Paul Phillips
  I have been a member of ChristianBlog.Com for 1 year, 15 days.

  I have published 66 blogs and 11 comments.

 My most recent blog was published: Aug 17 2017 09:41:23am

 I currently live in: United States.
  My Newest Blogs
Number two common
Paul Phillips
published . 4 min read
There’s a black spot in the middle of the dining room floor. It stays. The burn mark embedded in the number 2 common oak hardwood floor is part of family lore now. It’s not a dramatic story; the details don’t really warm the heart. Still, the memories have been woven into our history now. We’re keeping the history. And the memories. It was close to fifteen years ago that the Lovely Lady’s mom said goodbye to her sweetie as she rode away with her sister for a women’s meeting early one morning. Her sweetie, the white-haired man who taught me all he knew of operating a music store, sat at the table in the kitchen with a cup of instant coffee between his gnarled hands. It was a morning like any other. Only it wasn’t. A couple of hours later, my......
The rendering place
Paul Phillips
published . 4 min read
It was on a recent trip to the local home center I noticed the new signage at the local chicken processing plant. Wet Ingredients Facility. Ewwww. The Lovely Lady and I were in complete agreement that it didn’t seem a very appetizing description. We are determined never to partake of the products the factory will be generating. Never. And, given that the facility is the latest pet food production site for the company, it is to be hoped we can live by our commitment. Somehow, within minutes, my mind went back to a conversation I had nearly forty years ago with the Lovely Lady’s father. It was on one of our many excursions out into the countryside to deliver a piano to a customer. The ancient white-haired man (all humans over sixty were ancient to me then—not anymore) and......
Not home anymore
Paul Phillips
published . 4 min read
It’s not really our home, you know. I said the words jokingly—actually, only half jokingly—to a guest in our house the other day. The visitor was visibly surprised. We’ve lived in the house for a decade and a half, filling the walls with artwork we’ve chosen to fit our taste, and the bookcases with volumes to feed our souls. The walls still seem to echo with the voices of our grandchildren and college students around the table. If I listen carefully, I can almost hear the Lovely Lady’s mother’s musical laugh, her idiosyncrasies and stories far outlasting her years on this earth. The Doxology still rings in the air, sung by voices young and old scattered around the little dining room. And, before the strains of that beautiful old hymn of praise die......
Summer is passing
Paul Phillips
published . 3 min read
Church was full this morning. Everyone sat a little closer together. Everyone sang a little louder. There were more hugs, and more laughter afterward. It all makes me a little sad. That didn’t come out right. Maybe, I should explain. The church is full because the teachers and professors are returning from their summer travels, their mission trips, their expeditions to expand horizons in their own minds so they can do the same for their students. Hmmm. I seem to be making it worse instead of better. I want to be very clear. I like the teachers and professors. I really do. It’s just that if they’re coming back, the students can’t be far behind. Oh. That’s no better either, is it? I love the students coming back, too. Really, I do. They fill the place with life......
Sometimes, i like surprises
Paul Phillips
published . 4 min read
The Lovely Lady saw it first. She usually does. Look! A surprise lily! By and large, it is not the season in our part of the country for brilliant blossoms on plants, the bountiful spring rains having mostly deserted us in this sweltering summertime heat. The ground is parched and crunchy—the latter being the sound the vegetation makes underfoot when one takes a shortcut through the yard. But, sure enough, right near the driveway, where once there was a flower garden, the bare stem towers above the crunchy grass, gorgeous purple blooms standing proudly atop it. It is properly called a lycoris. We just call them surprise lilies, because of the way they simply pop up with no warning. Every year they surprise me, although I can’t think why. Well, perhaps a reason or two will......
Living in the light
Paul Phillips
published . 3 min read
The ghosts in the old house have been disturbed and are keeping me awake. No, not like the ghosts of movie fame—nor even poltergeists or apparitions in chains. I mean those people who once were part of my life, but who only live here now in my memory. Sometimes I wonder if I have awakened them, causing them, in turn, to interrupt my own sleep. It’s only a thought, of course, not borne out by facts. Still. Here I am—awake. I wrote of old light fixtures being made new to shine brightly the last time I shared my thoughts here. Since then, something’s been niggling at the edges of my mind. And, it’s not just the ghosts—although they have a good deal to do with it, truth be told. I sat at a table in a restaurant with my children tonight, both adults, long......
Light of the world
Paul Phillips
published . 4 min read
I had to take down all the old lights. It was weeks ago. Since that time, every occasion upon which the light switches have been snapped to the on position has seen the lighting of a bare bulb hanging from the electrical box in the ceiling. It's not beautiful. It is effective. Light has filled the room each time, the fleeing shadows routed by their perpetual enemy. There is illumination—in which to paint, to replace trim, to sweep up the dust. It's not a pretty light, though, the glare hurting the eyes and the bare bulb next to the ceiling drawing notice instantly to its spartan simplicity. We make do. Today though—today, I hung the old fixtures back up. Yes, you read that right. The old fixtures. I wondered about that, too. Weeks ago, when I pulled them down, I......
The lawnmower you gave me
Paul Phillips
published . 4 min read
I’ve never used a riding mower before. I never had a lawn big enough to need one. For most of my life, since I was nine or ten, I’ve pushed a mower to get the grass to a manageable length. Back and forth, step after plodding step. Leaning forward, hands spread across the push handle, row follows row until the task is completed. It has always been a hot, tedious chore. I have always been careful to say so too, after each session. The Lovely Lady usually has a cold drink ready for me when I’m done and she stands there smiling as I complain. The yard I mow now is done with a riding mower. I sit down to do the job. No more do I take step after step while following the roaring lawn implement. I let the clutch out and the machine carries itself (and me) back and forth across......
On the back roads
Paul Phillips
published . 3 min read
I suppose not everyone is in a hurry in the world now. Still, it certainly seems they are. I’ve noticed it for a few years, but I think it’s worse today than ever before. Most places, anyway. Retail stores, internet websites, food establishments, banks—everywhere one looks, the world caters to folks speeding through life. But, for just a few moments today—just a few—I found a slowing down place. Our old friends met at the local steak house again this evening, annoying the waitstaff as we sat at the table long after the dishes had been cleared away, and troubling other diners nearby as we laughed loudly and told stories of family, life, and faith. Ah, friendship, that shares in the joys, and hardships, and triumphs of life. Here, life slows to a crawl and time......
We are becoming
Paul Phillips
published . 3 min read
The girl-woman is becoming. She is sure—but not all that sure—of what she knows. A teenager, she sees a world that is too horrible to be lived in, but knows unequivocally that she will live in it (and wouldn’t miss it for anything). And so, she is becoming. Becoming is hard work. Confidence and confusion coexist side by side. Brilliant inspiration and murky misunderstanding vie constantly for the upper hand. The child is giving way to the woman as choices are made, options are considered, and future pathways determined. I used to think this was the norm. Children become adults and the process of becoming is complete. We make our choices and live with them. And, die with them. It’s not the way becoming works. You see, this old man is becoming, as well. Sixty years......
  Newest Blog Series
I have not created any blog series yet.