PASTORAL LETTERS
As a way to stay connected during the Covid pandemic, Rev. Nora began a weekly series of pastoral letters and has carried on ever since...
#248 - May 5, 2026
”Two are better than one because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up the other, but woe to one who is alone and falls and does not have another to help. Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone? And though one might prevail against another, two will withstand one. A threefold cord is not quickly broken. ~Ecclesiastes 4:9-12~
The church is hopping today and unless you’ve been out of the country and off the internet for the last month you’ll know why. The Garage Sale starts in 53 hours. For the last month people have been spending parts of their days here. They’ve been puttering, sorting, cleaning, sorting, pricing, sorting, pondering “what the heck is this?”, and sorting. But today things get ramped up and it will stay that way until Saturday. People are simply everywhere! It’s like a beehive of activity. And it makes me think of how amazing this place is. Truly, truly amazing.
It shouldn’t surprise you when I say I love church. I love the music and the prayers and the traditions. The story of our faith is one that has been woven into my heart in such a way that I’m not sure it can be separated any more. This isn’t that I am without doubts, fears, questions, frustrations… these things plague me as much as the next person. But it does mean that each of those things are constantly and consistently met with the grounding truths I’ve come to trust: God is love, Christ is good, The Spirit is here.
But I have become acutely aware that what makes this church a church are the people and more than that, the way we people share this journey. I wonder if we forget that sometimes. I know I for sure get caught up in the planning, preparing, and doing of life. I see how the shiny secular world has become the most efficient distraction and how the sacredness of a community of faith has slipped into the shade.
But sitting here in my office I can think of nothing else. Ok, ok some of you may be wondering why I’m sitting in my office writing a letter and not out there helping…that’s a very good question, and I promise as soon as I’m done here, I’ll go help. But I thought we could maybe use a bit of a reminder that a community of faith is not just about Sunday Worship. It’s about all the others stuff of life and how we all come together.
When life is smooth then we get to do things like garage sales, and concerts, and bake sales, and spring teas. We work hard and have a few laughs, if we’re lucky we make some money for this place we love. Then there are times when something wonderful happens, love is found, a baby is born, a new adventure is starting. These highs of life are made better as together we celebrate and give thanks for the blessings we have come to know. And when it comes to the lows of life, well, this community of Christ helps with that too. Together we weep, rage, make space for those doubts, fears, questions, and frustrations.
And in all of it, the highs the lows and everything in between, we remember that God is Love, Christ is Good, The Spirit is Here. Thank you for being the Church. Ok…I better go make myself useful.
In peace,
Nora
It shouldn’t surprise you when I say I love church. I love the music and the prayers and the traditions. The story of our faith is one that has been woven into my heart in such a way that I’m not sure it can be separated any more. This isn’t that I am without doubts, fears, questions, frustrations… these things plague me as much as the next person. But it does mean that each of those things are constantly and consistently met with the grounding truths I’ve come to trust: God is love, Christ is good, The Spirit is here.
But I have become acutely aware that what makes this church a church are the people and more than that, the way we people share this journey. I wonder if we forget that sometimes. I know I for sure get caught up in the planning, preparing, and doing of life. I see how the shiny secular world has become the most efficient distraction and how the sacredness of a community of faith has slipped into the shade.
But sitting here in my office I can think of nothing else. Ok, ok some of you may be wondering why I’m sitting in my office writing a letter and not out there helping…that’s a very good question, and I promise as soon as I’m done here, I’ll go help. But I thought we could maybe use a bit of a reminder that a community of faith is not just about Sunday Worship. It’s about all the others stuff of life and how we all come together.
When life is smooth then we get to do things like garage sales, and concerts, and bake sales, and spring teas. We work hard and have a few laughs, if we’re lucky we make some money for this place we love. Then there are times when something wonderful happens, love is found, a baby is born, a new adventure is starting. These highs of life are made better as together we celebrate and give thanks for the blessings we have come to know. And when it comes to the lows of life, well, this community of Christ helps with that too. Together we weep, rage, make space for those doubts, fears, questions, and frustrations.
And in all of it, the highs the lows and everything in between, we remember that God is Love, Christ is Good, The Spirit is Here. Thank you for being the Church. Ok…I better go make myself useful.
In peace,
Nora
#247 - April 27, 2026
“There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith,
one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all”
~Ephesians 4:4-6~
Well, we’re not going to talk about the snow today I’ll tell you that. Or the clouds, or the -1 degrees outside… I could chat a bit about how funny it is that we’re all commenting on how confused the geese look and how we seem to find some comfort in it. Misery loves company I suppose, even if it’s a goose.
I could offer some words of hope like “Fear not, Spring will come eventually!” But I fear I may jinx us even more and I certainly do not want the blame for any of this. I could offer some words of encouragement like “In the long run we’ll be grateful. We need the moisture after all!” But then I remember the Farmer Wisdom I was offered many years ago: “You can’t grow a crop on snow!” So that’s out.
