I never thought to ask him

You often hear people talk about making sure everything that needed to be said got said before someone passes on. I thought that was true for me and my dad, and I still think that.

But what if a search of an old closet, painted the same bacterial green as the rest of the room, comes up with something you could never imagine him having in his possession? What if you aren't even sure that the object, possibly of some significance, belonged to our family? What if you go through the mental file drawer and can't think of anyone who could tell you? What then?

How come he never spoke of this object? Did my mother know we had it? Did we indeed possess it-or did it somehow lie for 40 years, awaiting its hour on the stage? What stage did it play on before?

I can't mention what it is right now, though I hope to, eventually. But I so wish I knew...what we will probably not ever know.

Where did the time go?

I see Slate has an edition on procrastination. And I'm going to read it-just not tonight.

Are you like me? Do you have a way of putting off until next week what could have been accomplished three days ago?

It's not until rain threaten, as now, that I race out to try to mow the lawn just ahead of it. It's not until the commentary is due the next day that I settle down and get serious. I am preaching twice in June-and do you think I've looked at the readings?

To say that I'm not alone is not to excuse myself. It's amazing how much more I could do if I was disciplined-or consistently, as opposed to intermittently. Yes, some of those lost moments were spent smelling roses-but a lot of them were spent reading other peoples 'blogs, or checking
Facebook, or messaging people online.

Are you like me? Or have you found a secret you'd like to share for organizing your time so that you do more and appreciate more?

Maybe they've got a diagnosis for me at Slate. Right now I've got some mowing to do.

What's a "neural Buddhist?"

David Brooks has a fascinating article in the New York Times today (see the link). The focus is on the advances in cognitive science. How does what we are finding out about the brain affect how we experience God?

Is God a product of the brain or has God designed the brain to experience God?

While I'm not sure the writer means by a "neural Buddhist," I do find his central point worth considering. Is it possible that we are wired to sense the transcendent? What does this mean for those of us who believe in a particular God incarnate in Christ?

In his piece, Brooks mentions a laundry list of books on the topic. Those of us who confess belief in a personal God might want to look at some of the work the neuroscientists are doing.

Any ideas? Feel free to join in the conversation.