Sunday Salon ~ three trips

Trip to the museum

My great-granddaughter enjoyed her visit to the Creative Discovery Museum a week ago.  This is the least blurry photo of that occasion.

These show her personality.  Raegan is outgoing and loves to make people laugh.  (Click to enlarge the photos.)

Trip to Atlanta

Donna and I went to Atlanta overnight so we could hear Barbara Brown Taylor speak at Emory University on "Learning to Walk in the Dark."  The subtitle is "Nourishing your soul when you can't see the way ahead."

I've read three of her books and consider her an excellent writer.

Leaving Church: A Memoir of Faith, 2006, rated 9/10

Anyone who has experienced doubts about his or her chosen vocation, or those drawn to worship God in a community but who have a hard time finding their place in church, will find a kindred spirit in Taylor.

Altar in the World: Geography of Faith, 2009, rated 8/10

She shows us how to discover altars everywhere we go and in nearly everything we do as we learn to live with purpose, pay attention, slow down, and revere the world we live in.

Mixed Blessings, 1986, rev. ed. 1998, required reading in seminary

The topics of these sermons range from conversations with Abraham and Moses to our awareness of the communion of saints and how to recognize a miracle when one comes our way.

I graduated in 1987 and haven't been back on campus more than a few times since then.  Not for several years now.  A lot has changed, and traffic seems to have doubled or tripled.  I checked into the Red Roof Inn, wondering how in the world I'd ever be able to turn left onto the six-lane street to get to the event that night.  I'll probably post more about her talk later, but for now I'll share this thought about darkness:

The extent of the darkness in her life — and ours — may be "reading a good book by a low-watt lightbulb."  Maybe it's time for a walk in the dark.

Trip to the vet

Sammy is 18 years old.  That's old in cat years, and she may have feline Alzheimer's, since she can't always remember to use her litter box.  She steps in and paws the sandy litter this way and that — and gets out to do everything else beside the box or on the living room carpet.  Since Kiki died last summer, Sammy has been fighting the cat in the closet-door mirrors, unable to grasp it's herself she sees.  With Kiki gone, Sammy feels free to come out of "her" room (she's my roommate's cat) into "Kiki's room" and jump on my bed to talk to me.  She discovered a nice hidey-hole behind my desk, traversing the knee-hole and turning right into the corner.  She thought no one could see her until the day she glanced to the side and could see me looking at her from beyond the desk.  I was afraid I'd soon be writing an "R.I.P. ~ Sammy" post like the one I did last year for Kiki.  But the only thing the vet found wrong was that she may have a hyperthyroid condition, which can be treated.  He seemed unconcerned with possible Alzheimer's, which may have something to do with its being untreatable.  Sammy was relieved when we got home and headed for her special spot behind the desk.

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