Community tagged posts
At least, I think it’s a reader, if not, I don’t know how he’d have found me. Even if he’s not, it’s a sort of universal question.
He said that he’d been in contact lately with a slave, and now he was interested in being more involved in the community. I am paraphrasing, since I don’t have permission to quote him, but that’s the gist of it.
First, I think that it’s a good and genuinely important thing to have some contact with the community. I know that the life I live is not for everyone, or even for many, but you can have some involvement without being totally immersed.
I want to say, too, that I think that online communities do count, even if they’re different than face-to-face.
I think that communities do a couple of things for us.
I think it matters enormously to have people wit...Read More
So I am officially thankful.
I am thankful that the dining room got put back together so the living room could get put back together so the kitchen could be put back together so we could do a Thanksgiving gathering.
It wasn’t a LOT of people, 14 in all, but any more would have been too tight, particularly when an actual meal was involved for about half of them, albeit in three shifts.
The food was good – I’m a good cook, and I have put on enough big meals that I know how to do it, how to make things come out at about the right time, etc.
My favorite part, though, was after the meal, or at least after the first shift of the meal. I knew it would be. It was the time when we were all gathered in the living room – a decent-sized room – and that’s always my favorite part.
The wo...Read More
I spent a good deal of years working in healthcare accounting. I understand cost reports and step-down allocations, volume and intensity based budgeting and reporting, and a lot of other boring things.
I used to think, on cold mornings especially, I wish I didn’t have to go to work, blech, I don’t want to go to work…
My drive to work took me by the Wayside Christian Mission.
Standing outside the doors as I drove off to my job was a line of people, waiting for the Mission to open, waiting to come in out of the cold, waiting for a hot meal, waiting for such small things that I took for granted.
It always made me ashamed that I had complained.
As crazy as my mother was, and as poor as we were, she gave me a clear understanding of how lucky I WAS.
I never went hungry; my mother did.
I knew t...Read More