For people in Shreveport, Louisiana, Christian Service (CS) represents different things.
This column was adapted from a sermon preached by John Hulden at Trinity Lutheran Church in Moorhead, Minnesota, on Sunday, April 13, 1997...
If I had to choose one word to describe my friend Buddy
Gray, it would be relentless. He was an advocate on behalf of
homeless people in Cincinnati.
The phone call came as it does to many parents at some point in the growing-up years of their children. Colleen had fallen off the jungle gym at school, and could I please pick her up?
"Death sucks." Five years ago this was the opening of a eulogy by a minister for a mutual friend who died tragically.
At home, the best-known of
Sojourners' Washington, D.C.-based ministries is the
Sojourners Neighborhood Center, where Barb Tamialis has
served as executive director and
One day in early May I left Sojourners Neighborhood Center for about an hour to run to the post office and the bank.
I am going to begin this story, in a sense, where it ended, and where it will never end.
Nights are the worst. I toss and turn, seeking a blessed relief from consciousness that seems to come only at dawn.
Tiesha became nervous as Ann and I took her trick or treating through Columbia Heights. "I hope they don't shoot you two!" she said.
Every year, at our family reunion, one more seat of memories and laughter is empty.
"The door is locked!
When I tell people I live in Washington, D.C., a common reply is, "I'm sorry to hear that."
About five years ago, when my husband and I were hosting a gathering from our parish, a member of the group made a comment that caused me to flush with humiliation and anger.
I cut my political teeth on United Farm Worker grape boycotts in California's San Joaquin Valley.
I guess I am doin' all right. I'm studyin', and like the teacher says, it pays off.
As I yelled at Melissa and Gabriel for disobeying, a terrible contradiction flashed before me, but I beat it down, intent on winning this battle of wits.
In 1974, my family moved from Great Falls, Montana, to Visalia, California. All moves are difficult, but this one—falling between sixth and seventh grades—was particularly hard.
"Welcome to the 40s," a friend said to me on my birthday, "the old age of youth and the youth of old age."