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Dust to Dust

I enjoy walking with my dog, Coal, in the cemetery of my church which is a few hundred yards from my house. It has recently been blacktopped and is very convenient, and has plenty of room for my dog to run without getting into trouble. As I walk, I enjoy looking at tombstones. This is something that has always intrigued me, even as a child. I like to imagine the stories behind those who are buried there. I have always enjoyed history, so I find it interesting to look at the stones and imagine what life was like during earlier times. I see families who are buried next to one another, the death years too close to the birth years. The mothers and fathers, the children who were born and died the same day or year. The baby who was born and died soon after, a few years back, but the parents who were unable to afford a tombstone for her until just recently. The graves that are decorated a little like gaudy store window displays, because the ones remaining here on earth are at a loss about
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Recent posts

Why are you here?

I didn’t expect to see anyone else here.  I’m Mary, Mary of Magdala. I’m supposed to be meeting my friends here to finish preparing the body of Jesus.  You know, Jesus.  He was supposed to be our Savior, the one who would save Israel. I guess you heard what happened. Is that why you’re here? You know, we never dreamed it would really happen, even though he kept telling us it would be so. He may have broken the rules sometimes, but he  didn’t do anything wrong, not really. He only did good, the whole time I knew him, the whole time he was alive.   He was the most loving person I’ve ever known in my life.  He was like my brother, and I, his sister. I can’t believe he’s really gone. Friday was so exhausting, so terrifying, so…sad.  And yesterday, well, it was the longest day of my life, knowing that I couldn’t come here and take care of his body like I needed to. It was such a contrast with Friday, so…silent. It was a terrible day. But at least I
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The First Thing

The first thing I ever remember doing in church was singing. And the first song I remember is, “Are You Washed in the Blood.” I remember sitting in a church pew in the little church where I was raised, (and my mother before me), with my mama and grandmama at a Decoration Day (homecoming) service. The preacher yelled and hollered and his face turned really red, and I thought he was going to jump over the altar rail! And I asked my mother, “Mama, why is he so mad?” I didn’t enjoy his message. But I did like the singing! “Have you been to Jesus for the cleansing pow’r...Are you washed in the blood of the Lamb?” Being washed in blood didn’t even seem gross to me. The woman who played the piano had a tendency to bang on it a little too loud, and the man who led singing sometimes sang off key, but it didn’t matter to my little 3-year-old self. I loved singing with them, and I loved singing with everyone else. The brown paperback Favorite Songs and Hymns was well-worn, and the pages felt s
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Who I Am

So, who am I? Well, that’s complicated. I’m a daughter, a sister. I’m a cousin. I’m a wife, a mother, and a grandma. I’m a Christian, a sinner saved by grace. I’ve been a Licensed Local Pastor for The United Methodist Church since 2014. In the big scheme of things, I’ve been a pastor for a relatively short time, I know. I’m still learning. I’m still figuring it out. So, I thought I would chronicle my life as a daughter, sister, cousin, wife, mother, grandma, Christian,  pastor. It’s not always entertaining, exciting or pretty. Just like me!  But it is what it is. Welcome. 
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