Stories of Hope, Belonging, and Longing

The Noise of Christmas

the-noise-of-christmas

I love the words to “Silent Night”, but I don’t really believe them. The night of Jesus’ birth was probably anything but silent—with a town full of travelers, a barn full of animals, a sky full of angels, and the eruption of shepherds running down the dusty streets.

I imagine that night to be a bit more like the World Relief ESL Christmas party I attended a few days back. Celebratory!

I followed brightly dressed South Asian women bearing plastic bags of food up the old church steps. Inside, I was greeted warmly and pointed past a room crowded with aromas.

Continue Reading

Stories of Hope, Belonging, and Longing

Life to the Full

life-to-the-full

I’m mounting the church steps. My favorite greeter is grasping the hand of the person in front of me with a sturdy handshake. I take my turn, clinging to the weathered skin pulled tight over bone and muscle, running my thumb over wrinkles made from years of love and labor. I don’t settle for a handshake, though. Today I claim a hug.

I didn’t expect to see Pete at the church door this morning. I found out a couple days back that the doctor declared it time for hospice. The doctor must not know Pete, know that he’s still standing outside in the fall of the year wrestling handshakes from churchfolk. Winter hasn’t come yet.

Continue Reading

Stories of Hope, Belonging, and Longing

Delighting

seeing

Mushrooms mottle my front yard and I’m enamored.

They are tiny white flags reminding me of the rush of rain that greened my withered grass. They are welcome.

Each morning I can choose what I notice: rainclouds or red leaves, mud or mushrooms. Today I’m determined to notice the tiny delights–like these mushrooms–along my morning run. Why miss the pleasures God so literally plants on my path? I embark on a hunt. Continue Reading

Stories of Hope, Belonging, and Longing

Giants

giants

He’s Goliath, this tiny preschool African boy with skin of creamy cocoa and beautiful wide eyes. He stands in the center of the rug, smiling and shrugging his shoulders in embarrassment, though he was the first of all the children to volunteer.

We sing together again—all of us from Myanmar and Nepal and Sudan and Somalia and the US—the song of David and Goliath. “Only a boy named David, only a little sling. Only a boy named David, but he could pray and sing…”

And the sling goes round and round and round and round and round and round and round. We watch one invisible stone go up in the air…and the giant comes tumbling down. Though this little boy’s tumble is in slow motion, and he never stops smiling.
Continue Reading

123456…10