Faith

“Everyone here loves you,” my boss said, “and I don’t know if you know what has happened in the last four to six weeks, but we’ve lost a ton of business,” he continued, before explaining that I was being laid off because there was no work for me to do. I had experienced this before, so I knew what I had to do. I had to keep my emotions, pray, and get to work. Literally and figuratively. I just need to buckle down, update my resume, boost my skill set, and figure this thing out, I thought, as I left the unexpected video call. “I’m going to cry, pray, and obey,” I told a friend. “Feel what you feel,” she said, “but

Finding others who understand what we are facing is priceless and often hard to find. But God can bring that person into our lives. They may already be there and we don’t realize it, or life circumstances create a connection we never expected. There is a story in the Bible about two women whose lives were intertwined, even more so after a visit from the angel Gabriel: Elizabeth and Mary. Their relationship paints a picture of the beauty that comes when God places another in our lives to rely on. When we first met Elizabeth, she was no longer a young woman. She was unable to bear children and was well past the years when she could even hope. The heartbreak, disappointment,

“I’ll wait to open gifts,” I said to myself as large flakes drifted downward. “First, the trail along the river.” Because there’s nothing more magical on Christmas morning than following a river while white, fluffy stuff swirls every which way from the leaden skies. It’s now past noon as I write this. My first Christmas not with family. Five years ago this month, I had head surgery. My husband whisked me away to a nearby mountain resort village for a blissful healing time, even though he was dealing with cancer and the side effects of wretched chemo. We packed food for a simple Christmas dinner, a two-foot tree decked in tiny white lights, and a couple gifts. Seeking the One Who Can

“You mean we drove all the way down here for nothing?” the couple asked. I was in the volunteer check-in line for the annual Thanksgiving dinner hosted by the Salvation Army in Tucson. The man and woman in front of me were clearly annoyed. They were told that, because of a glitch in the computer system, if they hadn’t received confirmation when they registered online, then their names weren’t recorded. And now the volunteer positions were filled. But if they came back at noon, maybe they could help with clean-up. The volunteer coordinator was apologetic as the irritated couple turned away, muttering to themselves. My First Thanksgiving Alone When it was my turn, I admitted I was one of the registered-but-not-registered volunteers

Gratitude sits with you differently in November. Makes you feel toasty, like the hygge of fire-side reading. Slows your steps, your heart, your soul. You welcome her to your table with a carefully laid-out china and your best chair. In November, gratitude is the easy-to-get-along-with friend. Her company is pleasant and light. She shares gentle wisdom. Notes the gift of long sleep, chilled air in the lungs, sun hanging steady. Pulls you to a crimson-red maple leaf. “God loves you like that,” she says, eyes dancing. She’s a constant companion, but she’s not pesky. Doesn’t require much. Maybe a photo snapped once a day. A short caption written for Instagram or Facebook. Or a hand-penned journal line. She’s mostly invitation, though we