No, I’m not really writing
again, but I am thinking about Fred Skaggs this morning, as I sit in my living
room, drinking coffee, looking at our little Christmas tree, and…
Fred is a clergy colleague
and Virginia Gentleman. He called a few days ago, not exactly upset that I am
no longer writing, but disappointed, so much so that he gave me several ideas
of things I should ruminate on in print. That’s the way Fred is—he looks for
solutions.
The solution to my “problem,”
though, I think, is not writing, but not-writing. I suspect that I have used
words all my life to avoid The Word. Ironically, the words are a gift from The
Word.
I have always learned what
I was thinking, and sometimes what The Word was telling me, by reading my
words, reading what I wrote. I think that the challenge for me in my last days
is to learn to hear The Word without processing it into words.
Fred is already at that
point. He hears The Word, regardless. Maybe, perhaps after Christmas, I shall
be closer to that point, and feel comfortable about writing again. If not, I know
that Fred’s got my back, which is a gift in itself. Thanks, Fred, and Merry
Christmas… and to anyone who has stumbled across this site again, may the peace
of Christ and Christmas be with you.
JRMcF
If you don’t know where
you’re going, you might wind up some place else. Yogi Berra
