Category: Uncategorized

GIFT OF THE VISIT

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, “Dwelling in Presence,” October 31, 2023

My journal was calling out to me in the dark, what used to be the middle of the night has become the beginning of my day. How many years have I wasted these precious, silent hours asleep? Here I sit under the window at 3:30 a.m., fully awake and fully aware of my breath flowing and my heart beating. I am alive. A car speeds by and breaks the quiet…but it quickly returns and I am thankfully alone with my thoughts again.

Today is Halloween, but yesterday was one of visitors and treats for me. It began grey and raining. I even asked Joel if I could put off some errands until the next day so I could stay in my pajamas. It just felt like that kind of day! But a happy text channged all that when friends Katelyn and Isaac said they were coming to town, could they stop by? Henry was coming to visit! The last time we saw him he was just a few weeks old. Now, about three months, he was going to be a very different baby! For him, I would get dressed.

Sitting with the family and Joel in our small living toom, I became aware of two things. First, the brilliant sheen of new parenthood had burnished into a deeper glow. Joel thought Isaac and Katelyn looked tired. Perhaps. I just saw two people deeply in love with their baby whose lives had been totally transformed by him. Breathless excitement had become a strong and deeper commitment to it all. Upon laying out all the baby paraphenalia and changing him in the middle of the floor, Katelyn commented “We barge in and take over, change everything!” Well, Katelyn, that is what has happened to you and Isaac, isn’t it? Henry just barged into your lives and nothing has been the same since. But what a precious interruption! Even if a bit demanding. I hope you never stop barging in on us to share him.

The second thing I realized is that there is no denying that I am aging. In the past, if anyone put a baby in my arms, I would hold onto that little one until someone pried him from my arms! I would list cradling a baby as one of the top joys of life. But yesterday, I had to hand him over to Joel! Henry was getting heavy! I couldn’t believe it. Now Joel, at first reticent, clearly enjoyed this. And, I must admit, there is something about seeing a baby in this man’s arms that makes me melt. But I have to finally admidt I am too old to raise babies anymore. I will still hold them, however, until my arms give out!

Beautiful Henry was only the first of two wondrous visitors yesterday. A couple of hours later, Joel called me to the hermitage window and I saw two large wings lifting off the lawn and landing in a border tree. The barred owl had granted us a visit. I immediately felt that existential tug – between running to get my camera to save the moment and risking her departure, or just communing with this remarkable bird, feeling the presence of my mother all the while. Joel solved my dilemma by bringing me my phone, but dusk was falling and it was hard to get a clear picture.

What was clear was the presence of the holy, for it brought me the sense of connection with the dead, the living, all of creation in all of its phases. My mother, baby Henry, his parents, Joel, me, and the owl. That which is holy bonds us all together, for the God of love does not forget any of us children, at whatever age, in whatever phase, in this life or the next. Whether we have the sheen of newness or the burnished glow of experience.

So on this Halloween, I am thankful for yesterday’s visitors. Perhaps today, I will become one, carrying the same gifts of love.

A SPLIT SCREEN

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, Dwelling in Presence, October 29, 2023

Dwelling in presence. It has been a while since I began a post in the way first intended. Right where I am, paying attention to this exact moment, feeling the cool morning air pouring through the window onto my right shoulder, hearing absolute silence outside, a rare occurrence, seeing the wax drip down one side of my autumn candle creating new shapes. It is a peaceful morning, at least on this side of the room, as I sit in my newly crafted window seat under the window to the garden, the woods, the quiet.

This room, which I am soon to call my hermitage, is right now a perfect representation of me. Split in two. One side, a gracious invitation to prayer, study, and writing; three pens and cup of coffee on the window sill, a candle burning in the way of my heart, with a glow that draws me inward. There is a warm blanket on my lap sent by my brother while I was recovering and a colorful quilt made by my sister-in-law and friend, Lisa. The shelves are still mostly empty, suggesting treasures to come. This side of the room is made for something new – new growth, new discovery, new dreams.

If I turn to the left, it is a different story. Basically I see piles of the past. Boxes of books, papers, sermons, who knows what, piled up in a haphazard mess. The wall in front of me speaks of it clearly, the side closest to the bookshelves are painted “Azurite blue,” a rich, calming color. Halfway across the wall the paint job stops, and the rest is a shade called “Bagel”. Yes, I picked out the color years ago. I don’t know why. I have hated it ever since it hit the walls! It is ready to be covered up and put out of its misery, just like the mountains of dust covered boxes are ready to be gone!

