Spiritual Life
The Last Suit
Lent has begun and I find myself gripped by an inexplicable urge to clean my closet. For those who observe the six-week period of Lent, it’s a time of introspection and reflection, a time of eliminating that which separates us from God. Traditionally this has meant giving up something – particularly something that seems self-indulgent, like chocolate or alcohol, or a habit that might create a barrier between the self and the divine. Something that I came to terms with years ago is that I need to work out my spiritual life in the physical world. Because when I do…
Deadra 
Tomatoes
A few weeks ago, while visiting one of our favorite booths at the local farmers market, I was delighted to see a basket full of just-picked vine-ripened tomatoes. Because I avoid buying what passes for “fresh” tomatoes in the supermarket (which are almost always a pathetic shade of washed-out pink with a mealy texture), I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into one of these beauties. As I held one, I was momentarily transported to a different time and place…
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Lilies
I never thought I be reassured by lilies, until…
The morning of July 10 my husband and I drove home from spending a weekend in the Adirondacks. The skies were ominous, the weather forecast dire, but the rain hadn’t yet begun to fall. Even so, we knew that some roads were already closed. But from what we could see, none of the roads we planned to travel had been affected by the worsening storm.
So, we were surprised when a little more than halfway home, we came to the place where one of the roads we depended on was closed. Keep reading
Treasures of Darkness
I will give you the treasures of darkness…” (Isaiah 45:3)
When I was a child, I was afraid of the dark. I was certain that hideous creatures lurked in the shadows, ready to pounce the minute I let down my guard. At bedtime I insisted that the hall light outside my bedroom door remain lit until after I fell asleep, convinced that it would keep the other-worldly beings at bay.
Like most children, I eventually outgrew the need Keep reading
House of Grief
Earlier this year I visited the Winchester Mystery House in San Jose, California. Built by Sarah Winchester (1839-1922), the widow of William Winchester, heir to the Winchester rifle fortune, it’s famous for its staircases that lead nowhere and windows that look out onto brick walls just inches away. This house is an unwieldy affair. Any attempt to navigate it without a guide and you’re sure to get lost in its endless tangle of rooms and hallways that don’t align in any logical way. They just go on, and on
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Turn of Winter
“Do you have half of your wood left?” our neighbor who lived down the road and up the adjacent hill asked as he pulled out of our snow-dusted driveway. “There’s still a way to go this winter.” He and his wife were among the first people we met when we bought our house. Being from suburban New Jersey, we had no real idea how to manage Vermont winters. But kind people like our neighbor were generous with advice, which generally came at unexpected times – like that night, when we were driving to a choral rehearsal.Keep reading
One Good Thing
“You’ll never make everybody happy.”
“Don’t do other people’s jobs for them.”
“We’ve been doing it this way for years; we’re not going to change now.”
Like many newly minted ministers, the people in my first churches taught me far more than I could possibly have taught them. Their lessons have stuck with me over my decades of pastoral work. But one gem in particular stands out. I’ve shared with more people than I can count. “I look for a good thing – just one small, good thing – each day and hold on to it.
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Angel at Our Door
It’s Christmas and our power is out.
Like so many others, our area was hit by a powerful storm that featured everything from unseasonably warm temperatures and rain to a rapid chill with fierce winds. That’s a recipe for a power outage.
But we’re among the lucky ones. We have a generator that supplies enough power to keep us warm and well-lit.
Until it didn’t. After running continuously for more than 24 hours, it quit.
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Holding Hope
I received the paperweight in this photo more than 40 years ago during what had just become the darkest Advent season of my life.
“This is a gift from Mrs. McCord and me,” the president of Princeton Seminary said to me as he pressed it in my hand.
A freak accident had injured my (at that time) husband, and radically altered the course of both of our lives. Sitting in the hospital chapel, having just received the news and allowing the gravity of the situation sink in, I was surprised to look up and see President McCord slide into the pew beside me. “I’m here to pray with you,” he said. Keep reading
Gratitude
Expressing gratitude is something I had always taken for granted. By that I mean that I just did it when I remembered (like sending thank-you notes), but otherwise didn’t think much about it. I certainly never considered expressing gratitude to be a spiritual discipline. And the possibility that such expressions might be therapeutic never occurred to me.
But recently that changed
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