Sunday, March 26, 2017

Welcome, Spring!

March 26, 2017

Dear Christa—

The rain has dissipated and I’ve cracked some windows to get some air exchange and outside humidity into this sick house. It seems we’ve had one cold after another since the New Year. But, this morning the birds are singing and the forsythia across the street is blooming in its bright yellow profusion. Spring is surely come, or at least on the way.

Some people think of new beginnings at the New Year, but for me it’s always spring that perks me up and helps me to anticipate the work of summer. Maybe it’s the literary symbolism of rebirth and new life, but it’s probably just the warmer weather and the anticipation of summer when I don’t work—at school that is.

Whatever it is, it’s an uplifting morning with freshness in the air and the songs of the little birds in the back yard, enjoying Jay’s feeders.

It’s a good day to look at the clouds breaking apart, revealing the Colorado blue sky behind them. It’s a good day to think about the future—spending time with our children and grandkids, wondering where we’ll go, pondering on our amazing world that God holds together and expecting He’ll work great things this year.

It’s a good morning to worship with our friends at church and hear Mark’s sermon—to see you in the worship team across the auditorium. And, hopefully, when I get home, Jay will feel better.

And—it looks like I better quit pondering the future and go get ready.

Happy Sunday! —this last one in March.

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything

Friday, March 24, 2017

Spring Snow

Dear Christa—

All of March has been hot, and just when I was thinking of putting away the quilts on the bed, Colorado winter circled back around just in time for spring break.

Life has a way of moving between warm and comfortable, and cold and nasty—or cold and scary. I love the warm—not hot, just warm. I love when life is going smoothly, but seriously—it’s the winter that presses us into God, for comfort, for direction, for perseverance. Trouble and fear have purpose, so they always swing back around, placing our focus squarely where it needs to be.

Snow is predicted all week long, but I know that Colorado spring snows are heavy with water—to quill summer fires and make my tulips grow. So, as my students head for the peaks, skiing and boarding, I plan to curl up with a book, practice French, and leave the quilts right where they are.

—the parishioner who doesn’t do anything