Lord, teach me. . . .

  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, some...

  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 gree...

  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 lat...

  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 ...

  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 s...