"To the world, you might be just one person but to one person, you might be the world."

I bought a card last week that has this saying written on it, author unknown. I bought it without thinking about who I’d send it to, just knowing that the right moment would arrive. It capsulizes the Geroge Bailey syndrome….from the movie It’s a Wonderful Life. We might never really know what our lives mean to others in the greater scheme of the world until -like George Bailey we get the chance to see what the world would be like without us.  We walk through our days not being fully aware of the impact we make upon the world. We do our work, our play, our lives, not really being fully aware of how our lives truly touch anothers’.

Yesterday I heard someone tell a story about something I did for her that I hardly remember doing. I had no idea that a very simple act, done at just the right moment, could have made such an impact on her life. It was nothing big but to her it meant a great deal, in fact provided a kind of turning point for her.

I leave this morning for a three day retreat for the Board of Ordained Ministry, interviewing people who have heard God’s call on their life to become ministers in the United Methodist Church. These are people whose greatest hope is to make a difference in the world, in lives,fulfilling that call. Many have come to this place through hardship and sacrifice,for others it has been a very well defined path.

All of us, I believe, have the great hope of making a difference in the world, bringing love and kindness, hope and courage, a simple sense of mercy and comfort to those we know or those who come into our daily walk.I believe the Holy calls each of us to see how being just one person is a gift and how reaching out to others might bring the world to that person. In this call, in this living, I believe the Author is anything but unknown.

***I may or may not be able to write the next couple of days….it will depend on the internet connections.

A Jewish saying goes: God created humans because God loves stories. I love stories, how about you? I read lots of nonfiction but for true enjoyment, the ability to relax, to slow down and savor, to walk in another’s shoes,you can’t beat a really good story. Jesus, of course, knew this. His teaching technique, if you will, was all about stories. He didn’t gather his followers around him and unveil his five-year plan, his goals for spreading love and justice, his objectives for transformation. No, he told a really,really good story. And those who listened found themselves in his words and their lives were changed. In turn, many of them continued to tell the stories…..and here we are today, people of faith, continuing the great storytelling tradition.

The author Madeline L’Engle, also a wonderful spinner of tales with such books as A Wrinkle In Time, was asked if the she believed the Bible. Her answer was" I do not believe that all of the stories in the Bible are fact, but I do believe they are true." Her wise words, in my opinion, are what make the Bible the "living word". Our job is to read and study these ancient words and find how we fit into the story, how we find truth in them and then how that truth inspires our living.

I have often said every church could simply read the story of the Prodigal Son every week for a year. At the end of that year, I believe we would still find ourselves learning from the story. In this story I sometimes find myself as the Prodigal, other times I can behave like the father. There is always a part of me that acts like the other brother. feeling cheated and wronged….and then what about all those "missing" from the story? The Mother? Sister?

Sounds like this weekend might be another chance to curl up in front of the fire with a cup of cocoa and a good book. May you find yourself held in the comfort and the beauty of a really good story….go ahead…..it is our faith tradition!

I am a regular listener of the Morning Show on MPR. Dale and Jim Ed never fail to make me laugh, cry, think. They also introduce me to new music and musicians I wouldn’t have discovered otherwise. This morning they played a song called "Witness to Hope" which was not only lovely but also had very beautiful words….and a challenge.

Be a Witness to Hope. I was particularly taken with the song because I have just finished reading The Middle of Everywhere:Helping Refugees Enter the American Community by Mary Pipher. Pipher, a psychologist and author, has been a cultural broker for countless refugees from all over the world. The book is filled with stories of terror, poverty, torture, grief, oppression, racism, and unbelievable government bureaucracy. But it is also filled with amazing stories of hope. Hope for a better life. Hope for a brighter future for children. Hope for peace. Hope for understanding and compassion. Hope for an end to suffering.Hope for dreams fulfilled.

In reading this book I was humbled by the people who gave everything they had for their children or another relative, sometimes even their lives. The experiences of these courageous people filled me with humility. I can’t even imagine living through what so many did to be in this country. And the fact that so many of the stories were also filled with an audacious hope challenges me.

In my place of privilege, my safe life, my comfortable home, where I have more than enough, how could I not also make it my daily work to be a witness to hope? It is the least I can do to honor the hard work and lives of these new citizens, these new neighbors.It is the least I can do to nurture this quality which has the power to transform lives…to transform the world.

The author quotes William Saroyan: "The most interesting thing about the world is its fantastic and unpsychoanalyzed charatct, its wretched and gallant personality, its horrible idiocy and its magnificent intelligence, its unbelievable cruelty and its equally unbelievable kindness, its gorilla stupor, its canary cheerfulness, its thundering divinity, and its whimpering commonness."

Hope………may I…..may you…..may we….be witnesses of hope this day.

I am  looking out my living room window at the sun glistening off the snow, illuminating the house across the street, making the branches of the evergreen magical on this cold, winter morning. I hope I never become jaded to the beauty of winter morning light…..what color is it? Blue? Gray? Teal? Silver? The branches of the leafless trees shine golden into the bright morning.

