The Barefoot Man

By Bruce Smith

At our clinic in Panama, I was teaching a series of patients about teeth brushing when the next client, an old, barefoot man, arrived. We’d been told some people from indigenous mountain tribes might come to the clinic and that they would only speak their native language. It was soon apparent that he was one of them. He was old and bent with a weathered face and, I soon noticed, toughed bare feet. He had probably walked 6-8 miles through the jungle on those bare feet to visit the clinic. It was not unlikely that he’d camped overnight to be early in line to learn what we could do for him. Most likely, based on our experiences that week, it would be dealing with the chronic aches and pains due to years of strenuous work. I presented him with a toothbrush and toothpaste without attempting my “Spanish” lesson on brushing. We smiled at each other. If seemed that, despite our quite varied experiences, we’d both lived lives that made smiling easy.

Our encounter was brief and non-verbal. But the connection has stayed with me. We were two men from radically different worlds. I’d enjoyed the advantages of the advanced western world. He had lived a physically difficult life but, doubtlessly, had abilities and an awareness of nature that I could hardly imagine. I felt a deep respect for his experience and native wisdom. Despite the differences we shared some things: caring for our families and our communities, the need to provide for them, and the physical challenges of aging bodies. Somehow, we’d been brought together for this encounter at a medical clinic in Guabol, Panama.

As I’ve thought about him, the insight that’s emerged is that the encounter was a small taste of what we share with diverse people all over the world. As different as we were, we shared a common humanity. And we, as part of His creation, were loved by the same God. Considering the immense variations of cultures, languages, physical characteristics, and experiences we can be amazed by that realization. In the face of all such differences, God is there for each of us in all our awesome diversity. While we may seek to impose limitations and focus on ourselves and our culture; others with their ways and cultures are equally part of God’s vast and immensely varied Kin(g)dom. Distance, cultural differences, language barriers and biases drop away when we realize the vastness of God’s love that encompasses a barefoot Panamanian from the mountains and a Bozemanite from America. My little time with him gave me a new insight into the truth that before God we are all the same, everywhere and in all time.

Busy

By Wendy Morical

(written while sitting on my new yoga ball chair from the Rummage Sale. Many thanks to the person that donated it!)

Can you picture the old cinematic trope that indicates the passage of time with pages flying off the calendar? Some days, this feels like my reality – and possibly yours, too? Many people I have spoken to lately echo a common theme: we are busy. Busy and tired.

Everyone’s life demands tug at them in different ways. For some, it’s their all-consuming job surrounded by the elements of having and keeping “real life” going. For others, it may be child or elder care, career or housing transition. Life events – births, deaths, illnesses – may have arisen, requiring new expenditures of one’s scarce time. We attend meetings and activities we genuinely wanted to add to our calendar, and we step up to volunteer for other functions about which we have sincere interest… but we’re tired.

I have been thinking about this a great deal lately, since it’s come up in so many conversations with Pilgrim friends. We try to track down the source of this reality, looking for somewhere to lay blame for feeling set upon by the lives we are living so fully. A common conversational theme is to compare the pace of life as it was in an earlier day to our shared experience in 2024. I’ve heard myself engage in this fruitless exchange so often that I have determined it is time to take a more proactive stance.

My first step is to work on changing perspective. Dan Wise and I talked the other day about the joy of connecting with students on campus and how genuinely grateful we both are for the opportunity we’ve had to touch lives through the application of our talents. What a glorious privilege. I am grateful for the work I am still capable of doing and the way it positively impacts young people. How could those responsibilities be a drain or an inconvenience?

Pilgrim asks much of its volunteers, but isn’t it wonderful to play a role in Pilgrim’s good work? Our church’s warm welcome, community outreach, fellowship, and embodiment of God’s message of love wouldn’t be as impactful without the time we give. Thank God I can be a small part of Pilgrim’s work.

Stressful, time-consuming wedding plans? I thank God daily for my beautiful daughter and the joy that she has found. Thinking otherwise is an affront to the Creator who gave her life.

Even pain, illness, and loss give us the opportunity to draw closer to one another, to find reserves of love and support within ourselves to offer those in pain. It is the work of God to bring us together in compassionate care.

Nothing on our calendars lacks God’s presence. Our tremendous responsibility is to accept these daily gifts with gratitude for what they call forth within ourselves. Approaching each day with a cultivated thankfulness has the potential to shift “I have to…” to “I get to…”

Let’s redouble our efforts to live in gratitude. I thank God for my Pilgrim friends who listen, support, and question. Give thanks!

