Standing at the kitchen sink,
I see out of my eye’s corner
the expiration date on the plastic lid:
the month and day of my father’s birth.
A year has passed since he breathed his last.
I held his hand and spoke and sang,
watching the mystery of his mouth and chest
until the rhythm suddenly ceased.
Each respiration is habitual gift,
usually unnoticed until gone ...
then there is only awe,
then there is only awe.
Mark A. Noll
On Death in December
A Deliberately Spiritual Thing
The Shape of a New Era: Valparaiso's Chapel of the Resurrection in
Suffering Unto Salvation in Wendell Berry's Jayber Crow
Martha Greene Eads
In Thy Light
O. P. Kretzmann
Love and Marriage: A Wedding Sermon
Creativity and Creation: A Lutheran Context for the Arts
Martin E. Marty
Beauty and Justice