Archive
Author: Alasdair Renwick-Hale
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Trust Erodes Quietly and Rebuilds Slowly
I remember sitting in a cramped, fluorescent-lit hospital waiting room thirty years ago, listening to two nurses speak in hushed, urgent tones about a…
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Monasteries Preserved More Than Prayers
I remember sitting in a small, drafty chapel in the North of England, watching a young man try to explain the role of monasticism…
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Every Letter Answered a Question We Only Partly Hear
I remember sitting in a dim hospital room in the late nineties, holding the hand of a man who was trying to make sense…
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Fairness Is Noticed Most by Those Who Lack Power
I remember sitting in a cramped, fluorescent-lit consultation room during my third year as a chaplain, listening to a man describe how he had…
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Unaddressed Conflict Does Not Fade, It Migrates
I remember sitting in a cramped, poorly lit church basement thirty years ago, listening to two lifelong neighbors argue over a property line while…
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A Weekly Stop Is Harder Than a Weekly Start
I remember sitting in a small, sterile hospital room late one Tuesday, watching a man try to “relax” by scrolling through news feeds on…
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Above Twelve People Somebody Stops Speaking
I remember sitting in a sterile hospital waiting room years ago, watching a well-meaning pastoral team try to “manage” a grieving family through a…
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Fasting Was Never Mainly About Food
I remember sitting in a sterile hospital breakroom, watching a young man try to explain his new “intermittent fasting” regimen as if it were…
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Disputes Were Settled by Argument and Politics Both
I remember sitting in a sterile hospital waiting room, the air smelling of industrial floor wax and stale coffee, listening to a young man…
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A Commitment Made Casually Still Binds
I remember sitting in a dim hospital room in the late nineties, listening to a man try to explain to his daughter why he…