe last week.

In the essay, Thomas seeks to answer his own question, “How does a person spend what he knows are his final months of life?”

The preacher in me found three points in the text of his essay.  How does one spend his final months of life? Celebrating, remembering, and wondering. Continue reading →