Lord, teach me. . . .

  Inside myself is a place where I live all alone, and that is where I renew my springs that never dry up. –Pearl S. Buck   The past two years (at least) have been exhausting, haven’t they? We had a pandemic that physically left us anxious and afraid. Our churches, where we go for nourishment, were closed or online longer than we wanted—and even now, we are careful. Politically, we have been divided against one another, and those wounds are still bleeding in many cases. We need to take care of ourselves. And it’s never been more difficult. What to do? How do I make time in our busy schedules—for me ? The simple answer: Whatever it takes. Remember when we would fly to a vacation destination? How the flight attendant would remind us that if the cabin loses pressure, the oxygen masks would drop down out of the ceiling? And that before we offer to help anyone else, we need to have our own masks in place ? Good advice for life in general. Today: Pause. Take inventory of everyt

  Festivals promote diversity, they bring neighbors into dialog, they increase creativity, they offer opportunities for civic pride, they improve our general psychological well-being. In short, they make cities better places to live. –David Binder   This weekend is Pride Weekend in many cities, including mine. Some years, we have gone to watch the parade. One year, folks invited us to walk with their church group—so we did. And I am so grateful. I will always remember. . . . A parade like this always looks different from the ranks than from the sidelines. From the sidelines, we never would have seen the Guardian Angels. Every year, every Pride Parade draws groups that try to spread a vile message of hate from the sidelines. In Cleveland, they are required to have a permit, and are confined to a particular spot along the route (thank goodness). And every time these folks show up with their messages of hate, the Guardian Angels bring Love. Dressed in white, with what appear t