The Runner
Several years ago, I told a story about a runner, I imagined that he was me, on his morning run in New York City. He was up very early, laced his shoes and slowly found his way out the door. His run started quite slowly, his legs were heavy, he was still sore from his long run on Saturday. His training course carried him through Central Park. The feeling of fall is in the air. The New York Marathon is now 8 weeks away on November 3. As he continued along the course, he pushed the pace, his breathing was labored, uncomfortable. He was focused on his training schedule, thinking about the finish time required that he might qualify for the Boston Marathon in the spring. Would this finally be the year that he could qualify? He finished the run, grabbed a quick shower and a bite to eat, then off to work in the North Tower of the World Trade Center. The date: September 11, 2001.
What’s the first thing you think of when you hear of falling towers and people dying. I think for many of us, our minds jump right to 9/11. Why us? Why here? Why now? All questions that certainly filled people’s minds and troubled the hearts of many of us who stood in shock and horror as we watched the events unfold that day.
Read More
Faith and Trust
When I was a kid, despite our not having much money and living in the middle of the state, my parents bought a 30-foot sailboat. We only had that boat a few years, and those adventures are among my favorite memories.
One of my very best memories was the night we sailed from Stuart, Florida to West End on Grand Bahama. Grand Bahama is about 80 miles from Stuart, if you could go straight there. That line is called the “rhumb line” – R-H-U-M-B – which is the direct line on a map between your point of origin and your destination.
But a straight line is not how the ocean works, especially not for a sailboat. You have to deal with an array of variables: wind, currents, tides, and other boats. And between Stuart and West End, the Gulf Stream flows like a river that is 30-50 miles wide. You can’t go straight there.
Read More
Legacies of Faith - Remembering Chip Thullbery
In the spring of 1983 in the northeast, I had not seen the sun since the previous perhaps November. I was in my second year of seminary and my spirit, in my Florida born and raised self, was sagging. One of my apartment mates pulled out some acrylic paints she dabbled with from time to time.
“Let's paint something!” she said. Though I had no eye to see things and re-create them in an artistic way, I joined in for fun. In a bit of nostalgia, I painted the back deck of my mom and dad's home, which later became Chip's home, (on Campbell Ave) from the perspective of one sitting in the back room and looking out over the deck and back yard.
Read More
