The following is an excerpt from a meditation by Richard Rohr. He quotes Dr. Sally McFague.

The fourfold process from belief to action contains the following steps.

The new model of the universal self operates at both the personal and public levels, for instance in the planetary house rules: (1) take only your share; (2) clean up after yourself; (3) keep the house in good repair for those who will use it after you.

Sallie McFague, Blessed Are the Consumers: Climate Change and the Practice of Restraint (Fortress Press: 2013), xii-xiv.

He has a home filled with wonderful,
original visual art and he listens
to beautiful classical and great jazz
music when at home but lately he has
been spending quite a bit of time on
the road and it is taking it’s toll
on his artistic appreciation. He is
beginning to love the photos in plastic
frames on the walls of the motel rooms
and he keeps riding up and down in the
the elevators just to keep listening
blissfully to musak.

Are you old enough to remember
diagramming sentences? He has

forgotten what to call all those
parts of speech but he knows what

they are and where they go and
writes like he’s riding a bicycle.

Once you learn, you never forget.
He’s concerned that the basics

will be lost in this age of social
media and mostly he’s concerned

about what grammar school and high
school teachers will face and maybe

already are facing with kids who
don’t know how to ride the bike of

sentence diagramming and as he
peddles down the literary street,

he wonders once again about the diff-
erence between a gerund and a gerbil.

Oh, my goodness, your mother,
who prided herself in not letting

me know what her needs and
wants were and expected me to

know all those things, if I really
loved her (which, of course, I did)

and then your mother died and
now a quarter of a century later

you are playing the same game. I
don’t know what to do any more

than I knew what to do way back
then; I’m inclined to say, “I love

you and I don’t know what you
need because you are not telling

me and you are expecting me to
play the game which you don’t

see as a game and let me tell you
that I am not willing to play that

game but I am willing to hear you
and respond to you in love and do

what I can do, as a flawed human
being, to help you not only make

due but do the best you can do as
your incredibly precious you.”

Fundamental decency in Alabama won tonight
after an epic, “rule of law vs. lawlessness” political fight
for justice, inclusion, equality and LGBT rights.
Alabama shines tonight!

*Doug Jones, the Democratic candidate for the U.S. Senate,
in an election to fill the term of Jeffrey Beauregard Sessions,
won an upset victory over the Republican candidate, Roy Moore,
an alleged pedophile.

I’m so exhausted I can’t even
think straight and I fear I am
now condemned to watching The
Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3-D

nonstop for infinity or count-
ing over and over and over
Donald Trump’s lies during his
first year in office. At least

it seems that way. Until now,
we never had to clean out a
condo we have owned for twelve
years two thousand miles away

from home and now we have and
we are ready to get back on
the road after two offers fell
through and we are in the

motel and I’m thinking about
home and Willie Nelson and On
The Road Again is in my mind
and after a couple of glasses

of pinot grigio wine served up
in plastic, motel glasses and
in maybe six hours’ sleep, we
will be on the road again.

His father had all kinds of
issues given the fact that he
was orphaned in a strange

land at age thirteen and de-
parted the scene when his
son was just seventeen, but,

by the grace of God, perhaps
given his background, he en-
couraged his son to be all that

he could be and do all that he
could do in whatever field he
chose except that his father

did have a bit of a bias toward
the ministry and, low and be-
hold, his son became a minister

and got his doctorate and taught
for a bit in seminary as well as
having had a wonderful vocation

as a pastor, campus minister,
hospice chaplain and interim
minister over forty-five years.

All things considered, that en-
couragement, early on, meant
all the world to a seventeen-

year-old kid who had been
lost without his father but
grateful for everything his

dad did for him in those
few, short and in some
sense sad but glad years.

They traveled two thousand miles
on the assurance that the transaction
was a slam dunk and then they got
slammed without a dunk. They sat
in their condo with only the internet
and cable to keep them company
before they had to empty the place,
return the cable boxes which they
will do in two days before embarking
on a return two thousand mile trip.
Buying and selling used to take a
handshake. Now it takes an army
of attorneys and, due to the in-
credible advances in technology,
they now only have to stay on the
line for forty-five minutes before
speaking with a human who will then
begin the game of pass the buck
faster than a hot potato tossed from
camper to camper on a chilly week-
end camping on the closing weekend
of a state park back home, which
makes them homesick just thinking
about it.

We outran the Arctic cold
coming down from up north
spreading across the country.
Thank the Lord the sky was
clear all the way west. It
was nineteen degrees in Gallup
when we left for the Valley
of the Sun and sixty-three when
we got there only to be accused
by several people of bringing
the cold their way. Sixty-three
degrees Fahrenheit. Seriously?
Damn balmy. What’s wrong
with these people? Sun stroke?
Tomorrow? Seventy-eight in
December. Please, give me a
break. Of course, they were
kidding.

People who didn’t know me fifty years ago
think I look great and are kind enough to

say so. Those who knew me fifty years ago
or longer and see me again after all those

years exclaim, “What happened to you?” And
so it goes. I now pay attention to those who

say, “I can’t believe you are seventy-three.
You look great.” In appreciation, I humbly

say, “Thank you,” and then do a fist pump
and embrace my stylishly shaved head.