Lord, teach me. . . .

  Never stop learning, because Life never stops teaching.   –Lin Pernille On our journey, we have almost arrived at Epiphany , or Twelfth Night. Epiphany literally means to shine a light on , or reveal . In our Christian tradition, Epiphany refers to the arrival of the Wise Ones and their proclamation of the Christ Child as the one about whom much was prophesied. It marks the end of the journey to Bethlehem, but the beginning of a much longer journey: a journey of learning more . The thing about the Wise Ones was, they never stopped learning. They never let their belief in a Supreme Divine keep them from seeking greater knowledge. They truly believed that faith and knowledge were two facets of the same gemstone. They didn’t contradict one another; rather, the one enhanced the other. And in that enhancement, they took turns. For instance. From the beginning, the Wise Ones saw a star that shone in the East. The Wise Ones were, we believe, from Persia—which already lies eas

  Something a little different this week. I invite you to sit with Howard Thurman’s beautiful words and let them sink into your heart. May Peace, Hope, Joy—and Love be yours.   Christmas returns, as it always does, with its assurance that life is good. It is the time of lift to the spirit,      When the mind feels its way into the commonplace,      And senses the wonder of simple things: an evergreen tree,      Familiar carols, merry laughter. It is the time of illumination,      When candles burn, and old dreams      Find their youth again. It is the time of pause,      When forgotten joys come back to mind, and past dedications renew their claim. It is the time of harvest for the heart,      When faith reaches out to mantle all high endeavor,      And love whispers its magic word to everything that breathes. Christmas returns, as it always does, with its assurance that life is good.   --Howard Thurman, The Mood of Christmas and Other Celebrations (Friends Unite

  We all want to just live a simple life, but nobody really knows how to do that. –Cameron Britton   We got a new television this week. It’s a “smart TV,” and it makes me feel kinda dumb. In the “good old days,” when you brought home the TV, all you had to do was plug it in the wall and turn it on. That’s it. No remote control except the kids. Maybe you’d need to add an antenna, and it might take two people to get those rabbit ears adjusted just right . But it was that easy. Lawrence Welk was in our living room before we knew it. This time . . . ugh. There’s a code to type in. And a really complicated remote control. And literally hundreds of channels to choose from (but a current contract dispute keeps us from getting one of our favorites)! I miss simple. During this pandemic, I suspect I am not alone. People are learning old practices as new things: baking bread, taking long walks instead of going to the gym. Staying home. Even the holidays have gotten complicated. Inst

  Trust not tomorrow! Whatever you are planning, today is the best day to act! --Mehmet Murat ildan   She is four-and-a-half years old, with beautiful blue eyes that dance with life, flowing blonde curls that would draw the envy of a princess. And she is my granddaughter. This past week, we got our first snowfall—and it was a doozie! Officially, we got over a foot of the white stuff, heavy and wet. Trees sagged under the weight; branches creaked, groaned—and snapped. Cars’ wheels whined and drivers cursed, as they misjudged the depth and paid for their error. Even buses and plows struggled. For a Tuesday, it felt an awful lot like a Monday for many  In my daughter’s house, around about six o’clock, the light broke through. Princess Golden Curls came down the stairs, took one look outside—and began racing around and around, through the living room and kitchen, eyes alight and curls a-flying. THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE! THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE !   Over and over again,

  In ancient times, cats were worshipped as gods. They have not forgotten this. –Terry Pratchett   Jesus talks of a day when the nations will stand before the Son of Man and be separated, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. The closer we read the story, the clearer it becomes: we are all sheep. And we are all goats. But few f us actually raise sheep or goats any more.  What if we changed the animals up? What if the animals representing us were dogs and cats? Think about it:  Dogs are always excited to see us, sometimes overly so. Cats tend to ignore even their favorite humans unless necessary.  When we are sick or in pain, dogs still demand attention; cats are willing to simply be with us in our sadness or pain. Dogs greet each day as a new adventure, ready and eager to engage with everyone and everything; cats are equally curious—in their own (sometimes annoying) ways.  Some days, we are all eager like dogs: ready to go, sometimes trampling over others i

  We have met the enemy, and he is us. –Pogo (I am writing a post I really don’t want to write, but am finding I can’t not write.)  It’s likely that over the past week or so, you’ve caught wind of the annual “War on Christmas” being waged over Starbucks and their seasonal coffee cups. If you’ve been fortunate enough to miss the hubbub, here it is, in a nutshell:  In years past, Starbucks has created wintry cups adorned with symbols of the season: snowmen, snowflakes, reindeer. But in 2015, they chose to issue a plain red cup. No decorations. And this led some angry, conservative Christians to claim that Starbucks is “declaring war on Christmas.” Seriously? All this over a disposable coffee cup? Who gives a flying . . . reindeer? (The fancy cups have since returned; the War is over [for now].) Here’s what I believe: God did not come in to the world in human form to teach us how to decorate coffee cups. God did not come to model taking offense over how we greet one another,

