I approach religion as something I want to live with (and you will say, "No, I get it, but why?"), and you approach it as something you want to make sense of.
When I tell you that I am a Gnostic Baptist, it's not a lasting label. I haven't been anything long enough to safely (and sagely) say, "THIS I BELIEVE," with any sort of lasting conviction.
Who were the homestead wives? Who were the gold rush brides? Does anybody know? Do their works survive their yellow fever lives in the pages they wrote? The land was free, yet it cost their lives. -- "Gold Rush Brides," 10,000 Maniacs A lovely woman whom I don't remember meeting emails me periodically to check… Continue reading Suffering, Part 1: Margaret
One worries one starts too late in the evening to return home before dark; but maybe one isn't supposed to return home, and maybe one shouldn't mind the night.
My mom is 73 this year, pocked with Alzheimer's, haunted by ghosts and it can be tough to suss out from her description how many are phantoms of the mind, how many are figments of her imagination, and how many, if any, are visitors from some past Other Side. If they have a message for her, it must be frustrating. She won't remember it. "Well, your brother Michael's dead," she explained to my brother. This was after she and I had talked on the phone.
I'm going to tell a story about her, and it's a Gentlemen's Agreement story where we're going to agree, thee and me, that I am telling you the truth.