Dear friends, if our churches were open this weekend, many of us would hear the Gospel about the raising of Lazarus. It is one I’ve reflected on often, and I’d like to share one of my meditations on it with you.
Just click below and let the Holy Spirit guide you. Share it with as many people as you think need it, and if you can’t get it to work, shoot me an email and I’ll send it to you directly
Out of the Darkness
PS: If you see this on Facebook, it crossed over automatically. I gave up social media for Lent so I won’t see your comments there – leave them here instead so I am sure to get them!
Last month I
had the incredible experience of hiking the Camino de Santiago in Spain. Here’s
the third installment about the adventure!
People talk about leaving something behind on the Camino: grief or anger or other emotional baggage that weighs them down. I wondered if my walk would uncover something I needed to abandon in order to happily move forward. Oddly, I don’t think I left anything behind, but I did bring something back: fresh eyes for my everyday pilgrimage.
Hot off the presses! Guess who has a story on page 353? Yours truly! It will be available in bookstores on June 4 – the day before National Running Day. How cool is that?! And just so you know, the stories are for walkers, too
It was a gray dreary winter day. The house felt cold and empty, the weather was drizzly, and a rapidly accelerating runny nose was making me look like Rudolph. Some Christmas cheer was in order. It was time to buy my Christmas tree.
The tree farm I bought from last year was already sold out, so I went to our local produce shop where a few trees still stood in the lot. “Sorry, we don’t have any small ones left,” the clerk said. A particularly tall one caught my eye – densely packed pine needles, a star-ready top and a few ice crystals sparkling in its branches. “I have room in my house for a big tree,” I answered. “I just don’t have room in my car to get it there. Thanks anyway,” I called as I headed back through the parking lot.
“Hey, wait a minute,” he shouted after me. “Take ten dollars off that tree and I’ll deliver it for you. I’ll just follow you back to your house.” Ten dollars off and delivery? Tempting, I thought, but isn’t it too much to ask? I rocked from one foot to the other and pushed my hair behind my ears as I considered the generous offer.
“Really,” he said, “we do it all the time. You go pay my
wife inside, and I’ll get the truck.” There were other customers on the lot,
but he seemed oblivious to them. When I came back outside, a beat-up pickup
held my tree perched in its bed. My house was only about two miles away, but it
took ten careful minutes to get there. The clerk followed me slowly, taking the
turns gently to protect the tree and its branches.
Recently a strange and unexpected thing happened in the cemetery. It reminded me once again that worry does not do a bit of good!
I believe that Neil’s ashes belong in holy ground, not on a shelf or scattered, but it took a while for me to decide where that holy spot would be. Only recently, I chose a local cemetery plot, and our priest blessed it and stood with me as Neil was buried. Until I select a permanent tombstone, the grave is adorned with only a simple marker. Even so, it’s a lovely spot: peacefully quiet, shaded by a dogwood tree, and close to other people we knew. I’ve developed a habit of strolling through the cemetery after church, and it has become a comforting ritual.
On one such evening, I saw from a distance bare earth where I estimated Neil’s grave should be. Hoping it was just the summer sun playing tricks on my eyes, I hurried ahead. Nope, there was the marker, right in the middle of bare, dry earth where last week had been green grass. Continue reading →
