Category Archives: Fathers and Sons

Forever Swallows Every Never

Posted on October 4, 2018 by Mark

Maybe no word has more power to crush us than “never”.  It can slide into our lives at almost any age. The hearts of parents break when they watch kids realize they will never be a great athlete—never play for … Continue reading →

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Common Grace: My Dad, Harry James, and All That Jazz

Posted on January 18, 2018 by Mark

My dad loved jazz. Growing up, I never thought this strange even though in those righteous days Nazarenes didn’t smoke, drink, attend dances, or go to movies. It seemed there were more things we didn’t than did. Jazz, of course, … Continue reading →

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Moths and a Curious Gift

Posted on October 19, 2017 by Mark

A full bladder when one is camping in a tent a long walk from the bathroom is never welcome. It meant a roll and wallow to get out of the sleeping bag and slip on sandals and then a hunt … Continue reading →

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Not Betrayed

Posted on August 4, 2017 by Mark

This last week I have been haunted by some Bible verses that warn against betraying our children.  In Psalm 73 Asaph speaks candidly about how he almost stumbled because he envied the prosperity of the wicked. He describes how they … Continue reading →

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Of Butterflies and Brothers

Posted on July 27, 2017 by Mark

Last weekend my oldest brother and I went to Iron Mountain in Siskiyou Mountains to look for unusual plants and butterflies. Stanley is 73, ten-years older than I. Because he was older, we did not do much together as children, … Continue reading →

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My Jewish Son and the Holy Spirit

Posted on February 26, 2017 by Mark

Six years ago, my oldest son, Peter, found himself hanging out at a Jewish summer camp in Rhode Island. The job he thought he had didn’t materialize, but he did some work and spent time talking to the rabbi as … Continue reading →

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In Memory of Beatrice Wilson

Posted on December 19, 2016 by Mark

What words can capture Mom’s life? I need orchestras and choirs, the roar of the ocean and the sound of her lone violin in a country church. But here are my words—my loaves and fishes broken, and I hope, blessed. … Continue reading →

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Poured Out

Posted on May 1, 2016 by Mark

Again this morning, I walked my Mom across the street to the church for the pre-service prayer meeting. It isn’t far, but these days she is afraid to walk it without an arm. She is wobbly. And forgetful. But once … Continue reading →

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My Father’s Coat

Posted on September 12, 2015 by Mark

One day a young man came to the court of King Arthur and begged to be made a knight. Although a fine looking man, he wore a tattered coat. He introduces himself as Brewnor of the Noyre, but Sir Kay … Continue reading →

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Calling (Why I Write)

Posted on January 18, 2015 by Mark

When I was a boy, I didn’t always welcome the call to dinner, especially on long summer days when busy building tree houses in the sycamores or playing ball in the street. In the cold dusk of winter, I came … Continue reading →

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