Ponderings: A Tourist, A Traveler, or a Pilgrim?

By Susan Wordal

One of my sorority sisters, who is also a retired government lawyer (so you know I love her), has recently been on a trip to the land of the Pyramids. It’s one of those bucket list things. And, as is her habit, she takes many photos and shares with those of us who are her friends on FB. We get to travel vicariously, and she generally throws in some historical detail and some Catholic perspective for those of us who are not necessarily of that particular persuasion (either an historian or Catholic). It provides some context for what she sees, but by no means requires us to subscribe or conform to any particular perspective or religious affiliation in order to appreciate the sights and sounds and textures of her trip. And she does share all those as best she can through her writing and her photos.

One of her last posts about the trip was the “safe arrival home” post. And in it she references a travel writer named Rick Steves, who was quoted by their main tour guide at the beginning of her trip. It seems Steves had indicated there is a difference between being a tourist and being a traveler. But the tour guide went farther and suggested a 3rd category: pilgrim. (A pilgrim in the land of Egypt, what a novel concept!) Here’s the essence of that comment, which I took from my Sister’s post:

¨ Tourists take a trip and look at the places. They enjoy the experience, learn a few things but return home unchanged and unmoved.

¨ Travelers engage with the places and cultures they visit. They expand their worldview and make connections.

¨ Pilgrims view travel as transformative and challenging. They see new adventures and places as a way to become fully human.

The Council here at Pilgrim Congregational UCC participated in a retreat on Saturday where we worked through visioning comments and other comments from members of the congregation as a way to move forward with creating some goals for Pilgrim in this new era of the church. The conversations were insightful and dynamic. We worked hard, we joked with each other, and we found insights and camaraderie in the work we are doing in this place.

Maybe you can see why my Sister’s comment about Pilgrims as a category of explorer, if you will, resonated with me. It encapsulated what I think Pilgrim has to offer people who are on or have joined us on this journey. Some will be tourists – here for a short time, enjoying the experience before they move on to another experience. We love them and wish them well and hope they take a little of us with them as they move forward on their journey and will remember us fondly if they look back. Some will be travelers – here to see and experience, to engage with us and make connections for whatever time they are here, and to carry a bit of us with them as they continue with us and without us. We also love them and wish them well, and know they take a little of us with them in their journey, possibly even returning to us from time to time, but certainly looking back and remembering and sharing with others that which they found at Pilgrim.

But those of us who are pilgrims see the experience of Pilgrim (the church) as a place to transform ourselves and challenge ourselves and others, to seek the next adventure together, to experience this place and others as part of the journey. We look to our fellow Pilgrims as our support system, our family outside our nuclear family, our partners in life’s ups and downs. We welcome people into our circle and by so doing, we engage with others and are transformed by those experiences and that exposure to new ideas, or ideas we have never contemplated before, or have contemplated only at a distance. We may stumble along the way. We may speak before thinking, or we may make a genuine statement of caring which is not received as such. And we can recognize that, we can atone for our missteps, and we can change for the better. And for those who feel we have transgressed, there is the power of forgiveness. And in forgiving, we who are called on to forgive, as well as we who seek forgiveness, are also transformed. For we recognize that we are human and while we can and should be like an elephant and never forget, we learn to rebuild from places of sorrow or disappointment, transformed by that power that is forgiveness when it is genuinely earned and genuinely warranted and genuinely given.

So, join us. Experience the adventure in transforming the legacy left to us by our Founders and by our Creator. Honor those who came before and those who come after. Know that we will stumble and make mistakes in our very human and flawed condition. And trust that as we work together, we at Pilgrim are truly pilgrims on a journey of discovery and transformation and even transfiguration. Accept the challenge to love and forgive in equal measure. Be a full participant, not just a tourist or just a traveler, but a true pilgrim. Welcome to our circle.

Spring Fever

By Carolyn Pinet

They're back -

I just looked, saw a tail feather

sticking out of the nest

and thought, "There go the robins,

indefatigable, cockeyed optimists."

They knew that spot by the back door was,

to put it mildly, iffy,

but here they are, another heady spring,

and drunk on hormones - do birds

have hormones? - but,

undaunted by the lessons of the past,

they have built yet another nest,

the female has laid her eggs,

and they await the hatch.

What is it about the Montana spring?

Even the elders among us

feel jaunty and restless

despite dire warnings, troubled times.

Is it that we have learned nothing so

are doomed to repeat our missteps.

or is it that, like the robins,

we are wildly disposed

to start over, flit about,

inhale the redolent blossoms

and to love this world?

(Happy Spring?)

