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Ordinary Time XX

One of the central metaphors for my work and sense of vocation is a bridge. This summer I saw one of the most iconic bridges of the American imagination: Golden Gate in San Francisco, California. Both days we got close to the bridge it was shrouded partially in fog. Not unusual in the Bay area. Not unusual for the work of bridge building and walking.

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Ordinary Time XVI

One of the delights of my vacation this summer was building rock cairns along the way. The first I built were on the banks of the South Fork of the Kings River. We were at the far end of Kings Canyon National Park, the sometimes ignored sibling of Sequoia National Park. My family and I spent a long stretch of one late morning in the Zumwalt Meadow just tossing rocks in the river, wandering along the bank, staring up at brilliant skies.

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Advent V

On Thursday of this week I found myself stunned by beauty twice in an hour. Let me tell you about the first of those two moments. The evening before I’d been in something of a foul mood, feeling anger and disappointment, which can take their toll on a body. But the drive and conversation between St. Paul and Collegeville, Minnesota had tempered and mellowed me. I was open in mind and heart, relaxed in body, but I was unprepared for what lay ahead.

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