Office of the Bishop Suffragan for Chaplaincies

The Bishop's Notebook Archive

Brook Packard

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The Bishop's Notebook, 17 July 2003
“General Convention 2003
By the time this reaches your home the 74th General Convention of the Episcopal Church (ECUSA) will be in full swing. If you’ve never attended one before, you may imagine that it’s a bit like Shriners with collars or a revival meeting with quality liturgy. With Episcopalians being as diverse a group as we are theologically and demographically, you would find one or two attending that fit that preconception. Yet, there’s a lot more to it than partying down or round the clock prayer and praise.”
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The Bishop's Notebook, 10 January 2003

By the time this is posted I will have traveled to and returned from 4 days in Minneapolis. Under the fearless leadership of Robyn Szoke, a few of us who are certain that a children's presence at our church's General Convention is essential will have brainstormed, scouted, and prayed. ”
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The Bishop's Notebook, 22 March 2002
“ The take on the future of Andrea Pia Yates by hard-liners and the ignorant is that she is lucky. Lucky to face 40 years of incarceration. Lucky she didn't get a needle in her veins. Lucky to have room, board, three squares, and a gym and a law library. Lucky that she will live the remaining years of her life with only the unspeakable grief of having killed her five children. Good fortune just seems to follow at her heels like a stray puppy, doesn't it? Part of Yates' good fortune was to have a history of serious mental illness. Add to that a husband so wedded to the tenets of a fringe fundamentalist sect, he can only be considered an accomplice in his own children's deaths. Without the inclusion of the manner in which she murdered her children or the time spent obsessing about their deaths, Andrea Yates' history is too painful to take in fully. ”
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The Bishop's Notebook, 21 September 2001, Feast of Saint Matthew, Apostle and Evangelist,
Day 11 of the 100 Days

More Reflections on September 11th from our Family
“Throughout the day, I witness photocopied sheets with pictures and descriptions of missing loved ones. On bus stop shelters, taped to the back of cars, in doorways. Images of individuals in so many different poses: formal, candid, trying to look glamorous, hugging children, on the beach, in the living room. Accompanied by height, weight, color hair and eyes, and always with the words "Missing" or "Have you seen?" I am nauseous. "Missing" is now a euphemism. Yellow ribbons hope in the face of reality.
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