As I write, it is the 25th anniversary of a snow day in Telluride, Colorado, where the temperature hovered around zero, I took that risk we call marriage. The first year was the most difficult.

When my son was 10 he refused to practice the guitar. I told his teacher he wanted to quit. “Good,” said the teacher, “I want him to quit also.” This was not one of my finer “mother” moments. Should we push harder, I wondered?

I am excited about 2018.  My baby, God willing, will graduate from college. Our clergy positions at the church will finally be all filled.  The church board is moving forward with a solid vision for reaching out to our community. What are you hoping for in 2018? 

There is nothing quite like that night. The sanctuary goes dark and one candle is lit, until the room radiates a holy light. When the gathered community sings Silent Night on that candlelit night, even the biggest skeptic can believe.

After we stuffed ourselves with corn bread dressing, oyster dressing, turkey and sweet potatoes with browned marshmallows on top served on aunt Millie’s Franciscan Apple china, we lingered at the elegant dinning room table for hours telling stories and laughing. After the sun set, Dad said we were leaving but then Millie made turkey/cream cheese/cranberry sandwiches and we began the two-hour goodbye until finally we pulled out of the driveway, aunt Millie standing there waving until we were out of sigh

As you eat the last “fun size” snickers, take down the spider webs from the shrubs and store the goblin costumes away, your mind might drift towards the Thanksgiving and Christmas gatherings on the horizon.  And these celebrations can arouse anxiety and dread. 

Do you remember that show “myth busters”?  They would take a common belief that we hold and dispel it with the actual truth. Well last Monday, as Dave and I hosted a dessert gathering for the most recent new members of our church, I had a few myths busted.

My friend started coming to church and sitting on the back row. It was a rough patch in his life. He liked the music, the silence, the encouraging words from the preacher. But he never spoke to anyone, slipping out before the final hymn.

Install. The goal of the day was installation. Men were coming to install a new dishwasher in the morning, a new washing machine in the afternoon. Maybe the garage door installer would also show up to give us a bid. When the green and white truck pulled out of the driveway before noon, we were smiling and enjoying hearing the quiet hum of the new dishwasher. Then I turned on the kitchen faucet and no water came out. Something in the installation had gone terribly wrong.

I am intrigued by the phrase “spiritual millionaire.” The phrase jumped off the page at me as I was re-reading the autobiography of one of the great spiritual leaders of the 20th century, Thomas Merton, called The Seven Story Mountain.

How is a Christian to respond to shouts of white supremacy and anti-semitic slogans? And how can we hold fast to our conviction to “love neighbor as self” without escalating the conflict?

I am writing to you from the monastery in Atchison where 125 Benedictine nuns are eagerly awaiting 600 guests who are coming to watch the full solar eclipse. An astronomer from the Vatican will be here to speak and they are serving hot dogs on the lawn. One nun giggled as she pictured people stopping on the highway to see the moment that hasn’t happened for 99 years and will not happen here again in our lifetimes.

Maybe you and I want more than a strong and thriving church. Maybe what we are asking is how to be an extraordinary church. We’d like to be more than a collection of folks with similar values who love God. What we really envision is becoming a community where the spirit of God dwells.