Writings
Pardon me if I exaggerate, but it sometimes seems as if everyone I know is either starting a diet, or breaking one. We have become a people preoccupied with poundage. There is a slice of conventional wisdom which says: “You can never be too rich or too thin.” But we know better, don’t we? Especially the part about being too thin. “Thin” kills….some of our brightest and some of our best.
Everybody wants to talk about the baby, but nobody wants to talk about the birth. Except, that is, a group of women around a coffee pot who figured they knew me well enough to inquire as to which details I did know, and which I didn’t. Their questions had to do with the gynecological details of the nativity story. Apparently, they had been talking about Christmas and drifted into the subject of childbirth. Either that, or they had been talking about childbirth and drifted into the subject of Christmas. More to the point, they were interested in birth trivia….matters of labor and delivery.
As dreams go, I am not one of those people who regularly records them….or even remembers them. Those of you who have made a wintertime visit to the parsonage (necessitating a need to take your coats to the second floor), know that there is no notepad on my nightstand. So when I suddenly wake from my bed, I write none of the things in my head. Which might be informing. But much too demanding.