  Normal is getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work, driving through traffic in a car that you are still paying for, in order to get to a job that you need so you can pay for the clothes, car and the house that you leave empty all day in order to afford to live in it. –Ellen Goodman   Zoom meetings have become the new way of gathering at a distance during this pandemic. I don’t have a lot of them, but I have had my share, and I smile because—well, because we are a funny species. The thing about Zoom is, you can only see the person, at the most, from the waist up. And you can see whatever they carefully place in their background, but that’s it. Hardly a complete picture of who they are, or where they work. And yet I admit it: when I have a Zoom meeting with my Association Minister or influential colleagues, I choose my shirt carefully (while still wearing my comfy jeans). I have been known to sit in the less-than-comfortable highback chair (and regret it later), so m

  It’s your outlook on life that counts. If you take yourself lightly and don’t take yourself too seriously, pretty soon you can find the humor in our everyday lives.                                                       And sometimes it can be a lifesaver.  –Betty White I have a friend on Facebook who posts many, many pictures, every single day. Pictures of family, pictures of the city, perfect sunrises and sunsets—whatever strikes their fancy. They’re great pictures—and maybe that’s part of the problem: The pictures are always perfect!   A child with a missing tooth suddenly has a full, perfect smile—and beautiful, perfect makeup, as well. The stain on their shirt: gone ! That sunset that was so gorgeous in person now has a couple added clouds, or a bird—so unnecessary—making the image look straight out of Hallmark. Now, if this makes them happy, great. But I believe when we document the less than perfect moments in life, it isn’t embarrassing; rather, it reminds me of our de

  One must choose in life between boredom and suffering.  –Madame de Stael     I’m bored. I am also anxious, and exhausted—and discouraged at times. But mostly, I’m bored. This pandemic lifestyle has gotten—old. It’s as if most of the world has gone from color to black and white. I yearn for something different! Often it seems as if God has gone fishin’ or something, leaving us here unattended. Where are the rainbows amidst the dark clouds? The warm glow during the silent nights? Like Moses, or Elijah, I find myself longing for a mountaintop . . . or a burning bush . . . or a still, small whisper, even. Then I pause for a breath, and look around me. The cats, as if on cue, chase each other through the living room and bring a smile. Warm water running up my arm as I wash the dishes. My husband’s deep breathing as he naps remind me how fortunate we are. The drone of the television in the background of our daily routine somehow helps me see: God is still speaking, loud and c

  Can the Creator of all lure poetry out of a stone? Or cause a stirring of Divine Love in a human heart? All is possible for the Creator of all, Who loves to manifest the impossible In endless configurations. —Thomas Keating   Anyone else getting tired of the election rhetoric? All the name-calling and lying, insults and character attacks? Some days, coupled with the pandemic and all the anxiety accompanying that, it just gets to be too much. It’s one thing to disagree. It’s one thing to hold different opinions about policy. It’s another thing altogether to turn every conversation into an ad hominem attack that helps no one. John Wesley offered three guidelines to help keep the Main Thing the Main Thing when it to voting: ©        Vote, without fee or reward, for the person judged most worthy; ©       Speak no evil of the person voted against; ©       Take care one’s spirit wasn’t sharpened against those who voted differently. In other words . . . vote the is

  Listen to the mustn’ts, child.  Listen to the don’ts. Listen to the shouldn’ts, the impossibles, the wont’s. Listen to the never haves, then listen close to me: Anything can happen, child. Anything can be.             –Shel Silverstein From the time we enter the world, we receive messages telling us how to behave, what to do to be accepted. Parents, teachers, friends—virtually everyone we encounter, in one way or another, offers input into how to get along in the world. And much of the time, we accept these words and actions without question, without really stopping to think if it’s best for us . In fact, many times, we may begin to question and find we haven’t the courage, strength or knowledge to change our beliefs. Or we may be awash in guilt for considering discarding a cherished belief. But if we are to grow, as people and as Christians, change is oh, so necessary. There is a house I pass by regularly. I know the family: devout, very conservative, with many children. Four

  Love, Love is a verb. Love is a doing word. –Massive Attack We are all tired, aren’t we? The season of pandemic goes on and on. The silly games with BINGO cards offering so many options of things this year has already offered are becoming more and more commonplace, and seeming less and less outrageous. (Did you have murder hornets on your list?) As we continue into yet another month of frustration and isolation, one thing is clear: We still desperately need one another. And—we still need to respect the virus. Even people who didn’t believe the virus was real are now testing positive. Love is a verb. A very active verb that takes many forms. Languages other than English have multiple ways of expressing the nature of love—puppy love, brotherly love, passionate love, agape love. All these forms are merely different ways of showing others they are cared for. And the best way to show you care is to do something . Write a note. Call. Order coffee for a stranger. Smile. Laugh.

