Gene Kelly Was Here

It took me less than half an hour to pack. Everything I have fits in my backpack and my briefcase, and that includes the little bit extra I’ve picked up while here. My backpack sits there now, full and ready for the sixteen hours of terminal waiting and sky flying that’s still between me and…

Once, on the first day of class one quarter at Fuller (I don’t remember which class) the professor went around the room and asked us each to tell a little about ourselves – our names, programs, goals, and “where home is.” When it was my turn, I answered the last part by saying that “home”…

Dear Paris, My dear, we were never made to last. We knew that. We spoke of it often. Barely a day went by that did not include the continued countdown of our days together. In every moment of reverie, over every sublime summer afternoon was suspended the sure knowledge that we could not persist. Ours…

Crickets. I hear crickets. I see stars. I feel the cool evening wind relieved to be free of the sun’s fierce gaze caressing my skin. The mountains cannot hide. Even in the pale silver “shaving that fell on the floor of a carpenter’s shop” moonlight the mountains frame the horizon. Tiny lights rumor of ancient…

Perhaps the most oft repeated cry of angst when I discuss church planting in the United States with other students at Fuller is, “But we’re SO individualistic!” Usually this criticism of American society is in reference to the American proclivity to go our own way, excel, and rise in authority and standing among our peers.…

Before I left for Paris, my brother warned me to be careful. He noticed that every time an American went to Europe in a movie, something went wrong, and Liam Neeson had to be called in for the rescue. My brother didn’t think he was a skilled as Mr. Neeson, but he was willing to…

“I will never be a great writer.” That’s how I was going to begin this post when I first began writing it yesterday morning. I was going to write the following. I will never be a great writer. To be a great writer, one must devote themselves fully to writing. One must write constantly. One…

I just walked around Paris for the last hour and a half trying very unsuccessfully to get lost. I did walk down a street or two I hadn’t walked down before, but I always knew where I was. I always knew what was behind me. I always knew what was before me I always knew…

Fifteen minutes into our conversation, Blue Sweat Pants said, “This is the drug coach.” By that time I was aware. This is a true story. I did something unusual on Wednesday evening – I decided to make the long trek down the station sidewalk to sit in the front car of the train back to…

“I love this place. We are really, really happy here,” she said to me on the way to the train station with tears in her eyes. I understood. I love it too, both because it is a lovely home and because Jerome, Katrin, and their daughter Clementine welcomed me into it so warmly. Last night…