Why has it taken so long? Perhaps I fear not knowing what to do, who to be, when the past is let go or integrated into the present. At this point, I can still claim to be newly retired, a work definitely in progress. Like my hermitage. What I need to remember is that a lot of hard work and effort is represented in that pile of stuff, a lot of my heart is in there. I should not be afraid of facing and bringing it to some kind of present order.

To be honest, I can feel the next stage of my life calling. It is time to clear the path. And that blue has so much more hope in it than the stale bagel.

LIFE REVIEW ROAD TRIP ENDS

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, “Dwelling in Presence,” October 23, 2023

Before we leave tiny Haskins, Ohio, on this road trip life review something more must be said. I have lived in big cities much of my life, New York, Boston, Chicago, to name a few, but no place has had the powerful inpact in the short two years we lived there as that town. Two major events happened there. First, both Joel and I joined the small community church, a Federated American Baptist / United Church of Christ congregation. Both of us chose to enter the UCC denomination known for its strong stances on justice and inclusion and thanks to the many UCC clergy in Wisconsin who invited me to “come on over.” And it didn’t hurt that that denomination does not have any bishops!

That little church got to work doing its healing magic on us, inviting us to be fully a part of its faith life. By the end of those years, with the guidance of their wonderful pastor, the Rev. Dr. Mary Wood, they supported and encouraged my going on to seminary, which I did. A few years later, we returned and on September 17, 2000, I was ordained amidst these loving people and set on a new path. Gifted with the blessing of a quilt with squares for each member of the church, we were sent on to my first call as pastor. I will always be grateful to Haskins Federated Church for the lesson of how strongly the Spirit can work through a smal church. They healed and changed our lives.

My first call was actually our next stop on the road trip – Osseo, Wisconsin. I can always tell by the relaxation of Joel’s body when we cross the border into Wisconsin. It means we have gotten through the Chicago traffic unscathed and that he is truly in home territory. His family and most of his close friends live there as does a good part of his memory cache. It was in the area of Osseo, western part of the state, that I learned to love the colors and the textures of farmland through the seasons. Making pastoral calls would take me past bales of hay, herds of cows, and Amish farms. The land is not as flat as in Ohio and the sun shining on the hills often fell on deer playing at the edge of the fields. The land enchanted me.

I am grateful that Joel would make sure our first stop would be at our friend Julie’s for an extended stay. Here I would have my heart filled and my energy gathered to keep up with the hectic schedule Joel had planned for the last week. One of the last times we were here, we helped to plant Julie’s husband Brad’s ashes under the tree he had planted just for that purpose. It adds the final blessing to what is already holy ground. It was there that a deep friendship grew and where I first dared to truly mourn my mother, aided by the evening calls of the barred owl and the gentle presence of my dear friend. Here is where circles of women, friends, and family gather and are nourished in body and spirit. I still daydream occasionally about building a cabin on that land, but the way has never been clear.

I realized on this trip that once a work place, Wisconsin, has for me become a land of friends. We were lifted and fed by so many from the UCC church Joel and I served in Osseo, feeling closer to them than we did in 2004 when we left. Perhaps freedom from the role of “pastor” enables that closeness to further develop. Next we went to Steven’s Point, home to Joel’s brother Scott and his wife Lisa. Not only was I floored by Lisa’s beautiful quilts, but moved by the friendship that continues to develop between us. Then on to Joel’s cousin Sarah’s for a few nights, another friend within the family. A strong voice for justice, Sarah and Joel are more like brother and sister than cousins and take great interest in each other’s work and art. From here we got to have a pizza dinner with some of Joel’s childhood friends and singing buddies in Oshkosh.

Then on to Madison, another one of my city home bases. I’ve already writtten in a past post of the traumatic events encountered there, but now it is simply full of the peoplel who loved us through them. We enjoyed a Japanese meal with Marian and Greg, who stood up for us at our wedding. David and Alison took us in and fed us good Indian food ad good memories. Elsa and Margi arranged a reunion of friends over a Friday Fish Fry where Joel was finally able to have his most desired lake perch! I hadn’t seen some of these people for over 25 years, but the love and joy exchanged at the gathering was palpable. Sadly the rain kept us from a walk in the autumn hued Arboretum, but we closed down the Botanical Gardens instead. We enjoyed an anniversary lunch at a Cheesecake Factory (yummm) provided by Father Ken, beloved pastor, who went through a lot with us at St. Paul’s. Thank heavens our friendship remained unscathed.