  The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge, but imagination. –Albert Einstein One of the things I love most about children is their ability to see things that aren’t really there. Things that come purely from their wild, busy little minds. Things that, as we grow older, we might no longer see or hear or experience. Chris Van Allsburg wrote a wonderful book, The Polar Express . It’s the story of a young boy who is invited to go along on a Christmas Eve adventure. As we ride with him aboard the Polar Express, we are reminded of the wonders of childhood, and the joy of sharing a very special secret. At the end of the book, the boy and his sister receive a gift from the Visitor from the North: a silver bell, whose tinkling jingle is nothing short of divine. Imagine their surprise when they show the bell to their parents—and they hear nothing! They have lost their ears that hear. They have grown up. Throughout Scripture, we find messages that remind us to have eyes to see

  Of all the [churches] in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine. –Humphrey Bogart (adapted)   He was 66 years old, clean cut and polite. Introduced himself and told us he was from a faraway place, but was on his way home. He had been hitchhiking, but finding rides was tough. He needed sleep . Could we help him out with a motel room for a night? Several Googles and phone calls later, we got him set up, handed him a mask and got ready to load him into my back seat for the short drive to the Holiday Inn.  Then he started talking.  Well, if you ask me . . . all this stuff is just a hoax. There haven’t really been that many deaths. And it’s not really that bad if you do catch it. And masks don’t really do any good, anyway! I responded that I’ve walked alongside too many people who’ve had it or lost someone they loved deeply, and reminded him to put on that mask before he got into my car. Those were three long miles to drive. But at about Mile Two, we found co

  The years teach much which the days never know. –Ralph Waldo Emerson   Recently we watched that magnificent movie, Gone with the Wind . Between the beautiful panorama shots, the over-the-top costuming and all-star cast, it truly is unforgettable. A classic. One line from that movie has kept inserting itself in my mind of late, as we all wander our way through this season of pandemic. It’s that line delivered by Butterfly McQueen, aka Prissy, in a panicked, high-pitched squeak of a voice: I don’t know nothin’ about birthin’ no babies, Miss Scarlett! Remember? Remember the chaos? Everyone thinking someone else needed to take charge? Remember how, in the end, Miss Melanie and the baby were all right, despite everyone’s inexperience.  Kind of reminds me of this pandemic we are in. Not a one of us has ever been through anything even remotely similar to this. Ever. We make mistakes. We yell, we cry—we make excuses for our actions. Sometimes we lash out in anger (or fear).

  I think, at a child’s birth, if a mother could ask a fairy godmother to endow it with the most useful gift, that gift should be curiosity. –Eleanor Roosevelt When our first child was born and the nurse placed him in my arms, we simply stared at one another.   His was a gaze of curiosity, of wonder and perhaps a bit of fear, as well. Everything must have seemed bright and new and unusual—but there were these voices he already knew, so it would be all right.   Meanwhile, we counted fingers and toes, and looked with absolute astonishment and joy—and a wee bit of trepidation, as well—at this new life we had created together. Perfect in every single way.   As he grew, he became more independent. Some days, he decided he didn’t need us at all. Some days, he came running towards us, arms outstretched; other days, we wouldn’t hear from him at all.   But we continue to love him. And he knows that. We have never left that up for question, even on anyone’s worst day.  

  There is no better way to thank God for your sight than by giving a helping hand  to someone in the dark.  --Helen Keller   The last time. . . .   When was the last time you set aside some time to spend alone with God? I’m not talking about a few fleeting seconds of pleading for a break, or a cry of desperation during a tough time. No—I mean more than a quick Thank God when something goes your way. If you have those moments regularly (and recognize them as prayer), good for you.   But God desires more. And frankly, you need more. A prayer life that consists of nibbling and noshing, and never settling down for a real meal, can leave our souls feeling malnourished and longing for more .   When was the last time? And—when will be the next time?   Fall is on its way in our part of the world. The weather will soon begin to cool; trees and bushes are cloaking themselves in autumn. Everything seems to whisper of change . What about your spirit? Could you use a lift?

  Life’s most persistent and urgent question is: What are you doing for others? –Martin Luther King, Jr.   A great man died recently, and left a legacy that would fill the Grand Canyon, at least. John Lewis, small of stature and big of heart, determined to leave the world a better place than when he arrived, reminded us all not to be afraid to get in good trouble . What he didn’t need to say was, Get in good trouble together . The path we journey in Life is made for companionship. When we sing, it’s the mingling of voices that raises the roof—even as that one beautiful voice rises high above (or bellows deeply below) the rest. When we weep, we find solace and healing in the arms, real or virtual, of a friend. Even when we choose time alone, the Presence of the Holy Spirit makes sure we are never truly by ourselves. This has been a tough season. We have been told not to gather, not to hug— not to sing. We yearn for a physical touch from a friend we no longer see regular