The Summer Day

By Bruce Smith

One of my favorite poets is Mary Oliver. Her poems often convey a sense of the wonder of life, its creatures, and the natural world. Many address deeper issues of God, mortality and our relationship to creation with a reverent but light touch that I’ve found particularly endearing. This week I want to share one that seem whose final lines struck me.

The Summer Day

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

The grasshopper, I mean------

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is easting sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down ----

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes,

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don’t know exactly what prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

Into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

How to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

Which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell, me what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

From Devotions by Mary Oliver

Easter: Roots, Rabbits - Risen

By Carolyn Pinet

I look up "Easter" for the first time

and find "Old English, perhaps Northhumbrian,"

also "Eastre," or Proto German, with the

meaning of "austron," dawn.

meaning of "austron," dawn.

It's about "toward sunrise and shining," I'm thinking.

I have always depended on the sound of the word,

unworried about its roots -

after all, the associations could be accidental

and fortuitous: think about "ease,"

the open vowels, the glide of the "ees" and

the lingering of the final "r."

Now picture the hunts for painted eggs,

birds emerging from cracked shells,

blooming flowers with rabbits hopping about.

It's true we are welcoming spring even after

dark days and loss. The weather lurches

back and forth, just like we do, from Friday to

Sunday: the clouds gather and thicken,

then the sun emerges and the spring light prevails.

Look: in the moist, rich earth,

behold, here are shoots about to birth!

You Too?

By Vince Amlin

The child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary,“...a sword will pierce your own soul too.” - Luke 2:33-35 (NRSV abridged)

Simeon is the most obvious of prophets. Not like, oh Simeon, you’re so brilliant, you’re obviously a prophet! But like, duh, Simeon, it didn’t take a prophet to see that coming!

Telling a new parent that loving this little bundle of joy is also going to destroy them? Telling someone who has just given birth that for every hope she holds, there will also be pain?

She’s figured it out. Jesus is eight days old now. You can already see the sword handle sticking out of her chest. That’s what it means to be a loving parent.

That’s what it means to be a loving anything: friend, child, neighbor. Caring for this other person will be a sign of life, and liberation, and joy. And it will also just about kill you. Every. Single. Day.

That’s the way I’ve read Simeon’s “too” in “a sword will pierce your soul too.” There will be joy and pain as well. You take the good with the bad. #factsoflife

But there is another, less obvious, way. Simeon is, after all, a prophet. Maybe these are God’s words. Maybe that “too” is God’s too. Maybe God is telling Mary, “We are in this together.” And in that moment, God means it more than ever. Because, in Jesus, God finally has a soul to be pierced.

Jesus is eight days old. God already knows: this hurts. Maybe God is telling Mary, telling us, I get it now. I’ve loved like you. See the sword?

Prayer

This hurts! Thank you for knowing.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Vince Amlin is co-pastor of Bethany UCC, Chicago, and co-planter of Gilead Church Chicago, forming now. This reflection was originally posted on the United Church of Christ’s website as a Daily Devotional from the StillSpeaking Writers’ Group: https://www.ucc.org/daily-devotional/ and accessed on March 28, 2024. Used with permission.

Recurring Dreams

By Carolyn Pinet

I was born in Wales,
but my earliest memories
are of an RAF station in Ireland:
at the age of three, I ate
vast amounts of cheese,
pinched coins from my officer father's cadets,
and rode a large rocking-horse.
I had a wandering cat called Smokey,
the first of many furry friends.

Who knows why some memories
stay with you all your life
while others recede?
Who knows if I have embellished
recall with my own vivid touches -
or are these images dreamt?
But, yes, again I am on my black and white horse,
know its galloping rhythm,
as I hold hard to a blazing saddle.

If Ireland remains a waking dream,
let the music of Wales still charm my ears
as I cross a strip of sea.
Let me stir from my magic sleep
to stand in a Welsh garden
with my family after the war.
Forever I'm parked here looking out
to the gleaming, white-capped waves,
and I hear the tooting boats, the
echoing cries of the acrobatic, Welsh-Irish gulls.

Servanthood

By Bruce Smith 

So Jesus got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist.  After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.

The story of Jesus washing the disciples’ feet has always been a favorite of mine.  It says so much about the world-changing implications of Jesus’ teaching.  Jesus, the Master and Messiah, takes on the role of the most menial of servants.  He, at this critical moment in his ministry, girds himself with a towel and performs the lowliest but most comforting of tasks.  The action, while now familiar, was so revolutionary that its implications are still being worked out.  The concept is so alien that Peter, that most lovable and outspoken of apostles, objects.  Yet there can be no doubting the words at the end of the passage, Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. 15 I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you. 16 Very truly I tell you, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. 17 Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.

