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The Story of Paris
There is something about the telling of a story that captures our imagination. Maybe it is the anticipation of discovering the plot and then feeling the excitement of watching it unfold. Or maybe it is the landscapes, culture, and time frame in which the story takes place allowing us to enter into these places just for a moment. Yet above all else, it seems to me that the characters themselves arrest us the most. Their personalities. Their virtues. Their vices. Their achievements and their failures. We love the characters because deep down we know that we are taking part in our own stories. Therefore we imagine ourselves within their roles…
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Paris, Death, and Uncertainty
It has been one week since evil raised its head in Paris. One week. One week of news reports about those who carried out these attacks. One week of wondering how this could happen again. One week of speculating what and who is next. There was a moment last Saturday afternoon, less than 24 hours from the time the first bullets flew and the first bombs detonated, that I watched my four year old son play outside as if there was no evil in the world. He played with such intensity. He played with such vigor. He played as if death did not show its head less than 4 hours away in a city…
