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Around eighteen or so years ago, my pastor told me to take a vacation.
Okay, he wasn’t talking exclusively to me. It was part of his sermon. I don’t remember much now, just that he spoke of the value of rest. Not long after that, I booked a trip to Captiva Island, Florida. Never let it be said that I don’t take direction well. Continue reading
Last weekend, I had the great good fortune to reconnect with someone I hadn’t seen since 1984. Back then, he was a high school student in the drama club I directed. Now, we’re both in our fifties, a notion I still find mildly shocking, but one I need to get used to since I’m bearing down fast on the day when only one of us holds that distinction. Continue reading
P. Jo Anne Burgh 