When I began considering thoughts for this week, I was drawn to it because of both the idea of servanthood and that Peter, the star of our sermon series, is featured.  While Peter doesn’t get it right away, by the end of the story there can be no doubt that it instructs us, as practicing Christians, to act as servants to others.

Might there be another aspect to our assuming the role of servants? When we open ourselves up to become true servants, our master is no longer ourselves.  Living in 21st century America we are conditioned to “get our share”, “to win”, “to look out for number one” and to be independent and to take care of ourselves. To be masters of our fate. If we are to strap on our towels, however, we must give all that up and defer to a different Master. 

We must focus on His wants and direction rather than our own. Our lives need to become “Him” centered rather than self-centered.  We are no longer masters of ourselves and our little worlds but simply servants devoted to One above us. And strangely enough that Master is He who washed dirty feet, met with despicable sinners, healed the rejected and proclaimed good news to the poor.  This is our self-centered world turned upside down. By ceding away ourselves as our master we gain the peace of not having to “make it” according to the world’s standards. 

It’s refreshing to step back from the world’s insistent demands and the media barrage for self-gratification to work simply as servants.  If washing feet is needed, we wash feet.  It’s more likely that we will paint or wash dishes but nonetheless we dedicate ourselves to others.  And the goal is simply to serve our fellow man/woman to illustrate that there is hope in the Good News that we know. Each of us in our own small way becomes engaged in the building of a truly magnificent kingdom.

While it demands a sacrifice of our old selves, the rewards of servanthood are great and the yoke is indeed light.  The One we serve has promised to always be with us.  And, according to one writer, by becoming servants we become the incarnation, the embodiment of Christ in the world. We are able to look beyond our cares and wants to He who provides so much for us.  And we can feel the fulfillment that results from serving!

While I find achieving this servant mindset a daunting challenge in my everyday life, it is with a sense of expectation that I strive for it.  We can even give thanks for the opportunity to act as servants for such a caring and loving God!  And may that experience permeate us and change us. By becoming real servants we become the incarnation, the embodiment of Christ in the world.  What a calling!!

Yet Another St. David's Day

By Carolyn Pinet

Once more
we swing around to March 1:
the snow down here is melting fast,
puddles abound, and
we splash about wondering
where we are all headed and why the poet
insists, "April is the cruelest month.," not March.

One guy in the coffee-house
went out early and skied
in heavy, wet snow,
his whole body hurts but
he says it was worth it.
My own body aches
just thinking about it.
I'm sipping a cappuccino and
reliving the tough climbs up,
the swift sweeps down
and wishing I could turn back time.

Now I'm wondering about the weather in Wales -
is the sea green and iridescent,
or riled up and dangerous?
Are women in tall, black hats
congregated on the piers?
Someone is singing and
the ancient cathedral stones are wet and shining -
yes, all through Wales lilting voices rise,
they join together, and they harmonize.

March 1, 2024

Dydd Gwyl Dewi Hapas/Happy St.David's Day!

Light Sleepers

By Vince Amlin

But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour. - Matthew 24:43–44 (NRSV)

As an infant, our daughter was on oxygen. This meant that each night we had to wrap a tiny sensor around her big toe to monitor her oxygen levels as she slept.

The sensor was attached to the loudest alarm In. The. World.

Fortunately, her saturation levels never fell into a dangerous range. Unfortunately, the machine went off every time she moved her foot.

It’s hard to achieve a deep sleep when you know that any moment you may be woken by an air horn. After several sleepless nights with no real danger, we disconnected the alarm.

It did not improve our sleep.

Instead, with no machine to make sure she was safe, we had to. Waking in turn, again and again, to hover over her crib and listen to her breathe.

I’ve heard from other parents since that, oxygen or no, the result is the same. You never sleep as well after children. Even when they’re grown. You wake at the least sound and wonder if they are safe.

Jesus’ advice in Matthew sounds exhausting. Sleeping with one eye open. Or not at all. Waiting through the night for disaster to strike.

No wonder he was always promising that the end was coming soon. That our sleepless nights wouldn’t last long. The moment was at hand when we could finally trade our anxious vigil for the untroubled rest of beloved children.

Prayer: Come, O Jesus, Come.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Vince Amlin is co-pastor of Bethany UCC, Chicago, and co-planter of Gilead Church Chicago, forming now. This reflection was originally posted on the United Church of Christ’s website as a Daily Devotional from the StillSpeaking Writers’ Group: https://www.ucc.org/daily-devotional/ and accessed on February 7, 2024. Used with permission.