Francis Bacon wrote that God’s first creature was Light. Light does have an aliveness that becomes a companion to us. We move to its source the way a cat follows the sunlight spilling warmth on the floor, first here, then there, always moving into its glow.. Particularly in these days of cold and darkness, we long for light, the light of the sun, the light of a favorite reading lamp, candlelight.

Candlelight…….have you ever noticed how beautiful everyone looks in candelight? Have you ever noticed how even the most dreary room can be transformed by candelight? In worship when we bring candlelight into the room we are claiming that the Light of Christ is in our midst. At the end of the service when the acolyte carries the flame out of the sanctuary, we are claiming that the Light of Christ also lives and exists in the world.

Each year at Christmas my Book Club and our significant others gather for dinner and celebration. The food is always wonderful, the company filled with history and love. We have been together for over 20 years and have known the joy of new love,weddings,babies, exciting careers.  We have also known cancer and divorce, the loss of parents and loved ones. As we sit down to share a meal together,candles flickering on the table and on the faces all around, there is always a moment when I pause and take in the table and see beauty…the beauty of those dear to me whose love I have known in countless ways. I allow my gaze to rest on each one knowing that this is what heaven looks like, feels like, is like…..bathed in the Light.

Maybe tonight is a good night to have dinner by candlelight…even if it is frozen pizza, it will taste better and everyone present will look more beautiful…..and perhaps be more thankful.

Today was a day to "let be." With the snow arriving just before everyone started their commute, it was clear that getting anywhere quickly would be a certain frustration if not an impossibility. So, equipped with good coffee, some entertaining music and laughter on the radio, I decided to just "let be". I had countless things to accomplish, but it was cold, and slippery, and I saw too many cars that had spun out or into something so taking the slow route seemed to be the best choice. It was not a day for hurrying.

"Letting be" is a good way to spend the day. You live in the moment. You let yourself off the hook. You become gentle with yourself and others. There is a wisdom in the rhythm of letting be. This wisdom says: slow down, breathe, be still and know that God is in the moments.

Annie Dillard writes: "How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives." Today it felt good to me to spend my day "letting be".  The snow and cold were the invitation and I accepted. Tomorrow there will plenty of time for all that must be done.

It would be so easy to write today about the cold…..but I won’t. Instead I will tell you about the blessings of my weekend. On Saturday I spent time at the Como Park Conservatory…..what a needed break of humidity and color in these frigid days. I highly recommend it. The minute you walk in you are assaulted by moisture, your skin remembers and thanks you by instantly feeling softer, younger. The colors of the spring flowers…yellow, hot and pale pink, lavender,peach ….and the scent of the lilies provide a reminder of things to come.

Walking in the room with fig trees and orchids, I saw a starfruit hanging gingerly near the top of a tree. The orchids, some fragile and gentle, others bold and bright in their color, their intricate form. Looking at them, I marveled at their existence. How could such a beautiful and amazing sight exist in a world that often seems cold and unwelcoming? For me, it is the certainty of a Source much greater than my imagination that brings such beauty into the world. I experienced the blessing of these blooms, which were tagged to show their once-a-year blooming-all in January or February no less! What a blessing!

But as I stood gazing up at a huge tree, reaching to the very top of the conservatory ceiling, a man I’d noticed earlier came near. I had observed him sitting among the ferns, robed, reading the Koran. His peaceful countenance drew my attention. Children were flying by, others spoke loudly around him, but he remained calm, centered, prayerful. Now, as I stood looking skyward, he stopped and asked if he might pass by me. I was for some reason stunned by this act of simple  graciousness. As I said yes, he looked straight into my eyes and said "God bless you."  I  returned the words.

In the cold of winter, blessings come to us….in the beauty of a flower, the scent of summers to come, the healing humidity and the gentle blessing of a stranger, offering a connection with the Divine.

"What actions are most excellent? To gladden the heart of a human being. To feed the hungry. To help the afflicted. To lighten the sorrow of the sorrowful. To remove the wrongs of the injured. That person is the most beloved of God who does most good to God’s creatures." The Prophet Muhammed

Happy Groundhog Day! Here we are in the "in between" days, after the Christmas rush of energy, before the reflective time of Lent and the celebration of Easter. What better way to mark the days than to honor – a woodchuck, a groundhog! Seriously, there is something wonderful about the attention given to this little creature. Seeing the men all dressed up in their Groundhog Day finery, pulling this little bucktoothed, furry animal out of a cage and placing him center stage, always makes me laugh.(The report is that he didn’t see his shadow so spring is on the way!)

In a book I was reading this week about the many lesser holidays found in January and February, the words"If we can hallow February, we can hallow any time" rang true. More than once this week when I asked the mostly rhetorical question, "How are you?", people have replied:"It’s February." So to hallow, or to make holy, these days seems quite the task.

I am reminded of the movie Groundhog Day starring Bill Murray as a cranky, self-centered news reporter sent to cover the story of the groundhog seeing his shadow in Pennsylvania. Bill moves through the day being rude, dismissive, even abusive to waitresses, townspeople, a panhandler,his co-workers, everyone he meets.  Each morning as his alarms goes off he find the same song playing, the same weather report,indeed he finds he is living the same day -Groundhog Day- over and over again.

