A month ago Frederick Buechner died at age ninety-six. During that windfall of years, in which he served as a high-school chaplain, was ordained a Presbyterian minister, raised a family, and worked his unusually enchanted way with words, Buechner wrote a book that I read again each year.

“You are dust and to dust you shall return.”

In the wake of anti-Black racism protests around the globe, people have been questioning the public statues and other works of art that surround us for the statements they make, overt or otherwise.

“Providence” sounds such a heavy word. Portentous. If someone uses it a lot in conversation, we might think of them as self-important and smug, as if they are claiming that God is on their side.