Ponderings: For Someone in My World

By Susan Wordal

I spent my college years in a sorority house. I really never questioned this decision. My Mom, whom I love dearly, had spent her years at Montana State University (before it became University of Montana) in a sorority house after attending an all-female college in the mid-west for a year. It’s where she met many life-long friends and how she met my Dad. All in all, I’d say it was a good choice for her and so, when she urged me to go through RUSH (what they called recruitment back in the day), I trusted she knew what she was doing and what she was urging me to do and so, I went through RUSH.

There I was with many other incoming Freshman and some “upper-class” females going from one house to the next meeting people, learning a little about the various houses on campus, and running into some old friends. In particular, I ran into a whole raft of women I knew from high school and summer stock theater. It was like old-home week. On the first day, as I left the house I would later join, I found myself hugging every person like a gauntlet I had to travel just to leave. [Anyone who knows me knows I’m a rather “hug-y” person.] Then, there was a woman I didn’t know other than from that first meeting. But, we looked at each other and sort of shrugged and kind of thought “what the hey” and hugged each other. It was the last one on my way out the door (and I was the last of that group), but it was the one that rather clinched it for me. What I didn’t know was that after the door was closed, the whole house kind of cheered. They were sure of at least one “Rushee” as we were called then. A week later, I joined Alpha Omicron Pi and never looked back.

Today, I still keep in touch with these wonderful Sisters. Yes, they are sisters in all but birth. We are there for each other. We light a candle when they need it. We say prayers when those are needed. We shed tears when those are called for in a given moment. Some of the tears are tears of joy, others are tears of grief or commiseration. Whatever the moment demands, we answer as best we can from where we are. You don’t mess with a Sister without Karma taking a hand.

One of my Sisters has a habit of posting things she finds on the internet. “For Someone in My World Today” she says. These can be uplifting quotes, reality checks, amazing photos, etc. One never knows, but the thought is there: if you need a little something, here you go.

 So, one of the quotes she put up the other day was:

Just as one candle lights another and can light thousands of other candles, so one heart illuminates another heart and can illuminate thousands of other hearts.

Leo Tolstoy

Russian author, intellectual and social critic

(1828-1910)

 Another was:

There is so much more to this one incredible life than the sum total of our heartbreak.

  Lysa Terkeurst

And everyone can relate to this on occasion. (no idea who said it, but it sounds familiar…

I’m still tired from yesterday’s tired.

Today isn’t looking so good

and I’ve already used up tomorrow’s tired.

 I’m grateful for these bonds of friendship and Sisterhood. I know my Mom was grateful for hers and I saw them work over all the years of growing up and even after. I’m grateful for those quotes and photos “For Someone in My World”. I’m grateful for the fact that we can be inspired to be better by seeing something, whether it’s a quote or a picture or a comic strip, and having that one thing brighten our day, if just for a minute.

 So, if you know someone who is in need of a little inspiration, or a little commiseration, or a little extra joy, don’t hesitate. Send it out into the universe. 

 A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions.

Amelia Earhart

 Who knew?!?!

 BTW:  If you wanna meet up and just scream for a minute…we can do that, and then get food after.

Spring Flamenco

By Carolyn Pinet

I've just realized

                    that this year

                    Ash Wednesday and

                    Valentine's Day,

                    hanging together in suspense,

                    are about to collide.

                    Some of us will wander about

                    with smoke streaked foreheads,

                    others, titillated by Eros

                    and the rash promises of spring,

                    will fall in love -

                    or perhaps a few of us

                    will do both,

                    confused by the rapidly

                    changing climate,

                    the ricocheting seasons.

                    And I have to ask,

                    "Could untended hearts

                    grow ashy and static?"

                    But no, I'm starting to imagine

                    an unprecedented volcanic eruption,

                    an outpouring of Vesuvius

                    with all the gods in a circle,

                    while the whole sky lights up

                    and people everywhere,

                    held in loving embrace,

                    dance and dance. 

Such Great Lengths

By Vicki Kemper

Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in the flame of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. Then Moses said, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight and see why the bush is not burned up.” - Exodus 3:1-3 (NRSV, adapted)

Chances are you know this story: How God called Moses from a burning bush. How God told Moses to take off his shoes because he was standing on holy ground. How Moses resisted God’s call to deliver the ancient Israelites from slavery in Egypt.

Now consider what the story doesn’t say: How long God had been trying to get Moses’ attention.