February can seem like that…living the same cold, gray, sunless day over and over again. But as Bill Murray slowly begins to realize in this movie, it is his – our – responsibility to "hallow" the day. Slowly he begins to become vulnerable to the people around him, he treats his co-workers with respect and kindness, he generously gives momey to the person begging, he tells the waitress how beautiful she is. He recognizes the gift of the day…the holiness of the day…and in turn makes holy his life.

The poet Mary Oliver asks this question "Tell me, what do you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" 

Tell me, what do you plan to do with your one wild and precious Groundhog Day? May you find at the end of the day that it was not humdrum but filled with holiness.

For the past several days, I have been in the presence of tears. They have not been my tears but tears of others. They have been tears of pain, tears of frustration, tears of relief, tears of laughter, tears of grief. Tears come easily to me, always have. I come from a blessed family of "criers". We cry at the drop of a hat….at weddings, at funerals, at sporting events, at parades(don’t ask!) Every year on the first day of school when I see the children standing in line for the bus, I cry……the sheer potential of their lives overwhelms me.

Some might see this as a weakness. I don’t. Once after a worship service in which tears came to me during prayer, someone came up and said to me:"Don’t you worry about your tears. When we cry, we know the Holy Spirit is present."  I liked that. And I believe it to be true. In our tears we are bathed with salt water that reminds us of God’s brooding over the waters of Creation bringing forth Life.

Washington Irving said: "There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness but power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messages of overwhelming grief…..and unspeakable love."

There is certainly much in the world today that can bring us to tears. Somedays the tears of parents and loved ones who have lost children to war would threaten to drown us. Other days the tears of unspeakable love that guides caregivers in hospitals and nursing homes, that guide the new parent holding their child, could float an ocean liner. With each tear a story unfolds, a life is changed, a power is unleashed.

May God bless all the tears that flow this day………………

"I arise today through the strength of heaven, Light of sun, Radiance of moon, Splendor of fire, Speed of lightning, Swiftness of wind, Depth of sea, Stability of earth, Firmness of Rock. I arise today with God’s power to pilot me." St. Patrick

I arise today….and it’s cold! We are about to enter a stretch of very cold days. I have to admit I do love the prospect of it. There is something about knowing that it will be subzero that brings out my survivor instinct. It also, in some odd way, brings out my creative sensibilities. Perhaps it is the prospect of gathering around a warm fire or steaming cups of coffee, or the idea that one can "hole up" inside with justification. In any event, the cold temperatures awaken my desire to create…to knit a scarf, to bake a pie, to write a poem or story, to make a pot of soup, to curl up with a really good novel and lose myself in the gift of another person’s  imagination.

There is also the way in which, when properly dressed, you can walk outside and hear the snow actually crunch, sound carries differently when it is this cold. Colors take on new intensities,too. Did you see the sky last night at sunset? Vivid pink,red, orange and the sky was so blue. What a gift to behold!

I often say that humanity’s real purpose on earth is to give voice to the the beauty, the tragedy, the goodness, the awe that is God’s gift to us in Creation. We are the ones….the ones with language, with the ability to reflect, to speak or write our prayers, our poems, our gratitude for being alive. We are, in truth, here on earth to be Psalmists. While we know that all livings things have experiences of the world, we are the ones who write and tell the stories, who give thanks, who sing the songs and dance the dances. We do it first because we need to honor our relationship with our Creator. We do it secondly for ourselves because we must respond to the Holy’s movement in our lives. Thirdly, we do it so we will remember and our children and grandchildren will remember. This is our work.

So today, how will you do this work? How will you be a Psalmist? How will you tell of God’s movement in your life? The story is yours to tell…..so bundle up, stay warm, and let the Creative Spirit be your companion.

"Ultimately, we have just one moral duty: to reclaim large areas of peace in ourselves, more and more peace, and to reflect it toward others. And the more peace there is in us, the more peace there will be in our troubled world."  Etty Hillesum

These cold winter days are good for reflection. I believe we are a people hungry for reflection. We move at such a pace that we barely finish one task, one event, one relationship, before we move on to the next. Reflection seems to be missing from nearly all areas of life, even in the church. But reflection is what allows us to go the deep part of who we are, to peel away the layers of spin that bombard our senses and to get to the kernel of truth..wisdom…the Holy….that is at the heart of all.

It is so easy for me to become overwhelmed and hopeless about the places of war and violence in our world. It is also easy for me to become angry and strident about our leaders and their actions. And then I think of Etty Hillesum whose words are above. She was a young Jewish woman, full of life and creativity who was taken by the Nazis, held in a concentration camp and died there. Her writings are filled with hope and inspiration for seeing the beauty amidst all odds and claiming the ways of peace. For her, peace was more than an absence of war. It was the very way in which we move in the world. It was…it is…the way in which we live with ourselves, with our families, our friends, our enemies. It is a way of living that demands reflection.

I pray that today I may know this deep peace at my very core and that I may move in the world with a  peace that might heal a small, hurting part of this vast and beautiful world. I pray this prayer for you as well.