I Could Get Squashed.

Competitive people are always trying to squash you. That’s why I avoid them. And writers, according to something I just read, are competitive.

Even so, I signed up for an eight week Creative Writing course at the community center. You’ll probably end up suffering through get to read some of my assignments. Maybe all of them.  The class began last week and I signed up yesterday, so seven max.

The offering is exclusively for those who are 50+ so I’m not too worried about being squashed. I’m hoping that at 50+ my classmates’ aspirations will have more to do with slowing bone, muscle and memory loss than becoming rich and famous.

“Does it meet at the Recreation Center?,” my daughter, who worked there one summer, asked.


“I remember that class.  The old ladies were always asking me to staple their pages.”

Staple their pages?

I wasn’t picturing pages.

I was picturing taking my seat, smiling and nodding, learning, going home and practicing, maybe observing an odd or inspiring something or someone here and there to tell you about. That’s it.

Pages. Oh well.

I live in a very secular community. I am not secular.  My life lens is almost all God.

In fact, in addition to wanting something to do, I signed up for the class hoping to tell a more creative story when I lead students through the book of John in September.

Pages. Chances are mine won’t all be secular.

I might get squashed for that.

I can take it though.  I signed the Holy Spirit up to take the journey with me.

She’s always good for a few laughs on the way home.


Pumpkin, butternut squash, orzo, crispy sage and brown butter

Oh, and did you know that the pronoun used for the Holy Spirit in John 16 (and probably elsewhere, I haven’t looked) can be translated he, she, him, her or their?



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