Waiting for death

Eyes open to the same brick wall.  How long has that been “my” wall? A year now?  two years?  Maybe three?

Breath for these bones

My grandmother reaches for my hand to steady herself as she inches from her bed each of these days.

Jet Setting with Jesus

This season has been full of plane rides for me.  On one of these trips, the blaring engine of flight 173 sent me into prayer.  Just then, my row-mate turned to me and said, "I want to be a Rabbi,"  and smiled in an idyllic way.  In his smile, two choices were set before me: