The Gleanings Project: The Call of Stories

“Upstairs Cafe at Art School” Phone Photo, DS

Coles, Robert. The Call of Stories. Boston, MA: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1989.

487 words

“As I have continued to do psychiatric work with children, I have gradually realized that my teaching has helped that work along –– by reminding me how complex, ironic, ambiguous, and fateful this life can be, and that the conceptual categories I learned in psychiatry, in psychoanalysis, in social science seminars, are not the only means by which one might view the world.” (Coles, xvii)

“The conversations have been about certain books which I use and use in various courses . . . a collective exploration of the personal responses . . . suggestive power . . .” (xviii)

“Concentrate on understanding her, not on trying to change her behavior.” (9)

“I wanted to hear more about her, not about the ‘symptoms.” (10)

“I allowed the patient’s ‘agenda’ to take over . . .” (13)

“As active listeners, we give shape to what we hear, make over their stories into something of our own.” (19)

“Why not let her story keep unfolding . . . “ (20)

“Few would deny that we all have stories in us which are a compelling part of our psychological and ideological make-up.” (24)

He ended with a plea for ‘more stories, less theory’.” (27)

“Their story, yours, mine, –– it’s what we all carry with us on this on this trip we take, and we owe it to each other to respect our stories and learn from them. “ (30)

“It’s sad the way people get lost when they run up against other people.” (42)

“She was able to announce, at one point, that Pride and Prejudice offered parallels of sorts to the circumstances in her high school.” (43)

“Sometimes, it’s those ‘down’ moments when you do your best thinking.” (49)

“There are worse words than cuss words, there are words that hurt.” (51)

“Her stories worked their way into the everyday life reality of their young lives: watching their mothers iron, and thinking of a story; watching a certain heavy drinking friend, relative, neighbor, and thinking of a story, watching children in church, and themselves in school, and thinking of a story.” (57)

“You feel ashamed of yourself for those ideas, until you get to realize that lots and lots of people (maybe everyone) has them –– at least sometimes.” (59)

“With a novel . . . [if] you take things slowly, and get your head connected to what you are reading then (how do I say it?) the story becomes ours. No I don’t mean ‘your story’; I mean you have imagined what those people look like, and how they speak the words in the book, and how they move around, and so you and the writer are in cahoots . . . feel his isolation, his bad luck, and react with anger at the wrongs done him.” (64)

“Some novelists, of course, are forthrightly concerned with ethical reflection.” (82)

“The stories are emotionally powerful and have a strong effect on the students.” (89)

“We got together weekly from then on.” (93)

The Gleanings Project: Jesus Feminist: An Invitation to Revisit the Bible’s View of Women

“Walking on Water” 11″ x 14″, Acrylic on Paper, DS

Bessey, Sarah. Jesus Feminist: An Invitation to Revisit the Bible’s View of Women. New York: NY, Simon & Schuster, Inc., 2013.

492 words

“Let us be women who love.” (McVicker in Bessey, xvii)

“Let us rise the questions of our time.” ( “ , xviii)

“Let’s head outside. I want us to sit around a fire pit ringed with stones and watch the moon move over the Pacific. I want us to drink good red wine . . . I want us to talk about this –– really talk about womanhood, church, the labels, and where we go from here . . . we are wounded, we are wounding.” (Bessey, 1)

“Let us discover how we can disagree beautifully.” (2)

“Let’s be done lobbying for a seat at the Table.” (3)

“I want to be outside with the misfits . . . the ones rejected by the Table . . . Aslan is on the move.” (4)

“Years ago, I practiced anger and cynicism, like a pianist practices scales, over and over.” (5)

“This night, by the bonfire, I want to wrap us up in the warmth of good stories, of strong love, of prophetic callings.” (8)

“Jesus made a feminist of me.” (11)

“It might surprise antifeminists and anti-Christians equally to know that feminism has its roots tangled up with the strong Christian women’s commitment to the temperance movement, suffragists movements, and in America and England in particular, the abolitionist movements of the nineteenth century.” (12)

“At the core, feminism simply consists of the radical notion that women are people, too.” (13)

“I’ll say that again, louder, and I’ll stand up beside our small bonfire and shout it out loud. I’ll scare the starfish and the powerful alike: patriarchy is not God’s dream for humanity. It never was, it never will be.” (14)

“[Jesus] love us. On our own terms. He treats us as equals to the men around him; he listens; he does not belittle; he honors us; he teaches us; he includes us ­–– calls us all beloved.” (17)

“Jesus subverted the social norms dictating how a rabbi spoke to women.” (18)

“When Mary of Bethany sat at his feet, she was in the posture of a rabbinical student.” (19)

“The lack of women among the twelve disciples isn’t prescriptive or a precedent for exclusion of women and more than the choice of twelve Jewish men excludes Gentile men from leadership.” (22)

“Jesus would teach or quote a portion of the Law and then move us forward from our current places toward God’s original intent.” (27)

“God’s dream for humanity is clearly not slavery.” (28)

“All this battling to eradicate human trafficking happens despite the fact that there is actually no specific verse in Scripture that prohibits the buying and selling of human beings . . .  because we understand God’s creative purpose for humanity.” (29)

“In addition to slavery, the Church has, in general, dismissed polygamy, the buying and selling of daughters, stonings . . .  and many other culturally accepted practices. God is still moving, still active, in our world today.” (30)

Meandering Through the Writings of Others as a Lament Practice: Laurus

“Two Chairs, West Vancouver Waterfront” Phone Photo, DS

Here are my explorations for today:

Vodolazkin, Eugene. Laurus: The International Bestseller . Oneworld Publications. Kindle Edition. 2013.

999 words for blog

*** Mones*** (Arsenius was not a woman.) *** She prostrated herself in the church vestibule and lay there for several hours, requesting but one thing for her baby: life. *** 1441 *** The land has belonged to the “White Nights” gardening association since 1991. The group’s members unearth large quantities of bones and missile shells along with potatoes, but they are in no rush to complain to the local authorities. They know nobody would grant them other land anyway. ***  Christofer did not consider this precaution excessive, despite knowing the pestilence left houses on its own, over time. *** Christofer also helped with bedroom matters. *** And how can it be that women let men like this near them? What a nightmare! *** him. If there was no erection, Christofer suggested supplementing meals with expensive anise and almond or an inexpensive mint syrup; all increase the seed and promote bedroom thoughts. *** Christofer did not exactly believe in herbs; more likely he believed God’s help would come, through any herb . . . *** Christofer’s help to his fellow man was not limited to medicine. *** Christofer had stood, unable to believe his wife was dead: she had just been alive. *** Arseny loved the smell in his grandfather’s house. The smell was composed of the aromas of the multitude of herbs drying under the ceiling, and that smell did not exist anywhere else. Arseny also loved the peacock feathers a pilgrim had brought to Christofer. *** His grandfather observed the icon’s mysterious current flow into Arseny’s hands. *** The heavens had long appealed to him and the attraction became irresistible after this announcement that his grandmother, whom he had never seen, dwelled there. *** He took Arseny to the monastery so his spirit would strengthen along with his flesh. *** windflower *** Everything is about prayer after all. *** After that, they often ran across the wolf in the forest. The wolf sat beside them when they ate lunch. *** When they kissed his hair, they felt as if they had drunk from a deep, fresh spring. There was something in Arseny that eased lives that were anything but simple. People await the plague scourge. *** Grass affectionately rubbed against their feet and meteorites flew above their heads. Arseny felt the warmth of Christofer’s hand on the back of his head. *** And that is how Our Lord Jesus Christ ascended the tree of the cross and imparted to us His purest blood to heal sin. *** Death is not just the bitterness of parting. It is also the joy of liberation. *** He could write in the morning, afternoon, and evening. *** He wrote down his doctorly prayers . . . *** For Christofer, the written word seemed to regulate the world. *** The child read the birch-bark manuscripts out loud. *** Arseny read the Alexander Romance constantly. He read it sitting on the bench . . . He settled at the boy’s feet and listened to the unusual narration. He carefully followed the events in the life of the Macedonian king, right along with Arseny. *** The wolf would approach Arseny at the first words of the Alexander Romance. He settled at the boy’s feet and listened to the unusual narration. He carefully followed the events in the life of the Macedonian king, right along with Arseny. *** So he would hold forth about the qualities of wood, about what all of us in the quarter already knew: that oak is hard and pine is soft. *** The heads of yellow buttercups touch his face. It is ticklish and he smiles. The wolf wags his tail the slightest bit. *** His spirit, however, continued to keep watch in the body, but only two words remained: I forgive. The scoundrels, though, continued roaming the region, languishing as they awaited Judgment Day. *** To avoid immortalizing serious sins, the elder did not write them down. *** An aroma of freshly planed wood spread through the house along with the smell of herbs. *** drink a tisane of lavender *** And so began the first day without Christofer, and Arseny wept away the first half of that day. *** The cemetery was quiet. It had been visited rarely . . . *** The visitors were the only link connecting Arseny to life. *** It was a gaze. *** He delighted in her red glow. And how the linen thread holding her cross rose and fell on her collarbone in time with her breathing. *** And his sweat mixed with her sweat. And then his flesh entered her flesh. In the morning, they saw the linen had become crimson. *** Ustina was not separate from his love for her. *** To Arseny, the red-haired girl seemed like clay in his hands, clay from which he molded himself a Wife. *** Ustina asked Arseny to teach her to read and write. *** Arseny rubbed her temples with dill oil or a wild-strawberry tisane. *** Ustina’s joys were more vivid than her sufferings. *** The coming of a new day, without Ustina, was intolerable for him. *** You have a difficult journey, for the story of your love is only beginning. Everything, O Arseny, will now depend on the strength of your love. And, of course, on the strength of your prayers, too. *** 

Meandering Through the Writings of Others as a Practice of Lament: Wise Blood

“Forest Patio” DS

Here are the explorations for today:

O’Connor, Flannery. Wise Blood. 1952.

992 words

*** unflirtatious manner and shy taciturnity lit up by a mordant wit, and a bright, if slightly malicious smile *** effective conveyance of sense of reality *** In 1946, she wrote a story The Geranium, written for her thesis, to Accent Magazine – themes in her work, displacement, homelessness, homesickness *** read widely *** majored in sociology *** liked poet T.S. Eliot *** When I read Henry James, I feel like something is happening to me. That’s what I want for my readers. *** Good fiction must be experienced., to make you hear, see, feel. *** Even under the pressure of her situation her gifts flowered. *** It seemed like time went by so fast you couldn’t tell if you were young or old. *** I reckon you think you been redeemed, he repeated. She blushed. After a second, she said yes, life was an inspiration and then she said she was hungry. *** The steward placed him with three youngish women dressed like parrots. *** If you’ve been redeemed, he said, I wouldn’t want to be. *** Haze laughed. The porter jerked the ladder off suddenly with a wrench of her arm that sent the boy clutching at the blanket into the berth. *** His grandfather had been a circuit preacher, a waspish old man who had ridden over three counties with Jesus hidden in his head like a stinger. *** The boy didn’t need to hear it. There was already a deep black wordless conviction in him that the way to avoid Jesus was to avoid sin. *** He had a strong confidence in his power to resist evil. *** He at all times needed to study his soul and assure himself it was not there. *** When the arm finally let him go, he was pleased to think that he was still uncorrupted. *** No one observing him would know that he had no place to go. *** Make yourself at home, she said simply. *** The glaring lights from the store windows made his blue suit look purple. *** She had on a black dress and a black knitted cap . . . *** What the hell you think you doing? *** He ain’t been here but two days, I’ll look after him. *** This is one more hard place to make friends in. *** The blind man gave his edgy laugh, listen boy, he said, you can’t run away from Jesus. Jesus is a fact. *** Listen here I am a preacher myself and I preach the truth. *** People ain’t frankly here. You ain’t from here, but you ain’t friendly neither. *** You act like you got wiser blood than anybody else, he said, but you ain’t! I’m the one has it, not you, me. *** Since the night before was the first time he had slept with any woman, he had not been very successful with Mrs. Watts. *** Mrs. Watts’ grin was as curved and sharp as the blade of a sickle. *** I want to see him about this car, Haze said. *** He didn’t want anybody watching him because he hadn’t driven a car in four or five years. *** Look like ever day I lose fifteen good minutes standing here waiting for you. *** Then he knew that whatever was expected of him was only just the beginning. *** ethics of taking things out of context and changing the author’s meaning *** He noted the number of the house and a sign on it that said, Rooms for Rent. *** My church is the church without Christ, lady, he said. *** The fake blind man leaned forward and smiled. You still have a chance to save yourself if you repent, he said . . .  *** A bastard? He couldn’t see how a preacher who had blinded himself for Jesus could have a bastard. ***  It was hilly and shady and the country showed to advantage on either side. One side was dense with honeysuckle and the other was open and slanted down to a telescoped view of the city. *** What do I owe you? Nothing the man said with the same level look, not a thing. *** He had always been given to stealing but he had never saved before. At the same time, he began cleaning up his room. *** The fountain counter was pink and green marble linoleum and behind it there was a red-headed waitress in a lime-colored uniform and a pink apron. *** He abandoned the idea of seducing her and tried to protect himself. *** You better make it work if you want to eat after I’m gone! He was drunk but he meant it. *** If Haze had believed in praying, he would have prayed for a disciple . . . *** There were two men and a woman with a cat-faced baby sprawled over her shoulder. *** And when you talk about Jesus you need a little music, don’t you friends? *** It’s based on my own personal intirpitation of the Bible friends . . . *** I’m an artist type. If you want to get anywhere in religion you got to keep it sweet. *** No truth behind all truth, is what this church preach! *** He had darkened his face and hands with shoe polish so if he had been seen in the act he would have been taken for a colored person . . . *** His life was so full of so many happenings like that that it would seem he should have been more sensitive to his times of danger. *** Enoch’s humiliation was so sharp and panful that he turned around three times before he realized which direction he wanted to go in. *** Her first plan was to marry him and then have him committed to the state institution for the insane but gradually her plan had become to marry him and keep him. *** 

. . .

Meandering Through the Writings of Others as a Practice of Lament: The Plague

“Pandemic Wildflower Garden”

Phone Photo DS

Many of us went for daily walks during the height of the pandemic. It was heartening to see so many friendly faces in the neighbourhood. We were survivors.

As I practice lament personally and for others, here are my explorations:

Chong, Kevin. The Plague. 2018. (Prof. of Creative Writing, U.B.C.)

751 words

Multi-genre research *** characterization *** setting *** original metaphors *** Close observation of human behaviour *** stories within stories *** different ways of providing information *** understanding of culture *** irony, non-believer actually Christ figure *** well-observed sense of place *** prophetic *** cross-cultural masterpiece *** They all attempted a futile struggle to forget what happened. *** They made sure to wish their exes happy birthday by text message. They visited their parents on weekends. They overate on Saturdays and hiked on Sundays. *** Her humour had grown caustic in the past year. *** It had been different since Elyse fell ill Rieux thought. It was the difference between going to church and feeling one’s heart churn in the refrain of a hymn. *** humour then pathos *** narrator interjections *** story offered through the eyes of five? witnesses especially a DTES male doctor, male reporter, the mayor, a visiting author from Hong Kong *** rich cultural detail *** The yo-yo he owned was an indulgence and an aspirational purchase, it was made for professionals and produced a pleasant ratcheting sound as it unwound. *** Rieux was arrogant – like many doctors Saddhu had met. *** There’s been a flu in the neighbourhood. *** He’d kicked a dead rat. *** She’d needed to quit; she needed the band width. *** Tso was reminded that ‘sorry’ was a form of punctuation in Canada. *** As she gave her remarks, pausing for chuckles, a parallel talk took shape in her mind. *** The lecture was unexpectedly pleasant, but she’d reached her half-life of fun. *** Unlike most of her contemporaries who explored mixed media and abstraction . . . *** He’d passed on to his only son his hair, his slight stature, and according to Mrs. Rieux, his taste for argument. *** In Hong Kong she was waited on by a Filipina helper hired by her older sister. *** It was the better room, with a mountain view, the one they had set aside for a nursery. *** He felt the superintendent’s shame reflect back onto him. *** The swelling of his lymph nodes startled Rieux. The doctor slept poorly that night. *** The next morning before work he found six rats. *** For the first few days, the results were kept undercover. The name of the disease had ugly historical connotations, and the antibiotics used to treat modern cases were highly effective. *** Many ascribed the fatalities to a resurgence in the drub problems. *** The Coastal Health Authority released information on hand-washing and warnings to stay away from rodents and wild life but only a few people knew someone affected by the illness. *** Her extended stopover in Vancouver during a public health crisis was an opportunity for reflection . . . *** More and more people were wearing face masks in public. *** People were coughing in the library, coughing into their hands then typing their queries at the Internet terminals afterward, she went to the drugstore and bought hand sanitizer. *** He swiped his Compass card as he rushed through the Skytrain gates . . . *** They met in a way that is typical of Vancouver aquaintanceships. *** I don’t plan to die anytime soon even with the pandemic outside. *** The whisky tasted like the ocean, a shoeshine, and a campfire. *** We are trying to do things differently. *** Guess who we want to contact the mayor for comments? *** New faces ran our scant groceries through the register . . . *** He has to be monitored closely. *** I’m done hiding, I can meet you anywhere. *** I thought the people of Vancouver needed some distraction. *** There’s too much distrust of doctors. *** Rieux craved exercise and air. *** You made your volunteers sign waivers. *** Since the holidays there have been funerals galore. *** She was uncommonly beautiful in a way that made Siddhu envy women for their ability to fawn over young children without becoming criminally suspect. *** The dying spoke with no fear of consequences. *** They watched the seagulls gather around the crust and he threw them another piece. *** Isn’t it possible not to believe in God but still feel his influence? *** He had become, as he feared, a stranger to his own sons. *** The other night he’s tried to kiss her in the restaurant lounge. He wasn’t her type. *** This caution was not heeded. *** Nurses came and went. *** Any history contains contradictions. ***

…

Heavenly Experience

In my visit  a while ago, to an Eastern Orthodox church in Vancouver, it was indeed a heavenly experience to sit with a cupola of saints as a cloud of witnesses above, larger than life colourful paintings all around the domed room and a large circular 18 carat gold, gently lit, chandelier hanging low over us as we worshipped. 

I felt at home as a Christian artist, yet uncomfortable too. Later it dawned on me that I was the only woman present wearing pants and not a dress. I recognized this tradition from my grandmother’s church.

“Pink Pampas Grass” Photo by DS

Reading About Cultures

“Pilgrimage (detail)” Acrylic on Canvas, DS

There will be all cultures in heaven.  Rah provides a history of challenges and a way forward to embrace humanity in all of our colours.

Readings from Soong-Chan Rah’s Book: “Many Colors: Cultural Intelligence for a Changing Church:

Stories have the power to build and develop community on multiple levels. In Western approaches to communication, we tend to focus on facts and information. Truth is communicated through statistics, numbers, dates, and information based on cognitive knowledge and is usually expressed through logical rhetoric. In certain non-Western approaches to communication, stories that evoke feelings and draw out a more emotional response may be the norm. The difference between these cultural expressions is that effective storytelling may have different intentions and approaches arising out of these different cultural values.

Aristotle stated, “When storytelling goes bad, the result is decadence.” Society and culture cannot progress and be transformed without real, honest, and powerful stories. The church also loses its influence if it fails to engage in powerful storytelling.

A speaker will often close a sermon with a stirring and inspiring story. My earliest memory of public speaking was sharing my testimony before the entire church when I was a high school student since, like many American evangelicals, I was encouraged to share my personal testimony almost immediately after I became a Christian. Stories have the power to communicate elements of our faith in ways that a lecture cannot. When in doubt, share your story.

In our current American cultural context, some of our best storytellers are found through film. As a pastor, I found it fascinating that my congregants would connect to my referencing a movie more than a book.

Media have the power to transcend culture in ways that direct verbal communication cannot. Eric Law *explains the equalizing power of media by asserting that “verbal communication alone is a biased means of communication, favoring people who have a strong sense of individual power and verbal ability.

 It is important that a character undergoes credible and authentic change in the course of the narrative, keeping the setting in the forefront. A conversion story, for example, must not occur out of the blue—it must reveal the work and character of God, as well as the transformation that can take place in a man or woman. (3) Conflict Every worthwhile story needs an element of conflict. What difficulties is the character going through, and how do these affect change in him or her? As Christians, we are especially concerned about transformation. How is it accomplished? by a logical argument? through convincing rhetoric? No, true re-creation comes from the Spirit of God.

When Art is Not for Sale

“Intolerance and Materialism” Acrylic and Ink on Canvas, DS

Recently my art was exhibited in a public alternative space.  It went mostly ignored until the last day of the show.  When I was taking down the paintings and carrying them out to be packed for transport, someone brought out the next one for me.  Someone insisted they take my picture in front of them. Four people grabbed my arm and attention and introduced themselves and asked if the art was for sale.  They seemed to like it without really looking at what it was.

As an introvert in a hurry to meet someone a few kilometres away, I said to the first: “I can carry them.” To the second, who wanted me to pose here and there and not where I wanted to, I blurted: “I am in a rush.” The last group, I fear, saw that I was very non-artist-like.  I said, nice to meet you, and quickly left, extricating myself from their kindly grip.

The display was installed to promote thinking and awakening to new ways to consider the Christmas story. The ideas visually presented were not heresy but they were alternative like imagining what Mary and Jesus would look like in today’s culture.  I dreamed one night that angels had meetings to discuss how they might help us with our issues.

The everyday person, educated but not in art, has probably been to European galleries exhibiting traditional, historical paintings.  The new, the avant-garde for them, is maybe Van Gogh or Picasso in extreme.  Perhaps anything contemporary does not register on their consciousness as art.  After all, as a non-musician uneducated in music appreciation, classical music has only appealed to me in the past decade.  My rhythms flow in the era of disco and ballad.  After all, I am a narrative painter.

We need more shows of art that is not for sale: art that can challenge our current ways of thinking and being in a changing world.  Lately most shows that offer art, not-for-sale, are self-funded by the increasingly silenced artist.  The arts used to be totally supported by the church.  Patrons paid artists to paint for the church.

Art reflects life. The way a society supports the arts reveals its inner health and outer vibrancy.  Perhaps we need venues for viewing and circles for discussion.  I like that ad I think it is for Levi’s jeans where everyone of many cultures just dance together to the great music.  Art is like that.  Art for art sake, not sale.

“Art Makes Us” Vancouver Art Gallery

http://vanartgallery.bc.ca/the_exhibitions/upcoming_exhibitions.html

First Time Ever

An e-mail arrives to the in box with the subject line: No Service Tomorrow Due to Snow. The church is closed – what? No one can be found in time to clear the parking lot. It is unsafe. A contractor wrote: Even if we were able to plow today it would only expose the ice and make a very bad situation worse.

I guess it is good to know that the pastor has our safety in mind. Now it is on me to deal with the disappointment of the day’s festivities being cancelled – including the Blue Christmas service. It allows me to take stock.

These words came to me after breakfast: The service is cancelled for the first time in the 25 years I have been going there. This snow is too much. The driveway is impassible, the 30 steps a risk to ankles, and the car covered with ice again. It must be said though that we are warm, we have light, we are together and we have enough food. God knows the situation.

We are thrown back on our own resources. We must worship God on our own without the benefit of a worship team today and pray depending only on the Spirit’s prompting. I found help at youtube.com:

“When I’m with You” Citizen Way

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-A2jGZfgYH0

Ken Shigematsu’s book “God in My Everything” comes to mind. The next chapter focus in giving Spiritual Direction will be “Sabbath: Oasis for Body and Soul”. We need to rest from our activities. We are invited to ‘question our assumptions” about life and express our love to God. In doing this we trust that God will look after all that concerns us while we take a break. I work on making some Christmas collage cards.

It has been several days now since I have been ‘out and about’. I injured my neck and shoulder early in the week clearing snow from my vehicle. Ice and heat packs have been my intimate companions. I wait for our name to come up on the list for driveway clearing with a local company. We are certainly not alone in our condition of isolation.

A holiday of sorts has begun. I find myself thinking in different ways about many things. Who could really use some extra prayer today? Should I do some contemplative knitting with my sore neck? It is only fall; will we get through winter this year? Will the turmoil of my time commitments falling like dominoes make me draw back from being involved? Should we move to a place where the streets have better snow removal?

Yet the day, as it wears on, becomes a true holy day. I feel more at peace. I remember when God has looked after us in worse situations. I breathe. I trust. I pray. I pray for my family and for those who would have attended the Blue Christmas service this evening.

Hope arrives in the form of dripping snow. The trees are becoming less white as clumps of snow slide down the boughs to thump on the covered grass underneath. Like my knowledge of the green hidden under the white, my faith is there under the fears –

“All will be well and all will be well and all manner of thing will be well”

Julian of Norwich.

In Vancouver snow means recovery from trauma – that of realizing that we are not totally in control of our lives. I have faced one of my basic fears – being snowed in – and discovered again the real meaning of Christmas – that God’s Son is with us – Emmanuel.

I am OK. I am rested. Tomorrow will come with its health and work. God invites us as friends into the changing plans.

John 15:11-15 The Message 

“I’ve told you these things for a purpose: that my joy might be your joy, and your joy wholly mature. This is my command: Love one another the way I loved you. This is the very best way to love. Put your life on the line for your friends. You are my friends when you do the things I command you. I’m no longer calling you servants because servants don’t understand what their master is thinking and planning. No, I’ve named you friends because I’ve let you in on everything I’ve heard from the Father.

“30 Snowy Steps” DS