Grace in the small moments

I sat at a booth in the diner, chatting with the stranger across from me while the scent of rich coffee wafted past. Both of us, neither knowing the other’s name, were having a lively debate about a banal topic: Pacific Northwest winter weather. He was waiting for his to-go breakfast order to be ready, and so was I. We were surrounded by twinkling Christmas lights, decorations, and a fair amount of holiday cheer – fueled by the excellent coffee served at this little, small-town diner. 

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Three weeks, one day

Three weeks, one day.

These days, I measure the passage of time based on my father’s passing. In these subsequent 22 days since his death, grief has taken its place in my life like a shadow. My only real reprieve is for a few hours of work each day when I’m so immersed in the crazy world of employee relations that I can compartmentalize my pain.

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Learning Shabbat

I’m five weeks into my “official” study of Judaism (official because I’m under the tutelage of a rabbi) and every single week, I learn something new or discover something about myself and my own beliefs that tells me I’m on the right path.

My biggest realization, thus far, is two-fold: 1) I’m completely falling in love with Shabbat; and, 2) Shabbat preparation is challenging.

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Why I’m hitting the “pause” button on my involvement in Christianity

This post is hard for me to write, but it’s a long time coming.

I’ve spent the last several years on a spiritual journey, and I’ve ended up in a lot of dark corners, dead ends, and places that feel suspiciously like Knockturn Alley (from the Harry Potter universe.) I always enter a new part of my journey hoping with a sincere heart that, this time, I might find the answers I seek. So far, though, I only end up with more questions or, as I’m facing now, total disgust in the journey itself.

I’ve made many posts about my spiritual journey (here, here, here, and here just to select a few) so I’m not going to rehash all of it. To boil where I’ve been so far down to a single sentence, let me just say that I’ve been from one end of Christianity to another and, through all of it, I have continued to try to be a good Christian because that’s what’s expected of me. I’m from the Midwest, where conversations about Jesus flow as frequently as discussions on corn prices and the state of the summer crops. Being a Christian is expected. Asking someone where they go to church is as normal as asking about the weather. However, the reality is that I’ve reached the end of the line now and it’s time to make some changes. To put it simply: I’m out.

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