Letter to a Friend

Lately I’ve been thinking about your first visit, that time you and your wife drove up from Texas to spend the weekend.  We were all standing in the kitchen and you were easing us into your story.  I remember something about a train, and foreign living–English teacher was it?  I remember you telling me that you had this notion of grandeur, the confirming presence that real existence lies somewhere above the perfunctory protestant life.

I was standing at the sink scraping crimson pearls from the center of a pomegranate.  They fell into a glass bowl filled with water so that the pith would rise to the surface.  No one likes a mouthful of pith in their pomegranate.  At least that’s what Amber said. I couldn’t actually recall eating pomegranate pith and neither did you.
You told us of that day when you stood on the beach throwing rocks into the ocean.  Something about the promise in an infinite circle of ripples.  Something about dying, falling in tandem with the baptism of the rocks.  Something about meeting Jesus in a metaphor that was meant for you.  Amber stood in the corner and cried “amens.”  Matt and I stood still, quiet.  I looked down into the bowl to make sure the pith was rising to the surface.

The kitchen was a sanctuary that morning, quiet and brimming with good food.  I skimmed the surface of the glass bowl, pulling off the inedible innards and washing them down the sink.  The water spiraled counterclockwise, east to west on a compass dial.
Sometimes a kitchen is just a kitchen.  Sometimes it is a sanctuary for the Church.
Thank you for your story.

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5 Responses to Letter to a Friend

  1. Matt Brock says:


  2. Matt Brock says:

    I remember it all pretty well. The thing about kevin is that he can explain and describe things so well, that he could be talking about a bedpan and you would likely leave thinking how beautiful God is for his provision. That is not normal and is one of the reasons i like him. Whether we talk about the power of words and what parents speak over their children, or the impact of racism, or simply how to love our spouses right, i always feel very good by the end.

  3. Oh love this. Those divine appointments, magical God moments are the gifts that this Life is made of.

  4. hamster says:


    I’m getting caught up on my reading today. Started at the bottom of your blog and working my way up. And I just now, 13 days after the fact, came across this letter. The weird thing, if I can talk about weird things with people who have dove head first and both feet into the supernatural, is that I needed to read this today ten times more than I needed to read it any other day these past two weeks. I have something before me today that has me trembling a bit, and your letter calmed me. Honestly.

    Thanks for this and many more things.

    – ks

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