Last Suppers

For Wilshire Baptist Church

Ever think about last suppers, last meals, last visits? We usually don’t ahead of time because we don’t know when they will be. But afterwards?

My last meal with my sister Martha was probably at Sadler’s restaurant in Jacksonville, our usual stopping place for lunch on family drives down to Orange in southeast Texas to visit my grandparents. It was Easter week and nobody could have predicted the crash later in the day that would forever leave an empty chair at our family table.

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A Good Start

For Wilshire Baptist Church

It had been at least two years since I’d been on the bike. I know two years for sure because I lost 2022 to shoulder surgery and 2023 to cancer treatment. How long before that? I just don’t know. But long enough to have the same feeling I had when I started playing saxophone with the Wilshire Winds after a 25-year break: I didn’t realize how much I missed it. I didn’t realize how much I needed it.

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Be Still and Know

For Wilshire Baptist Church

There’s an old saying, attributed to Benjamin Franklin, that nothing is certain in life except death and taxes. Monday afternoon LeAnn and I ran some errands that danced all around that thought and then some.

First, we went to Texas Oncology at Medical City to drop off a disk of my most recent scans from UT Southwestern. We hadn’t been to Texas Oncology in two months, but after being there weekly through the spring and summer last year, going back felt familiar. As we walked in, I looked over my right shoulder to see the ever-present Christmas tree, always decked out for whatever season or holiday is coming, which in this case was St. Patrick’s Day. But familiarity came mostly from the kindness of the staff, who we realize deal with patients who are rarely “living their best life now,” to quote a more contemporary saying.

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