Leaving Madison to begin our journey home, I was exhausted but my heart was full. Wisconsin is overflowing with friends! Good food! Stunning landscape! Grateful for a final evening with my sister Sue and family in upstate New York, my geographical life review comes to an end. The only question – where to from here?

THE RIDE (AND LIFE) CONTINUES

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, “Dwelling in Presence,” October 22, 2023

As I take my place in my window seat nook at 4 a.m., I hear one loud and haunting call through the open window. I don’t know if it is an owl or a coyote. I know we have both in the woods, but this one, and only one, sounded different. Perhaps it is a great horned instead of our usual barred owl. In any case, I used it instead of my usual meditation bell to start my silent practice. I began in silent wonder.

Besides the call, there is a steady sound of light rain this morning. A sweet blessing to begin the day. It brings me back to those scenes of healing that met me on the way out of anesthesia, brooks, streams, waves, flowing water on the hospital room television. The producers need not have added the music, the water sounds were more than adequate. Even now they bring me life. (Well, just heard the call again – I would guess it is a great horned owl. Great grey? It is loud and musical.)

I left off the last post recounting the trip Joel and I took to his home state of Wisconsin with the surprising realizatiton that my first home state of New York was still in my blood, wooing me as we drove. After bypassing Buffalo, we headed south through wine country, western New York, northeastern Pennsylivania, getting glimpses of Lake Erie. It was lovely, grape vines lined up for miles, but it did not have the same kind of tug on my heart. We drove through Cleveland, headquarters of our United Church of Christ national church and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. We did not stop until we reached Maumee, Ohio, south of Toledo where I taught a few years at Mercy College.

Northwest Ohio was a healing place for me. We went there after an amazing and somewhat traumatic time in Madison, Wisconsin. In the early to mid-nineties, I worked at St. Paul’s, the University Catholic Center, as the “Woman Chaplain.” This position gave me the opportunity to preach the Word and to co-preside worship servics as well as do programming for the students. As a Roman Catholic woman, I didn’ t think there was any other posititon in the country quite like it. I couldn’t believe it when I was getting calls from public media to ask what I though about the pope’s latest statement, usually on women in the church. I knew I was in a rare situation. It was a challenging job I loved, alongside a staff of priests and other lay people who I loved.

I had to leave there after six years because a new bishop was appointed to Madison who did not appreciate what St. Paul’s was doing there. I and the priest pastor were put in an untenable posititon which resulted in my beginning a panic disorder. But this is a story that needs to be told another time for it might take volumes.

In any case, Joel and I moved to Haskins, Ohio, a farm town with a population of 500, south of Toledo where I taught. I loved it. The sky was big and wide enough for me to breathe in while Madision seemed to close in on me. Although it wasn’t the best place for Joel. An ordained minister, he too was suffering a painful break with the United Methodist Church that treated him as poorly as the Madison bishop treated me, and it was hard for him to know where he belonged. My teaching religious studies and ethics to primarily nursing students at the college helped me to find new purpose.

When we drove through the Haskins area, the sky still enabled me to breathe deeply. All that was left was our drive through Chicago before we reached the state and our beloved people in Wisconsin. This is taking longer than I thought, but since I am sixty-seven, a geographical life-review might be expeced to take time. As does a drive from the coast of Maine to Wisconsin…

A NEW SPACE AND STAGE

Rev. Kate Winters, Ph.D., Dwelling in Presence, October 18, 2023

It’s been nearly a month since my last post. Joel and I just returned from driving out to Wisconsin to see family and friends and to celebrate our wedding anniversary. It was a good trip, lovely autumn colors both ways. The hours of driving helped us debrief from the hectic schedule we kept while there. As you may have surmised from this blog, Joel is as extraverted as I am introverted. The more visits the merrier! Luckily I love these people and so I survived even though I am a bit worn out.

How good it is to be home! This morning I broke in the new window seat that Joel built for me in the weeks before we left. I did not know he had these skills, and it is beautiful. My view out the window includes the cave shaped opening into the woods that speaks to me of secrets to be discovered! Mysteries to be revealed. Something tells me that my soul is going to be deepened in this place as I am surrounded by the love that built this little retreat space for me and the wonders of the earth outside. I sit here feeling blessed.

I can tell that I am in a new stage in life. The drive out was different than it ever was before. My dear friend Julie suggested that it was because I wasn’t preoccupied with work or the church. My mind was free and open to different thoughts and moods. The stops and scenery felt a bit like a life review.

