Holy Moly. It Must Be Winter.

My friend Teresa calls Haines "spiritual boot camp," because it can be so challenging to love our neighbors as ourselves, especially after meetings like the one last night, where many angry people, who had been misinformed and riled up all day, apparently -- sandbagged the Parks & Rec committee at the library. (Which is ironic, as fighting at public meetings is our most traditional form of winter recreation. It keeps us warm and elevates heart rates.) They were acting on a rumor that the committee was banning snow machines and ATVs from 25 mile and up the Kicking Horse valley.

Sunday's Thought

 “Being civil isn’t just trying to be respectful toward the people we know. It is also to care about our common life...there’s something that binds human beings together that politics can’t create and it shouldn’t be able to destroy. What we really need to be thinking as people of faith, is how is it that our common life can flourish? Even if it isn’t going to be perfect and it isn’t going to fit all of our convictions, how can we have a flourishing common life together? " ---Theologian Richard Mouw, author of Christian Civility in an Uncivil World.

Gracias and Gratitude

The first morning in San Pancho, Mexico, I walked down to the corner cafe, a one room affair with two French doors open onto the street so that it feels like a covered porch, to buy a cup of coffee. Inside, there is a small counter, behind which a girl of about twenty-five is making coffee and espresso drinks while scraping the batter for lemon pound cake (a house specialty ) off the beaters of a hand mixer. Behind her, a little wall oven bakes banana muffins that fill the whole neighborhood with their sweet scent.

Monday Marching Orders

It was so interesting that the lessons in church yesterday, which are determined years ahead, spoke so clearly about current events, and the proper response to them.

The Old Testament was from Micah-- and ended with: "Act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God."  Psalm 15 offered this advice: to speak "the truth" from your heart, with no "guile", and never "heap contempt upon your neighbor." And finally, there came the Beatitudes, from Mathew's gospel: Blessed are the peacemakers, persecuted, and hungry-- "Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth."

Home, sort of. Juneau is close.

Yes, Mexico was wonderful-- the light, the sand , the warmth, the palms and pink and red and white bougainvillea-- I especially love the little town with its solid colorful buildings, the paint and beams and tiles. Of course the fruit and fresh corn tortillas, and avocados are sublime-- and the limes! (With cold Pacifico beer--) but mostly I like the people, who say "Buenas Dias" and smile at me as I walk down the cobblestones to the beach.

Lucky and Blessed

This morning I woke up to the windy wet in Juneau in my daughter's guest room. I listened to the sounds of the morning household in the dark-- a baby cried and was soothed, a toddler greeted the day with happy riddles that sounded like he was speaking Thai, and then the radio news, the coffee grinding-- and I thought all is right with this little world at least, so I need to still my beating heart.

I get a bit of travel anxiety.


At the church Epiphany party Sunday, the one where traditionally we burn Christmas trees, eat cake with a baby Jesus or a ring hidden in it to determine who hosts the next party (and last one before Lent), and choose stars with attributes to guide us through the next year, I got lucky. 

Sunday's Thought

“Where, after all, do universal human rights begin? In small places, close to home - so close and so small that they cannot be seen on any maps of the world. Yet they are the world of the individual person; the neighborhood he lives in; the school or college he attends; the factory, farm, or office where he works. Such are the places where every man, woman, and child seeks equal justice, equal opportunity, equal dignity without discrimination. Unless these rights have meaning there, they have little meaning anywhere.

Reading Weather

Wind chills to 25 below, singing "Earth as hard as iron, water like a stone"-- navigating paths, driveways, and streets "brushed with brooms of steel" with cleats on my boots,-- and the darkness! It's so dark after Christmas is taken down. This is the  perfect reading weather.



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