Archive for the ‘Sunday Sermon’ Category
Spoke too soon. . .
I had no idea when I quipped about the cold of snow, that snow was in the forecast. Snow is supposed to arrive on Monday, but those white flakes on the roofline in the photo mean the forecast got it wrong. The wintery mix has arrived and at least one person in my house is giddy about it. Every 5 minutes I get a weather update shouted up the stairs, “MOM! The snow is bigger.” “Mom! It’s sticking.”
I don’t think this is the storm for a winter wonderland. My guess is, lots of white stuff will come down and turn to mush upon introduction to the pavement. But it is a harbinger of the winter to come. Snow before Thanksgiving. Despite the passing thrill that white in the air brings, I quickly go into survivor mode. La Nina is never kind. I’m bracing for the worst. Someone hold my hand!
Now, none of this is a sermon. But I’m cognizant that last week’s sermon never arrived. So, I’m making up by being all wordy and pointless. (I’ll let you gather what implications there might be) I know I’ve not been as present as I’d like, but November has been filled with dental appointments and manic Mireio work. Both are subjects my family have long passed boredom over, so I thought I’d spare all of you.
However, November is also that month where we collectively pause to contemplate the blessings in our lives. And while I’ve not been Â writing it, I have been thinking it: I am utterly blessed by the readers of this blog. Your presence (here, email, facebook, twitter, real life!) enriches my life in so many ways. Thank you.
I suspect I will be back before the holiday. But should I take the week off… or should you… please know that I am full of gratitude for the part you play in my life. And I am praying for you.
My Thanksgiving wish for you is that you find something, like snow outside your window, to be giddy over, something that makes you pause and be in the moment, something that reminds you just how lovely life is.
Blessings and Happy Thanksgiving,
Are you counting your blessings or someone else’s?
I read this Harold Coffin quotation that has me thinking: “Envy is the art of counting the other fellow’s blessings instead of your own.” Â And that reminds me of this old hymn I used to sing as a child, “Count your blessings, name them one by one.” And that has me thinking I’ll redouble my efforts, tuck some of my blessings into the spiritual piggy bank we all carry at the center of our souls.
And it makes me wonder, what blessings are you counting today?
to your family, to your friends, to the people you meet along the way. On the internet, while standing in a long line at the post office, to the person “just doing their job” on the phone. Speak kindly to your children, to other people’s children, to the dog when you’ve had a hard day. Speak kindly to yourself! Because every word does matter!
Note: Typically, I post a photo for Sunday’s Sermon. However, this poster has been on my mind all week. For more information on Love is Louder and to help turn up the volume on Tuesday click here:Â Love is Louder. Â Poster by Studio Mela
Some keep the Sabbath going to Church-
I keep it, staying at Home-
With a Bobolink for a Chorister-
And an Orchard, for a Dome-
Some keep the Sabbath in Surplice-
I just wear my Wings-
And instead of tolling the Bell, for Church,
Our little Sexton-sings.
God preaches, a noted Clergyman-
And the sermon is never long,
So instead of getting to Heaven, at least-
I’m going, all along. Â ~~Emily Dickinson
A special thank you to Gwen, for sending me the poem. It serves as a lovely way to begin again.
For years I thought that
talking to the Gods
was an exercise
ridiculous unrequited prayer
done by staring
at old cold books
with mean small print
But then I discovered
it at all
God can be found in the â€˜thank youâ€™ voice of the guy at the counter
at the 7-11
the quietness of a strangerâ€™s parking lot smile
the rattle of weeds across a dry summer Mojave
watching my untethered fingers jump jump jumping
across the keys
deep in the middle of typing three hours worth of unscrubbed truth
God â€“ for me â€“ turned out to be
a conscious choice
a self-evoked experience
~~Dan Fante 2008