a prophetic voice-

Today, a friend reminded me of one of my favorite poems by Mary Oliver, "The Summer Day", which closes with these lines: I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day. Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? With what better words and thoughts can we begin a new year? with the reminders of the beauty and wonder of the natural world of which we are a part (though far too often we set ourselves apart from it); reminders of the fragility of life; reminders about the importance of living that life to the fullest. As I am a person of words, I could write many more of them, confront you with many more thoughts, but I prefer, on this brink of a new year, to permit Nature  to speak for itself, astounding us wit

Indoors, my house still looks like this...full Christmas regalia, with the mantle graced by my many Santas and Santa pillows on every chair. And so it will stay for the Twelve Days of Christmas, in spite of neighbors hastening to remove their Christmas trees which will soon be lining the curbs in the streets all around my home, while I prolong this holiday which I so dearly love, the reminder of Love taking flesh and dwelling among and in us as at no other time of the year. The outdoors, however, tell a different story, as in my front garden, daffodils are about 6 inches tall, cherry trees are in flower here and there in the neighborhood, and irises are a-bloom on Main Street. No sign of winter here...in fact, these more-than-a-few hints of springtime are the result of our schizophrenic December temperatures here in the Piedmont of NC, with many days in the upper 60s and a hard freeze yet to happen. Trees everywhere are budding as Nature seems to be under the impression that springtim

I love to ride the train, and it was with great pleasure that, on a  recent nippy Friday December morning,  I boarded the Amtrak train at the station in High Point for the 75-minute ride to Charlotte. Our beautifully-restored depot is a delight to the eye and offers waiting room comfort to passengers, and the coaches are both clean and comfortable. No, I am not being paid by Amtrak; I have loved train travel since I was a child and find it both relaxing and pleasurable, both of which driving to Charlotte has ceased to be. I read, relaxed, and enjoyed the scenery, with no worries about traffic or parking or any of the annoyances which all too often mark any automobile trip these days. After arriving in Charlotte, I crossed Tryon Street where I very quickly was able to board a bus into the uptown, for the amazing price of 85 cents when I produced my Medicare card. Since I was meeting friends for lunch and I was early, I headed for the Belk building and Founders Hall, where I knew I wou

MERRY CHRISTMAS, dear friends and family, far and near. As the year draws to a close, as the natural world here in North Carolina prepares itself for winter’s restorative rest, as the days grow shorter and the path of the sun moves to the southern sky, I am thinking of each and all of you with much love and warm memories. A five-week journey to East Africa accompanied by my dear friend, Mae Miner, working with the founder of The Nyanya Project, Mary Martin Niepold, in behalf of African grandmothers, was the high point of my year…a different kind of ministry. Daily life has been filled with the joy of spending time with my children and the grands (Lindsay, 23; Felicia, 15; Jack & Jamie, 12; Callie, 10; Nickolis, 9; Mattie, 7; Jannie, 6; and Rollin, 3); lunching with friends or entertaining friends here (I still LOVE to cook for company); being part of a wonderful monthly women’s discussion group, Fresh Bread; serving The Arbor Lutheran Church as interim pastor; practicing yoga i

"Be prepared for 'EXTREME Baking' ", my cousin, Cheryl, warned me when I suggested, back in September, that I come up for a weekend to learn to make nut rolls with her mom, and invited her to be part of the baking party. Nut rolls are a German- or perhaps Austrian or Hungarian delicacy, usually made only at Christmas since the preparation is labor-intensive...dozens of walnuts ground for the filling which is mixed by hand...the five-step mixing of the pastry layer, followed by a first rising, rolling, filling, and a second rising. Only then are the lovely, fat rolls ready for baking. Oh, and did I mention brushing the tops with beaten egg mixed with a bit of sugar, to create a shiny glaze? I have no idea where the recipe originated...I don't know that anyone does. But in the small, ethnic steel-town where I spent my childhood in Pennsylvania, all of the women baked them at the holidays: Germans, Austrians, Croatians, Serbians, Hungarians...but you get the pict

And suddenly it's December, the last month of the year. In 31 all-too-short days, 2011 will draw to a close, the calendar page will turn, and we will be teetering on the brink of a new year, 2012. I remember well being in my teens and wondering if I would still be alive at the turn of the century. After all, I would be the advanced age of fifty-eight when that happened. Yet, here I am, happily chugging along toward seventy, and doing quite well, thank you very much. My teen-aged self would undoubtedly be quite surprised. Returned yesterday afternoon from a six-day trip to Pennsylvania, to reconnect with family and friends there: 2 days with my Aunt Jean in Steelton for "extreme baking" (more about this later), along with my cousin, Cheryl, and including a trip to Schmidts' butchershop for their amazing German sausage; an afternoon, evening, and overnight with my oldest friend, Diane, and her husband, Bob, in Hummelstown. ( She is actually two years my junior but