We never know what a new year will bring. We begin each New Year with the hope that it will be a good year.
As I think about the holidays, perhaps one of the most precious things about them is the memories. This past week was my 64th Christmas and I have accumulated many memories over the years of Christmases past.
You know fear, that dreadful feeling that grips your soul, puts your mind into high gear and either pushes you to shrink or puff yourself to look as if you’re a formidable foe?
Christmas is a time for charity. Special appeals by just about every charitable organization come in commercials in the media, over the phone, in the mail or by email.
I had just begun a visit with a Zach, a patient in the hospital when he blurted out “I just can’t imagine having to live this way.”
The search for meaning in life is a core aspect of what it means to be a spiritual being. It is one of the things that sets us apart from the rest of living things.
I recently read Timothy Keller’s book Counterfeit Gods, an insightful exploration of our human propensity to create gods of our own creation that we then worship instead of worshiping the one true God.
Here we go again – a long weekend, family gatherings, turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie – that’s pretty well the first thing folks think of when Thanksgiving approaches.
Over the years that I have been working as a health care chaplain I have had the privilege of serving many families that faced a terminal diagnosis of a family member.