Pen-demic

  This stained-glass window was donated to the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in downtown Birmingham  by the people of Wales after the church was bombed in 1963. (Solomon Crenshaw, For The Birmingham Times) Unexpected neighboring Meeting without assembling Worshipping without walls Zooming without traveling WestWinging without commercials Broken-hearting of America Peanut butter experimenting Richard Rohring Advent Understanding without knowing Waiting without promises.

By Judy Richardson  December 15, 2020 Heather Cox Richardson stated today: “Yesterday, the official Twitter account of the Arizona Republican Party asked followers if they were willing to die to overturn the election, then posted a clip from the film “Rambo” in which the main character is threatening someone’s life, saying “This is what we do, who we are. Live for nothing, or die for something.”  It makes us uneasy. “How extensive are the forest fires Trump is leaving behind?” His scorched earth policy seems to be affecting all areas of government and radicalizing his followers. His contempt for the “Deep State” is obvious. But beyond that his callous regard for American citizens who do not kowtow to him is contemptible. It is clearly killing us in droves. Meanwhile he is profiting from his “attempt” to overturn our 2020 election. Who knows what will happen in Georgia, especially if Democrat senators are elected? Will there be Civil War?  This should be a season of Joy- n...

  It is that time of year, between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, when I sit with both my old and a brand new calendar transcribing the regularly scheduled meetings and events from the old onto the new. It has been difficult during 2020, as so many meetings and events got cancelled or moved from in person to online, some with a change of day or time that the calendar didn’t always keep up. So full of line throughs, and cross outs and erasures and annotations, that often it was difficult to read when it was updated. While most things go in my google calendar, accessible by phone or computer, the kitchen calendar is still important, it’s where the family schedule goes. It’s where we record the important events of our lives. But how do I fill it out for 2021? Do I put down the “old” meetings days and times?  Or the pandemic shift to the meetings?  Do I fill it out in pencil? But then it’s faint against the paper and hard to read at a distance. Pen? But then it means more line...

  Advent I have  hope  for  a new communion, not of remembrance, but anticipation, given at a table unladen of history, to join unburdened as a hungry child. To taste on Earth the  peace that lives within  the hearts of those, alone and together, who share instead  of covet and hoard. To celebrate the  joy of bringing to the table what I can, and gratefully receiving what can only come from above, the gift of life that is born again each day as a child in need of  love  and nurture, but curious as well, seeking the wonder,  the illumination, of eternal truth. John Northrip

  Box after overflowing box of ornaments. Our collection has grown to many more than can gracefully adorn our tree. My son, Cole, and daughter, Ashley, climb high and bend low to find the perfect spot to display each precious ornament while I tell each ornament’s story. There’s a pair of glass booties that family friends gave my parents when I was born, a cross-stitched teddy bear I made in middle school Home Ec that hung from my grandparents’ kitchen doorframe for years, a beaming bride and groom for the year my husband and I married, and hand-painted plaster ornaments Cole and Ashley made in preschool. Each ornament has a story and symbolizes an important part of our lives. The prime spot on the tree is saved for our annual family ornaments that we have added since my son was born. This year, as I carefully unwrapped the tissue from each ornament, I was shocked to see we already had one for 2020. I thought, “That can’t be right. We aren’t supposed to buy our 2020 ornament until C...

  Angel heralding my joy for Christmas: Trumpeting for all to gather To celebrate Christ’s birth— Elegantly swaying in the breeze Waltzing in the wind. Found one morning in a heap. The wind knocked out of her. Pieces scattered. Rainy and cold, I try to help. . . . The wind is too strong, too biting. Brought into the garage, a refuge from the wind, To re-assemble, To warm my hands, to gather my thoughts. With pliers, zip ties, stakes, She stands again, but. . . . She’s changed.  She has her battle scars, but She also has changed her attitude. She is sassy, challenging. Blown over by the winds, She leans a little— her dance has changed ,  her wings outstretched—jazz wings. Still playing her trumpet, but more Louis Armstrong  And less Gabriel. Stand back. Keep your distance. Dancing by myself. Challenging the world, But, dancing. Celebrating Christ's birth Alone, But, dancing.

  -Nikki Douglas I’ve been avoiding writing. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been posting little blurbs on Instagram and Facebook. When there is an accompanying picture to write about, writing seems less intimidating. I write about my girls. I write about running. I write about sunrises and sunsets and being outside. I write about seeking gratitude amidst uncertainty. All of the words tapped out on my phone. My constant companion. A phone makes it so easy to type out some words and hit “share.” I appreciate and curse the convenience. While I enjoy reading about friends’ adventures or how their children are doing, the muck that plagues most of social media right now is daunting. I try to balance the negativity by sharing things I think are uplifting or, at least, non-triggering, but my usual optimism is unreliable. Whether I am sucked into the rabbit hole of social media or simply driving through my neighborhood, division and blame seems to be everywhere I look. It’s not just political, ei...

Several months ago, our daughter asked me to read a book to her children using YouTube.    Since I haven’t spent much time with them this past year, nor can I visit them in their new home, I agreed to give it a try. First, I needed to buy a tripod for my phone with a halo light—plenty available on Amazon at a reasonable cost.    We also agreed on a book— Number the Stars by Lois Lowry—not terribly long, and it was one I had previously read.     I felt like this was a good fit for me since I had also been a secondary reading teacher. Because my “audience” was grandchildren ages 13-5, I had to explain vocabulary from time to time.    Then, I got the idea to teach them “think-alouds”.    That’s reading a story out loud but also saying the thoughts that run through a person’s head while reading:    making comparisons, asking questions, predicting,    commenting.    Every now and then, I inserted family stories...

  You know those warrior princesses that are both strong and beautiful? With long sweeping dark hair and powers to right things that are wrong in the world? My best friend Rehab is one of them. Her power isn’t flying, although she drives as if she can. It isn’t the use of a signature weapon, although she wields tools that serve her well in battles. She has special powers to save people in the ER. She’s a warrior, battling each day for life.   With her husband deployed to the Middle East weeks before our own country went into lockdown and just now recently returned, Rey has been on the battlefield back home, donning whatever PPE is available, and waging war with an unseen virus attacking her friends and neighbors. After daily combat, the princess returns home to parent two toddlers, praying each day that their own superheroes will continue to care for them while she fights on the front lines. She even shielded her children when the opponent attacked her and brought the battlegr...