Used Car for Sale
David R. Weiss – January 9, 2026

Margaret and I have been (happily) a one-car family for a dozen years now. But recently, with my dad’s increasing health challenges, my trips to Michigan City to help care for him have become more frequent and longer. Leaving Margaret carless for days, even weeks at a time. Friends have been very generous lending us the use of a car as needed, but we’ve been thinking about adding a second car to remove one point of complexity from our schedules.

Thus, when Margaret saw a Facebook post by a friend looking to sell a car, it caught her eye. And her heart. Karen, the seller, was a high school classmate of Margaret. Not close friends, but they sang in choir together and had overlapping friend circles. They’ve been Facebook friends for the past decade. Margaret had seen last spring that Karen’s husband, Mike, was battling cancer—and then that he had died in early November. By mid-December Karen was ready to sell his car.

The two of them traded several messages and phone calls and soon agreed on the purchase. But Karen lives near Omaha, Nebraska—a 400-mile drive from St. Paul. So, we weren’t able to schedule the actual purchase and pick-up until the second week of January. When Margaret and Karen hugged hello on January 9, it was long and heavy with emotion. This sale was another step in Karen’s grieving. A good step, but a teary one, nonetheless.

I was almost just a third wheel as the two women reconnected over high school memories—but that didn’t last long as Karen shared more about Mike’s cancer journey. He was first diagnosed with high-risk prostate cancer in 2017. His Gleason score (a measure of the cancer’s aggressiveness) was 9, the same score as mine is. Mike “beat” the prostate cancer. He had hormone treatment and radiation, just like me, and chemo on top of that. His cancer remained undetectable until 2025 when it “reappeared” in his liver. Except it turned out this wasn’t a metastatic prostate cancer it was an entirely new cancer. It was this second cancer—and the unanticipated side effects of treatment for it—that eventually took his life.

We only spent about an hour together. But the words shared in both directions were rich with feeling for all three of us. By the time we completed the purchase at the bank it seemed as though money was the least of what was changing hands. When Karen first took us into the garage to show us the car, she opened the door and said, with reverent gravity, “This is the car Mike drove.” This poem recounts that day.

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David Weiss is a theologian, writer, poet and hymnist, “writing into the whirlwind” of contemporary challenges, joys, and sorrows around climate crisis, sexuality, justice, peace, and family. Reach him at drw59mn@gmail.com. Read more at www.davidrweiss.com where he blogs under the theme, “Full Frontal Faith: Erring on the Edge of Honest.” Support him in Writing into the Whirlwind atwww.patreon.com/fullfrontalfaith.

Beside Myself – If Only
David R. Weiss – January 14, 2026

I am so exhausted. Anguished. Angry. But these days exhaustion gets the final word.

I would say I am beside myself, but that’s only wishful thinking—this notion that there could be another me, beside me, able to be two places at once. Alas.

My chosen city, Saint Paul, and its twin, Minneapolis, (indeed, cities across the entire state of Minnesota) are under assault. ICE and CBP agents are decidedly not there to do “immigration enforcement.” That’s their cheap justification for waging terror on my community and its rich tapestry of immigrants. Their demonstrated purpose is to scare us—especially the allies, those of us with relative privilege—so that we lower our gaze, go about our business, keep to ourselves, and let them do their fascist ethnic cleansing as though it needn’t concern us.

They are, to be sure, inflicting all-out trauma on our immigrant neighbors, documented or otherwise, as well as making many citizens of color fearful. But they need our begrudging acquiescence, even our unwilling complicity in fulfilling their white nationalist agenda. Which is why they go out of their way to exercise a “shock and awe” brutality to intimidate those of us who could stay on the sidelines, in an effort to keep us there. Thus, my anguish and my anger.

I write these words … so very heartfelt. And so very much from afar. You see, I’m sitting in the Roots Market Café in Valparaiso, Indiana sipping Earl Grey tea. Twice now Roots has provided a quiet, welcoming, sanctuary for my troubled spirit while my dad naps just a few miles away.

I’m here to do my part (alongside my sisters) to help untangle and pull together the million things necessary for my dad to move into assisted living. It’s an unplanned transition made necessary by a December bout with sepsis that has left him too weakened to live on his own any longer.

Right now, he’s at Life Care Rehab in Valparaiso, though after four weeks he’s about as rehabilitated as he’ll get. Thus, “here” is actually a daily (or twice daily) shuttle between Valpo and Michigan City, my hometown and where I’m staying at my dad’s (soon to be former) house. Thirty-five minutes each way in good weather. Today the weather is not good. Snowing sideways. (The sign hanging above Roots doorway is banging and clanging in the wind like the world is on fire. Spoiler alert: it is.)

This work is heavy lifting, emotionally, physically, logistically, and bureaucratically. My days run far too long. And I am exhausted. I am also absolutely happy, fortunate, blessed to be here doing the sacred work of care for my dad. I’m certain that our conversations spur on his healing. And I’m cautiously hopeful that this unplanned transition to Trail Creek Place will help him coast more comfortably through the remainder of his years.

I’ll have more to say about both my dad and my chosen city in the days ahead. Today it is enough simply to say, I am beside myself. If only.

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David Weiss is a theologian, writer, poet and hymnist, “writing into the whirlwind” of contemporary challenges, joys, and sorrows around climate crisis, sexuality, justice, peace, and family. Reach him at drw59mn@gmail.com. Read more at www.davidrweiss.com where he blogs under the theme, “Full Frontal Faith: Erring on the Edge of Honest.” Support him in Writing into the Whirlwind at www.patreon.com/fullfrontalfaith.