In the birth of his child, maybe. Through his feelings of guilt and regret. In the satisfaction he felt rescuing a lost lamb. In how alone and lost he felt, despite years with his wife’s family. In the stark beauty of the wilderness.

Note that God didn’t stop trying to get through. Instead, God went to great lengths, finally resorting to setting a bush on fire.

Notice also that Moses hadn’t gone on retreat to listen for a holy word; he was simply going about his normal business.

Take a moment to consider how many blessings you have missed because you didn’t take them seriously. Wonder how many angels you haven’t met because you were too busy to turn aside.

Consider that you, too, are standing on holy ground, and that God has a word for you.

Prayer: To all the ways you continue to reach out to me, open my heart and focus my attention.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Vicki Kemper is the Pastor of First Congregational, UCC, of Amherst, Massachusetts. This reflection was originally posted on the United Church of Christ’s website as a Daily Devotional from the StillSpeaking Writers’ Group: https://www.ucc.org/daily-devotional/ and accessed on January 4, 2024. Used with permission.

Making Connections

By Bruce Smith

He said he was a collegiate ski jumper. Suddenly here was a whole new side to this quiet, helpful fellow church-goer I’d known for years. I’m still adjusting to the revelation. I guess it’s always a little challenge to imagine us septuagenarians as what we were in younger days! That revelatory interchange prompted a couple thoughts to share this week.

The first is the reward of taking the time to really get to know others. This, of course, requires that we really listen and even be willing to share ourselves. With the ski jumper, it was working together and chatting that I learned a bit about the sport and was able to share my amazement and appreciation. Times when we work together and have fun together are great opportunities to do this. I can personally say that during my travel and sales career trying to do this has been a pleasure, enlightening and enriching. I never would have imagined some of the personal stories that others have shared with a little prompting! And I’m happy to say that at Pilgrim our after-church conversations are like none I’ve ever seen in other churches. So many times, coffee hour in other churches consisted of nods, a few nice, appropriate comments without really touching people’s real lives. This is a strength on which I hope we can build to welcome and get to really know newcomers and others with whom we’re not familiar. I promise you’ll discover stories that will make you smile.

The second thought is inspired by a personal revelation years ago as I got to know some of the congregants in our previous church better. It turned out that people who seemed to have it all together and were such good Sunday folks had had their struggles, mistakes, and regrets along the way. The knowledge caused me to relate to them and to church life in a more meaningful way. The goodness of a church setting is that it’s a safe, caring place to share some of our trying experiences. The idea of sharing our challenges brought to mind a sermonette that our host on the Panama mission gave. He focused on the fact that we are all “gimped” in one way or ways. I guess you could use the phrase “flawed” but somehow “gimped” seemed more relatable. As we nodded in agreement, he discussed how as humans we all have made mistakes, been misunderstood, and probably done some things we regret. His point was that despite our “gimpiness,” we are forgiven and have an opportunity for a better life through faith and our fellow believers. Knowing that we are “gimped” also makes it easier and perhaps more compelling to be accepting and willing to help others. So, as we look around the sanctuary, we may find comfort in knowing that others, like us, have their share of “gimpiness” but that we are united in seeking to improve and, most importantly, that we find forgiveness and hope in our faith. And, as we interact, may we remember that we’re not perfect and be willing to accept that others aren’t too.

I’ll close with a quote from I Peter 3:8 “Finally, all of you, have unity of mind, sympathy, brotherly love, a tender heart, and a humble mind.” Here’s to an almost New Year with its possibility of learning and understanding more about each other while showing true brotherly (and sisterly) love.

Weather Turning/Year Turning

By Carolyn Pinet

 This world turns again:
the wind gets up
and the skies darken.

An hour ago, we welcomed the sun,
the stillness before a new day, but
now, abrupt, snow slithers from the maple,

thin twigs splay like a conductor' fingers,
the music we thought we knew
stutters, changes key.

My chimney roars, hollow with meaning,
something, or someone, calls out in the blizzard,
voices are mangled, jangle in our ears.

This day I venture into words.
They blow about, elusive,
fleeing capture.

But when the wind riles up
and all things darken,
I seek what is still and pray for the light.

Paying Attention

By Wendy Morical

Little boy on train: Mama?

His mum: Yes?

Little boy: I never see you brush your hair.

His mum: I do a lot of things you don’t see.

(Pause)

Little boy: Like flying?

