James Derkits

          The Derkits family  donated a lighted boat compass, barometer, and aluminum net float to the Port Aransas Maritime Museum in memory of John James Derkits, Jr, who grew up sailing with his dad on the Alabama Gulf Coast. My mom moved back to the coast at the beginning of 2022. She grew up in Daytona Beach, Florida; now she resides in Rockport, Texas. When she moved, I collected these artifacts, and wanted to share them.        There are so many details I wish I could verify and ask about, but that time has passed. My dad, John James Derkits, Jr. has died so the stories of he and Grandad that my mom, sisters, and I remember are the stories. He grew up on Mobile Bay. His dad was a sailor, and taught his boy, called JJ, to sail. JJ, who is known by his grandchildren as Papa, often sailed further than he was supposed to, I heard about those memorable occasions he got in trouble, unable to resist sailing just a little f...

When we tell the story of Jesus' nativity on Christmas Eve, there will surely be those in the pews pondering the miracle of Jesus' birth to Mother Mary and his peculiar presence in a manger among the animals. We ponder this one big miracle, and the earth shaking events around the birth of Jesus along with Mary who burst out in song when she learned she would be the one to birth the Creator into the Creation.  I hope you won't stop with that one big miracle. Instead, I hope the birth of Jesus Christ will light the fuse of your awareness of miracles happening in your life all the time. Give that rational, reasoning, over-function, ego-oriented part of you a rest, and relish in the mystery of God's real presence right there in your heart, in your family, and in the good creation surrounding you.  I recently visited my sister's property in Refugio, where I got to sit in a deer blind for several sunrises and several sunsets. My mind wandered back to the monastic men and ...

 Participation is an important word throughout Episcopal/Anglican Theology, and no doubt in other traditions as well. While I enjoy an inspiring sermon or perhaps good speaker in other contexts, we believe and teach that the sermon is just a small piece of it.  Every moment beginning to end is our worship, and we participate in something much greater than ourselves, or our particular gathering. When we worship, we participate in an eternal flow of worship. We remember that specifically when we sing "with angels, archangels, and all the company of heaven," just before we share communion. We also join beyond geography with Christians around the world who gather to pray and praise.      It was extremely challenging to be apart from one another because what we do in worship together is much more than words spoken and heard. As convenient as it may have been to sit at home in pajamas while watching church online, there's much more happening when we gather for worship...

    I should start with a confession, or perhaps a statement of fact: I preach to myself. I wouldn't presume to speak for all preachers, but I know that what is on my mind either by way of interest or struggle comes through my preaching. I tell people that after they say a particular sermon spoke to a struggle they are experiencing. We are human beings, and we all share similar struggles. I'm grateful for our assigned lectionary readings that become variably a mirror, counterpoint, or guide.      That's a simple preface to address the vicious philosophy of scarcity at work around us these days. It shows up sometimes in humorous, or at least ridiculous ways (did anyone actually run out of toilet paper last year?), and sometimes in ways that are so contrary to the gospel it's frightening. The fear of not having enough stuff gets at all of us. We may not even recognize it because it is so woven into our culture. There are parts of the world where Amazon doesn't del...

Originally Published in the South Jetty Newspaper No one needs me to point out that a lot of things are changing, have been changing, and will continue to change in Port Aransas. I heard about how much had already changed by the time I moved here in 2012. That has a lot to do with how attractive our little island home is, set here on the edge of Texas in the Gulf of Mexico. Who wouldn’t love it? (Thanks be to God for those people who do not, and prefer to live and even vacation elsewhere.) What brought me here, and people in the early days, continues to attract people to this little sand bar. She was wild, and she still is. That’s what the coyotes tell me as they track jackrabbits across our church yard. Change is a difficult thing to live with, but when change stops so does life. Change is the nature of this good creation we inhabit; of which we are a part. We pray a Psalm each week in church and at the end of the Psalm we add: “Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy ...

At the end of this month we will celebrate a most seemingly bizarre holiday. On the last night of the tenth month, we encourage children to put on scary disguises and go door-to-door in the dark, begging for candy. I love it. I look forward to Halloween each year in it's American expression, and especially the way it happens in Port Aransas. Three cheers for Channel Vista!  A couple of years ago, I painted my face Dia de los Muertos style as I tried to keep up with my son and his friends running around the neighborhood. We have a small side-altar at our church in front of the columbarium during this month. There we place photos of our loved-ones. Day of the Dead goes all month for us. Then around All Saints' Day, November 1, we say special prayers at that side-altar. We remember that for the faithful, "...life is changed not ended..." as we pray during our funeral service. A few years ago, I added my a photo of two of my nieces to the altar, and this year I've add...

Originally printed in our November Day School Newsletter  Death is a difficult word to say for it's stark truth. My dad died at the beginning of October, and now he is dead. These days in American culture we try to disguise death in softer language. We don't like death, we pretend it isn't a thing. Perhaps it stared with funeral home culture; those who have to talk with so many people about death often use language like "passing on," "departing", or even "expiring". Then there's a host of language about going to be with God, Jesus, etc. all of which I believe, but I still use the D word, and I think you should, too.  The reality is death is part of life. It is the very end part. As different as we all are, each of us one way or another arrive at death. That makes me very aware of the gift of this present moment that I am living. I am alive now, and I will not be one day. I'd better get busy! It pushes me to relish my relationships, and ...