I go this week.
We go.
And we do not go alone.
Continue readingOn the day after Ash Wednesday, a certain 97-year-old of my close acquaintance emerged hale and hearty from her latest adventure.
Continue readingAlmost missed it. Indeed, I did.
Continue readingPart of my ritual in tending to this blog is to change the “header” with each new liturgical season – so that the image atop the homepage of With Us Still…evokes (at least in my mind) the spirit of the season.
On this, the Feast of the Transfiguration, thought I might re-post a reflection I wrote a bit earlier this year…when we were blessed to visit the very spot where Jesus dazzled…even as some key disciples dithered. Here’s what I wrote back in mid-Lent:
Perhaps Peter should have traveled by taxi up to the top of Mount Tabor. That experience certainly would have kept him from falling asleep.
My weekend hasn’t turned out exactly the way I planned.
I didn’t catch Dennis’ last name. And he didn’t even ask mine.
Even so, there Dennis was, on duty, at 7:40 AM…to open up and welcome me (plus about 35 other strangers) into the Fellowship Hall of the Peace Evangelical Lutheran Church in Chester yesterday.
As a rule, beets would not make my Top 10 list as I “choose my way through” a food buffet. But something about these beets seemed to be calling my name – perhaps because I’d been in-country less than 24 hours. “When in Galilee, do as the Galilleans,” I figured.
I had a lot to learn about local food, I discovered on Day 1 of our pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Starting with these “beets”… that turned out to be pickled figs.
Perhaps Peter should have traveled by taxi up to the top of Mount Tabor. That experience certainly would have kept him from falling asleep.
Our grandson, I notice, takes a unique approach to savoring rain.