This precious exchange is an overheard snippet of conversation jotted down by Miranda Keeling, shared initially via her Instagram (@MirandaKeeling) but included in her small book, The Year I Stopped to Notice. This book compiles some of Miranda Keeling’s “small moments” – details she spots that make ordinary life seem extraordinary to her. She describes herself as “captivated by the ordinary” and has made a name sharing small, small observations via Instagram, podcast, and her book. They aren’t striking, life-changing events, but simply normal moments of people going about their people-ness that have captured Keeling’s attention.

Here's another example: “A lady pretends she isn't reading the book of a man beside her on the bus, who pretends he isn't holding it so it's easier for her to do so.”

We find what we look for. The practice of looking for small moments of joy and delight, as Keeling has done, is a discipline. Many of her quoted conversational tidbits are children’s voices, as children often model for us the close attention and willing sense of wonder that we’ve lost as we mature, grow jaded, become inured to delight. We can relearn how to pay attention.

Therapist and author Mary Pipher describes a friend who looks for evidence of love wherever she goes: “If she sees a couple holding hands while they wait for a bus, or a silver-haired lady carrying an ice-cream cone into a hospital, … she feels a ping of pleasure at further evidence of love in the universe.” I have been inspired to make a practice of this as well.

Dreading a series of stops in downtown Bozeman last fall, I challenged myself to look for evidence of joy rather than focusing on the crowds of tourists, the expensive stores, and the hopeless search for parking. I even carried a little notebook in which I could jot down what evidence I found. This was a fun and gratifying way to focus on all the lovely things about Bozeman and its inhabitants: Well-tended planters blooming, happy dogs wagging, an old friend working at the bookstore… you get the idea. On many occasions since then, I have prompted myself, “Look for joy.”

 Pay attention. What you look for, you will find. Make a habit of looking for delight.

Anew?

By Carolyn Pinet

Seated outside the cafe,

I could try a crossword -

or a New Year poem -

or I could just sit here and cogitate

while Lucy the Beagle trawls for crumbs,

my fingers curl due to the nip in the air,

and a young guy, in a hurry, enters the cafe,

gives me a smile and nod and says, "hello."

Then another guy appears with a huge labradoodle

he ties up near me and leaves him anxiously waiting -

I try to reassure the dog with a few words

his master will come back and get him -

which, shortly, he actually does.

In fact, I'm the only one sitting here outside

this first day of January.

I almost didn't make it but then said to myself,

"Why not?"

Life is short, I'm pushing my eighth decade,

and my iffy car should just make it there."

The cafe closes at 2 pm and it's now 1:48,

yes, life is even shorter than I thought.

From a small basket inside the cafe I select

an intense square of Ghirardelli chocolate,

and throw a small piece to an inquisitive crow,

and I discover birds also adore dark and sweet.

It's now I take my first, irresistible bite.

Despite all, I surmise, I am blessed:

what could be better than this

brilliant moment

even as the clock ticks down to zero

and the crow flies off calling to me?

Happy New Year from Carolyn Pinet!

Cafe M, 2024

Ponderings: ‘We’ll take a cup of kindness yet’

By Susan Wordal

There are many traditions associated with the “New Year.” We make a list of resolutions, or things we want to accomplish. We make noise. We drink a toast. We give a gift. We exchange a kiss at midnight. We sing. But where might some of these lovely traditions have their origins? Out of curiosity, I went looking. It is amazing what information and disinformation you can find on the internet.

Our New Year’s Resolutions could be said to come from the Babylonians as early as 2600 B.C. as a way to reflect on what is past and plan ahead. Or, it could be part of a Jewish tradition when observing Rosh Hashana where one makes time for personal introspection and prayer, not to mention visiting the graves of those who have gone before. Expressions like “turning over a new leaf” are in keeping with this theme.

We make noise, whether it is shouting out “Happy New Year” or ringing bells or setting off firecrackers, as a part of the tradition in many cultures. The practice of setting off fireworks or even firing guns were thought to frighten off dark forces or demons. Some countries, like Denmark, used to throw plates or glasses against the front doors of others’ homes to banish bad spirits. Fire, not fireworks, can be seen as effective in banishing the bad things or seeking the light. In Ecuador they burn effigies, particularly of famous people, to destroy bad “juju” so people can start anew. It is likely that some of these traditions of fire and light are related to ushering in the light after the shortest day of the year. And the Yule log tradition supports this.

We drink a toast! Who hasn’t heard the pop of a cork on a champagne bottle at New Years? It’s considered a classic and classy beverage for a celebratory toast to the new year and new beginnings. Some places will use Wassail, which is a punch-like drink named for the Gaelic term meaning “good health” or “Wes hal” meaning “Be Whole”. (You will need baked apples, sugar, beer/ale, cinnamon, ginger, lemon and either sherry or sweet red wine for this drink.) Make sure someone is the designated driver and does not drink if you enjoy too much of this tradition!

