For those of you who know the park, you'll recognize this as a shot of Mills Lake taken on a snowshoe hike a couple of weeks ago. Alas, the ground is not white in Boulder nor has it been for more than an hour or two this season.
Sounds and smells of Christmas have enlivened gatherings with friends, old and new. A small but brightly decorated tree--the efforts of Sam and me--brings the scents and color of the season into this cozy abode. Lamb stew and Cornish hens graced the table, eaten heartily by friends. Cookie cutters are being gathered for that rolling, cutting and smearing of red and green across the likes of Santas and Rudolphs (photos will come later).
Yesterday's sermon reminded us to listen for God's voice in our dreams, in quiet moments, and to remember that His messages sometimes require us to step out, to show ourselves as the messy humans we are. The story of the Babe born in a manager reminds us that God's love is evoked in unexpected places. It reminds us of the new being born in us, no matter our ages. And it reminds us of deep love. May that love be born anew in all of us this Christmas season. May the light kindled in the Temple in Jerusalem long ago and celebrated in the Hanukkah season, continue to burn anew in our hearts all the year long. May all who remember losses this season, be reminded of joyous memories.
From Thomas Merton -- "Let me seek, then, the gift of silence . . . where everything I touch
is turned into a prayer: where the sky is my prayer, the birds are my
prayer, the wind in the trees is my prayer, for God is all in all.
Thoughts in Solitude
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