Well, the blogosphere has officially captured three out of four of us flatmates, and hopefully the blogstravaganza to be known as Sweet Chicken will soon make its appearance and make it four for four.
Today, though, I am featuring the blogs of Lloyd and Jesse as they have recently written some good pieces, well worth sharing.
Following Breadcrumbs: Community, Grace, Feasting, & Whisky
Lloyd has written a moving, highly personal piece about suffering and hope.
And Jesse has come out of the blocks stong, with an evocative and thoughtful reflection on suffering around the world in places that are close to his heart.
Finally, perk up your eyes and keep your ears peeled for the forthcoming house blog from the residents of 715 A. Our agents are still in negotiations over its name.
she can feel its mass
getting heavier, denser
as the moments pass
sucking even light itself
into its dark maw
The man looked out at the sea and the sky, separated only by a thin line of grey. It was dawn. The grey spread upwards like a wash on a water color. It was followed by a wash of gentle rose, which infused the clouds with red, as if they sucked the color from the sky and concentrated it. The sea remained grey with gentle swells. Behind him, a hint of green began to seep out from the hills, and white dots that were sheep were becoming visible. The man stood on the beach of stones, smoothed to perfection by a billion cold washings, and held his face up to the wind. He wore a sweater made from the wool of the sheep behind him, and held a glazed mug from the village down the road to his face to take off the chill of the wind, as he waited for the sun.
It rose into the sky in thin concentric paintings of gleaming yellow spreading upward from the sea, spilling light onto the waves. He watched the last curve of its orb rise above the horizon through tears, which refracted light into a thousand glimmers in his eyes. He stripped off his clothes, and ran into the sea.
He had never been a gambling man, really. Yes, there had been the odd bet here and there, a quid or two on the footy matches. But that was safe stuff, wasn’t it. He wondered if that thing inside of you that makes you go all in was broken. He’d only done it once–gone all in, gone for broke, whatever you wanted to call it. He had put his heart down too along with the chips. And it had all ended rather badly, with him broke and broken. He was better now–or mostly so. But that bit that did the choosing, the bit that looked at the odds, then plunked down bets, seemed forever stuck on input, checking faces, counting cards, and broken beyond repair.
First day back on the bike.
For those of you keeping score at home, this is the third article in a row in Catapult, which in bowling terms makes a Turkey (i.e. three strikes in a row). As for whether this one or the last two are actually strikes or gutter balls, I’ll let you decide, if you can spare the time. Get it? “Spare the time.” Roomie Nathan will be proud.
The Clarity of a Dumpster
Other Catapult writings
The Creating Capital issue
Well, if you are citizen of Cardinal Nation (or just watch ESPN for that matter), you are likely aware that Senor Pujols went deep three times on Easter sunday, with the last time being in the bottom of the 9th inning to end the game. Brilliant.
His only home run that was more momentus? That would be the one in last year’s National League Championship Series against Houston, which brought the series back to old Busch Stadium, where unfortunately the Cardinals promptly lost.
Albert and Adi, who is my brother, actually met once, in a Dobbs somewhere in West County. They talked about what is most important to both of them: their faith. Pujols talked about ways in which he and other players deal with temptation on the road. Adi still kicks himself for not going and buying a baseball for him to sign; the receipt he did have Albert sign has long since been lost.
Yesterday, I had the privelege of listening to my brother preach for Easter. I am not the most impartial judge in this case, of course, and I don’t know the rightness of bragging on a sermon, but I like to think that Adi went yard too, in a sermon linking Isaiah 53, Gethsemane, and other events of Holy Week. And if you pay attention to the structure of the sermon, he went deep three times also. With three shots beginning in the Old Testament, flying through the New, and landing over the fence, smack down in our lives today.
Make sure you listen to Adi’s conclusion after the lovely hymn in the middle, which is part of the sermon. Oh yeah, and get your glove out.
Adi’s Easter sermon.
Adi’s other sermons.