Thank you for your letter. I miss you too, my friend, and yes, until then, letters will have to do. We’re gradually settling into a summer rhythm here, which is like past summers and is also unlike past summers. Each season’s a little different, huh? Will and Sarah are home from college. They’re both working for the school district this summer – Will on the mow crew, Sarah on the paint crew. Seeing them leave each morning together for work in their steel-toe boots with their lunch bags in hand is sorta sweet. Actually, its very sweet. Meredith and I requested two nights a week to be family-dinner gatherings and so far so good. We gather around our cramped kitchen table and catch up with one another. But I know its hard being off on your own, living by your own clock, and then have to merge back into a family affair.
I read a novel I believe you’d love. Its short, reads fast in my opinion, and tells the story of a good man. The owner of our local bookstore, I believe you met Tommie when you visited once, she told me about the book and described it in just that way – “its about a good man.” I think this has always been true, but it feels like now more than ever we need books and movies that tell of good men. There are so many public examples right now of the opposite of that…
I agree with what you said about the powers of this world, how they keep coming up short. And I further agree that Jesus is our one best hope. But I tell you, man, I’ve more than had it with boast and swagger badass jesus kickin’ tail and taking names. And then mystical-cosmicy jesus dropping Twitter koans on us? Give me a freakin’ break. Give me that old crucified, died, buried, and resurrected Jesus that shows us his scars and then says, “Its about forgiveness, my friends.” I realize that doesn’t sound very progressive, but if we’re not progressing in the direction of kindness, then count me out. HA, there’s me being preachy too. Well, some habits are hard to break.
I thought about you last night. I was sitting on our front stoop, reading Harrison, listening to my neighbor mow his grass. I absolutely love the smell of fresh cut grass, makes me think of my boyhood. Anyway, I came across a paragraph where Harrison and some buddies were out by a campfire and one of the men said, “Well, Romania wasn’t built in a day.” I laughed out loud, and thought “Winn would like that line.”