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Have you ever enjoyed fresh coconut? I mean really fresh coconut– as in, you cracked the coconut yourself and drank the milk and scooped or scraped out the sweet flesh? I was thinking of nuts that are hard to crack recently, because I’ve been feeling like one.
My mother died recently, just after I returned home from vacation. At 92 it was not entirely unexpected–though I might describe it as “un-planned,” if that makes sense. She had not been gravely ill. Death just sort of naturally happened. She had fought several rounds of pneumonia and a nasty intestinal infection in the last many months, and her body was fatigued. Every breath had become a struggle. I wasn’t entirely surprised when I got the call from my sister, but I was certainly sorry I hadn’t had one last chance to see her before she died.
Pictures? We’ve got pictures! Click on the photo to see a sampling of photos from our weekend with Bishop Robinson. We will not soon forget his visit, nor his connecting the beautiful faces of those who died in the Orlando massacre, which surrounded us as we worshiped, to the words of the Greek gay poet, Dinos Christianopoulos, written in the 1970’s, found on a makeshift monument in Ferguson, MO, ““They tried to bury us. They didn’t know we were seeds.” Indeed, we are each seeds.
In the wake of this month’s massacre of 49 people at a gay nightclub in Orlando, “it is especially important that we stand up and declare our pride in them, and in ourselves,” Bishop Gene Robinson told a gay pride service at Morristown’s Episcopal Church of the Redeemer on Sunday. Read more