Our first stop was at my niece Samantha’s and then my sister Sue’s in Delmar, New York. Sam was having an amazing Oktoberfest party. The time there was a bit like having a view of the road-not-taken with her daughters and other grandnieces there. The next day we attended one of my grandniece’s softball games. I could see the beauty of my siblings’ lives with children and grandchildren, highs and lows, lots of sports, overflowing with energy and love. I don’t expect their lives are easy, but it is clear that it is very rich. It felt good to be included with them. Not having had children, first by choice, then by chance, this will always be a defining aspect of my life. Just as I write this, my sister Susan sent a message about her school district being on lockdown because of a bomb threat. Amazing. Parenting these days is an act of courage as well as the most generous love. I pray that my love gets used up in other ways in this world.

After leaving Delmar, we drove through the Mohawk Valley in upstate New York. I had for the first time a visceral sense of being at home, as if I belonged there. I can’t explain it. I spent my first twelve years in New York city, only a small part of it upstate with my father’s parents and his brother’s family. We spent a week or two in the Adirondacks most summers. There was also my mother’s parents’ country place in which we spent the rest of my childhood summers in Putnam Valley. Those were idyllic times for a girl from Brooklyn. But I never had the landscape speak to me like this before, directly to my body. It felt a bit like falling in love. I wonder if it was the flowing waters of the Mohawk River calling to me, or if the rolling hills were bringing me into a more intense relationship with the earth.

Yes. I think this window seat is going to be a fertile plae for exploring life’s mysteries and surprises. More later…

ARRIVAL OF A NEW SEASON

Kate Winters, “Dwelling in Presence,” September 22, 2023

On the cusp of a new season, I open a new journal and begin to write. Why is it so hard to lay ink down on this page? It feels like having a chance for a new beginning and not wanting to mess it up. A new journal, a new season, a new stage of my life. Fall begins tomorrow. I have no doubt that it is ushering me into the autumn of my life.

Perhaps I have been here for a while now, but something has changed. I feel a new sense of acceptance. Certainly, I am no longer young, no hint of the eager star performer I was as a child. I have left behind the promising youthful scholar I was in graduate school. I only have fond memories of the gently radical Catholic minister and preacher I was in my late thirties and early forties called the “Woman Chaplain” at the University of Wisconsin Catholic Center. But I no longer have her stamina or the need to reform the entire Roman Catholic Church.

I continue to embrace my ordination in the United Church of Christ, but after twenty-three more years of pastoring local churches, I have retired from that role. I don’t think it is everything that I am any more. My gaze has simulteously become more inward and more cosmic in scope.

I am definitely moving into a new phase, with new priorities and more subtle energies. What I do know is that I will take all that I love into this new season. My incredible partner Joel, who continues to make every step of our journey together more joyous. A continuing desire to teach and to learn. A yearning for God which has always been the deepest thing about me, and the most honest. As I look up, a spectacular half moon surrounded by a soft mist is shining down on me. The journey into autumn is nothing without the holy mystery of it all. I am blessed.

Heart Sense

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, “Dwelling in Presence,” September 13, 2023

I haven’t written in a while. It is hard to know how to begin this morning. Anything I say feels trite and unfeeling after these weeks of suffering that sisters and brothers around the world have been through. The ongoing loss of the devastated Maui, total destruction of towns and families in Morocco, violent genocide in Sudan, and thousands of human beings swept out into the Mediterranean Sea in Libya, what horror! I haven’t even mentioned the war in Ukraine and the fierce heat cooking the land and its inhabitants in much of the world. I won’t go into the politics of our nation, both embarassing and infuriating, deflecting attention and draining energy from all the real problems that we face. Or choose not to face.

In conversation at cardiac rehab this week, I was amazed by the number of people who “don’t watch or read the news anymore.” They could rattle off all the football scores from the weekend, but had no idea about the scores of people who died in Libya or Marrakesh. How easy it is for us humans to live lives of distraction, planning our days and nights by what we don’t want to see. Or know. I do not think that this really makes our lives any easier. I know my anxiety would rise not knowing what was going on. For I believe there is a level of awareness in us that links us to all being on this earth. We can either develop this awareness or try to shut it off. The more we develop it, the more human we become. The more we distract ourselves from it, the more we cut ourselves off from growing in care and understanding. Essential human traits.

Why should we care? Because this ability helps to develop our heart sense, which is something we have sadly left undeveloped in our world today. We have educated our minds, but have devalued the knowledge that is key to our hearts, which begins with our innate sense of interconnection. This is an important aspect of the wisdom so desperately needed to address the suffering and the destruction of our earth.

Nothing changes if people with well-nurtured and developed heart sense do not come together to employ this gift. But when they/we do, hope is born. Energy returns. Commitments are made. Change is possible. So my question this morning is: Do I/you live primarily a life of distraction or a life of heart sense?

When you begin to hear the cries of the Libyan people, or to feel the despair of the Moroccans, or suffer the scars of the earth in your own body, do not suffer these on your own. Find others who honor the wisdom of their hearts and begin to grow hope for all being on earth.

TRAFFIC ON THE DECK

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, “Dwelling in Presence,” August 30, 2023

As the chickadee stares at me from the edge of the birdbath for longer than I thought she would, I am reminded that I have not once tried to feed her this summer out of my hand. Or from the hat on top of my head. Is she wondering if I’ve given up on her? “No, little one,” I say. “I have just been sulking on the sofa.” She flies into the lilac bush and begins to sing her usual song. “I hear you. I never thought you would miss me out on this deck. But maybe you do.” And in this moment, I fall in love all over again. She’s been my favorite since my beloved grandfather taught me how to feed sunflower seeds to the chickadees many years ago from the deck in Connecticut.

Oh, who’s here now? Whoever it is, perhaps the song sparrow, there are wings splashing water all over. He leaves and two goldfinches take his place, one a dull green and the other neon yellow. By the time I look up again from my journal, they are replaced by two hummingbirds on the feeder hung over the bath. It feels like rush hour on the back deck! Perhaps it is like this at 5 p.m. every day in this spot. Or, could it be that they all want me to know that I’ve been missed? I can feel my gratitude flow out from me. Can they feel it as it glances their feathers and moves out into the trees?

A thought strikes me as the chatter of the goldfinches rises…oh wait…the chickadee is back and has joined one of the hummingbirds on the feeder. Yes, she is sipping the sugar water. Her usual chickadee-dee-dee-dee call has gentled, as if she does not want to disturb the hummer. I have not heard this particular call from this particular bird before. It’s actually melodic. More soothing. Perhaps it is her peace offering for getting a share at the hummingbird’s table.

Okay, back to the striking thought. I have spent many an hour over the years on this backyard deck looking for a connection with the wildlife, especially the birds. But could it be that what I yearn for, a deep relationship even unity with them, is already there? Are we not already a part of one another through living on this miraculous earth? We are made of the same stuff. We have the same source. We need the same things. I was warned over time not to “anthropomorphize” the creatures, not to assume they think or feel like I do. However, is it possible that in our fear of anthropmorphizing, we have built a deep chasm between them and ourselves. It may be that we do share some of the same yearnings, to feel the profound connections among and between one another.

These beautiful and wild creatures approach me as I approach them, with caution and care. We all want to know that we are safe and secure with one another. After all, we have all been created by the same love.

COMING TO TERMS

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, “Dwelling in Presence,” August 23, 2023

It is one of those perfect Maine summer days, low 70’s, crisp air, brilliant blue sky, and two competitive hummingbirds chattering next to me at the feeder. Make that three. A little male just chased the two females into the tree. I thought that season was over!

This is the first day since last year that I am writing in my screen tent on the deck. I don’t really know what took me so long. Although our prairie has been cut down to grass with hay on the side, I am surrounded by pink, purple, and white phlox, hundreds of black-eyed susans, bright orange nasturtium, and can hear our solar-powered fountain gently splashing in the bird bath. Certainly a more pastoral scene than my corner of the couch offered.

Now that I think about it, since retirement I may have been avoiding the spaces I equated with doing my work. I have written many a sermon/message in this tent. The most joyful part of my work hands-down. I also did a lot of liturgy planning and hymn writing at my desk in front of the wide living room window. It always gave me inspiration, like the osprey spreading its wings and the dragon fly lifted on the breeze. The trees in every season spoke to a different phase of the year and the heart. The empty branches rising in prayer and spring leaf buds hinting at rebirth. The dawn sky of Advent wearing the blue of hope and promise. But lately, I have been using the desk only for e-mail or word processing on the computer, never upon which to write. Any creative activity since January was done in one corner of the sofa. I did most of my grieving and my healing there under an afghan made for me by a dear friend. It was my refuge.

So what brings me outside today? What has changed? Perhaps I am moving from denial of what I have lost in the last seven months to acceptance. Joel and I participated in the installation of a colleague as pastor of another church on Sunday. It was strange putting on our clergy robes and stoles once again. But it was a reminder that even though we have let go the position of pastor at First Church, we are still ordained as pastor/teacher in the wider United Church of Christ. We are still called to serve the church and the world. It will simply have to take another form and be in a new place. Isn’t this the pattern of growth? To let go of one particular thing to open our arms to wider experience?

At the beginning of the installation service, the pianist played “Here I Am, Lord.” This was sung at my ordination service in Ohio. I was immediately transported back to that day in Septamber of 2000. It seemed that only yesterday I was taking the vows of ordination and feeling the weight of the hands upon my head as the Spirit was called to fill me and guide me on my way. A part of me was thinking I wish I could do it all over again. On the other hand, a deeper part knows that I am not the same woman anymore, except that I am still burning with a desire to know, love, and serve God in whatever form she manifests herself to me.

Finally, just before I set myself up to write in my tent, I was flipping through TV channels after the news. Sunddenly, there was Josh Fitterling, the new designated interim pastor at The First Church, leading worship on the local access channel. My first impulse was to flip on by, not wanting to deal with my feelings. But then, I just stopped and watched. I noted that he was preaching from the lectern, as I used to do, and not the raised pulpit. And yes, he belonged there. It was his turn to find himself at the heart of that good community. It was his turn to speak. To lead prayer. To love and be loved by the people. It is my turn to sit here on my deck in the summer breeze, listening to the racket of the ravens above me, the zooming by of the hummingbirds, and the whisper deep down in my soul – “Be still. Get ready to open your arms and your heart ever wider.” And I answer, “Yes.”

HENRY

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters, “Dwelling in Presence,” August 12, 2023

I rose to an unusual sky this morning. Pale peach clouds stretched horizontally over the southern horizon. At one point in the east, three separate strands seemed to break out of order to jump straight up, shining with the sun that had not fully risen. They seemed to be trying to touch the tiny sliver of a moon that was hanging above them. Why? Why this little spurt of exuberance from clouds in the sky? I’d never seen anything like it. Perhaps I would have to take that meteorologist training I sometimes wish I had to better undertand the skies that so often transfix my attention. But no, with time to observe and wonder, I think I will be satisfied with this extraordinary skyscape as gift.

I watched until the clouds merged with the baby blue sky and the moon was barely visible. Then my eyes fell on our three year old hydrangea bush in full flourish. It is called a “Watermelon” hydrangea, the blossom beginning as creamy white, turning from stem up into a pale pink. Soon it will take on its full color – a deep pinkish rose – resembling the color of a ripe watermelon. How does this happen? Do I need a course in horticulture? I guess some things are just meant to be loved and enjoyed if not understood. Like the skies, they are to be gratefully received as gift.

Yesterday, Joel and I received the most precious of gifts. Our friends, Katelyn and Isaac, brought their newborn son, Henry, over to the house to meet us. It sounded like all three of them had quite an adventure in his being born, and so I was especially amazed when the first thing Katelyn did was put Henry right in my arms, with none of the anxiety and hesitancy that I have experienced with many newborn moms being coaxed into letting others hold their little ones. With Henry, I didn’t even have to ask!

Two things bring me nearly to tears as I think about them this morning. First, of course, was this tiny little life I cradled close to me for the first time. How beautifully and intricately he was created. I do not often express myself in Bible quotes, but this brought me right to my favorite Psalm 139, which cries “For you created my inmost being, you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made…” There is absolutely nothing, nothing like holding a newborn baby, this breathing, wiggly little miracle of life. In that moment, it feels as if the world is just as it should be and you are just as you should be. Suddenly filled with a brand new love that immediately ignites not only a concern for the baby’s wellbeing, but for the wellbeing of the world that he will grow up in. As I cradled his tiny head in my hand, I was both blessed and awed.

Secondly, I was also blessed and awed by the tremendous trust and generosity of his parents, Isaac and Katelyn. The love that flows through their marriage and shows on their faces, is shared readily with their community. And their community is wide – family, friends, town, work places, church, school where Isaac teaches, all the places where they sing! It reaches from Maine to Texas and beyond! They offer themselves and their gifts with such grace and ease. And now, they are sharing their most precious gift, Henry. I am sure that Henry is already thriving in this lifegiving environment he was born into – being showered with all that trust, love, wonder and joy. That is one fortunate little man! I feel fortunate to be able to watch all of them grow and stretch together – like the three strands of exuberant clouds reaching for the moon, a rare and beautiful sight.