Gifts are exchanged and enjoyed for many reasons, but before Christmas was designated as December 25th, the period beginning with December 21, the winter solstice, to January 1 was celebrated as Yule in the Scandinavian and Germanic traditions. The Yule season was marked by lights, fire, feasting and the exchange of gifts. Gifts of gilded nuts or coins marked the occasion in Rome. Eggs, a symbol of fertility in many cultures, were a common gift in Persia at the New Year. This makes some sense from the idea that the winter solstice marks the shortest day of the year an the re-emergence of light and fertility or rebirth. Egyptians traded earthenware flasks. This covered the toast and the gift. How efficient. Scotland saw exchanges of coal (warmth), shortbread (sweets) and silverware as a gift for good luck.

Kissing in the New Year. Ok, this one is more based on folklore about staying with your loved one or bringing in good luck. Also, strengthening the ties you wish to maintain. Some traditions go back to the Romans’ celebration of Saturnalia, which is based on a Roman god (Saturn) sometimes referred to as the “Lord of Misrule” (because the person to preside for the festivities was often from the lowest in the household and could engage in light-hearted mischief). And then there is a Viking festival called Hogmanay. (Which is also a Scottish and/or English tradition.) The tradition of Hogmanay is marked by bells (usually church bells) playing at midnight, which rings out the old and rings in the new. The kiss was a welcome to friends and strangers alike. This particular tradition (kissing at midnight) is likely based on folks finding any excuse to exchange a kiss, but might have something to do with believing that a kiss will ward off loneliness or will secure good luck if the person you kiss is the “right” person to bring such luck. A literary explanation supporting this theory may be found in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, (a 14th century Arthurian legend poem) which references a holiday game where the ladies who lose must give something to the men (who likely are happy to receive). While it is not specified the “something” is a kiss, one doesn’t need much prompting to get the idea.

And then there is the singing. We raise our voices in celebration, we sing quietly in grief, and just about everything in between. Wassail refers not only to drinking plentiful amounts of alcohol and enjoying oneself, but it also refers to what we call caroling. The most traditional song for the New Year is based on the Scottish poet Robert (Rabbie) Burns lyrics in 1788, although even the poet admitted the song had been around for years at that point. The director of the Robert Burns Birthplace Museum in Alloway, Scotland, David Hopes, has indicated Burns adapted an earlier version of the poem/song by Scottish poet Allan Ramsay. Many say Burns’ version is an improved version. “Auld Lang Syne” more or less literally means “old long since” or “times long past.” There are several stanzas to the poem, but most of us today know it and sing it as:

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and auld lang syne

For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne,

We’ll take a cup o kindness yet, for auld lang syne.”

Other classic songs you might hear: “Happy New Year” by ABBA; “It’s Just Another New Year’s Eve” by Barry Manilow; “Happy New Year” by Judy Garland; “Happy New Year” by Nat “King” Cole; “Let’s Start the New Year Right” by Bing Crosby; “Funky New Year” by the Eagles; “Champagne & Wine” by Etta James; and “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve” by Ella Fitzgerald.

So, here’s hoping, as we bid good-bye to 2023 and usher in 2024, you have raised a glass to memories and our departed, shared a laugh and a tear for what has been, and have rung in the new, with all the possibilities to be revealed. May yours be a ‘Guid New Year.’

Five More Golden Rings

By Carolyn Pinet

One ring I still wear for my husband,

gone these twelve years,

yet hardly gone, he continues to linger,

and his smile encircles

my wedding finger.

Two wrestlers in the ring dodge and weave,

yes, two contorted and heaving,

who will carry the day?

But look, it's Noel, now they move

together and embrace a gentle stay.

Here comes number three,

a mystic number if ever I saw one:

three in one, gates fly apart,

angels toot in exaltation while we all sing.

The music rises and the skies ring.

Four peals and I pick up the house phone -

another mad ad? -

another unpaid bill?

But no, I hear a voice from across the miles, repeating.

I'm elated and heartened by a loving greeting.

I hear bells - in my ears or chiming aloft?

Are they sleigh bells, church bells

or cowbells in the field?

But listen, my doorbell rings with Yuletide cheer,

I fling my door wide open to welcome you all here.

"Ring out wild bells to the wild sky,"

five rings, five bells and Christmas is nigh!

Christmastide, 2023