Clearly looking out the window, this morning isn’t going to inspire this week’s letter so maybe I need to look in. And what I see sitting in front of me this moment is my bottle of Anointing Oil. It’s made of Frankincense and Myrrh (yes like what the Magi brought) and it smells like Baptism. And just like that I don’t care about the snow or the bewildered waterfowl outside my window because I’m too busy thinking about the baptism we celebrated at church this past Sunday and how it filled my heart with so much joy.
We can’t deny that there’s something special about this Sacrament. Not unlike Communion, when we break the bread and share the cup, God feels very close during a Baptism. But Communion feels deeply personal to me. I choose to come to that table, I choose to partake in that holy meal, and while it does highlight how all of God’s people are invited there, wanted there, when that bread and cup are passed to me, even if the church is filled to the rafters, it’s just me and God. I love it.
Baptism, on the other hand, feels like the Spirit has thrown wide the curtains and flew open the doors, pulled in more chairs and proclaimed “Gather in friends! We’ve got something to celebrate!” While also a deeply personal commitment and sacred moment, Baptism at its core is about our entire Faith Family. Whether the person taking part of the sacrament is a brand new human or a not so new one, the message is the same…they are claiming their place as an heir to the promise of Abraham, they are claiming their place in Christ’s Church, a welcome that is offered with overwhelming love, and they are claiming not only the promise God has made to always be with them, but our promise as a church to be there for them too.
Baptism is a moment of celebration, it is a sign of hope for the future of our congregation, it is a visible sign of God’s Grace that is constantly moving among us, connecting us to one another, regardless of the weather outside. So maybe we can take a moment today to lift a prayer for all those people this church has had the honour of baptising over the years. May we pray for those who are feeling a pull on their hearts to embrace a life of faith and are looking for a place they might belong. May we pray for the courage to be that place, and may we give thanks for everyone who calls Calvary their home, near or far, because knowing that, through God, we’ve got each other makes life better.
In peace,
Nora
I could offer some words of hope like “Fear not, Spring will come eventually!” But I fear I may jinx us even more and I certainly do not want the blame for any of this. I could offer some words of encouragement like “In the long run we’ll be grateful. We need the moisture after all!” But then I remember the Farmer Wisdom I was offered many years ago: “You can’t grow a crop on snow!” So that’s out.
Clearly looking out the window, this morning isn’t going to inspire this week’s letter so maybe I need to look in. And what I see sitting in front of me this moment is my bottle of Anointing Oil. It’s made of Frankincense and Myrrh (yes like what the Magi brought) and it smells like Baptism. And just like that I don’t care about the snow or the bewildered waterfowl outside my window because I’m too busy thinking about the baptism we celebrated at church this past Sunday and how it filled my heart with so much joy.
We can’t deny that there’s something special about this Sacrament. Not unlike Communion, when we break the bread and share the cup, God feels very close during a Baptism. But Communion feels deeply personal to me. I choose to come to that table, I choose to partake in that holy meal, and while it does highlight how all of God’s people are invited there, wanted there, when that bread and cup are passed to me, even if the church is filled to the rafters, it’s just me and God. I love it.
Baptism, on the other hand, feels like the Spirit has thrown wide the curtains and flew open the doors, pulled in more chairs and proclaimed “Gather in friends! We’ve got something to celebrate!” While also a deeply personal commitment and sacred moment, Baptism at its core is about our entire Faith Family. Whether the person taking part of the sacrament is a brand new human or a not so new one, the message is the same…they are claiming their place as an heir to the promise of Abraham, they are claiming their place in Christ’s Church, a welcome that is offered with overwhelming love, and they are claiming not only the promise God has made to always be with them, but our promise as a church to be there for them too.
Baptism is a moment of celebration, it is a sign of hope for the future of our congregation, it is a visible sign of God’s Grace that is constantly moving among us, connecting us to one another, regardless of the weather outside. So maybe we can take a moment today to lift a prayer for all those people this church has had the honour of baptising over the years. May we pray for those who are feeling a pull on their hearts to embrace a life of faith and are looking for a place they might belong. May we pray for the courage to be that place, and may we give thanks for everyone who calls Calvary their home, near or far, because knowing that, through God, we’ve got each other makes life better.
In peace,
Nora
#246 - April 20, 2026
“So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own.
Today’s trouble is enough for today.”
~ Matthew 6:34~
I woke up this morning to a lovely thing; the sun was shining in my window. And as I opened my eyes I thought “At last! Spring has sprung!” I checked the forecast and was delighted to see that even at 7am it was already above 0 degrees out, perfection. Before we know it, our flowerpots will be filled, our gardens will be planted, the robins will be hopping around in their smart yellow stockings, and we’ll enjoy our morning coffee smiling at the day rather than grumbling at the snowbanks. Then I made a mistake…I looked ahead…
My Spiritual Director (who is wise beyond words and has yet to steer me wrong in the 9 years I’ve been going to her) tells me regularly that I must try and live more “in the moment”. More to the point I need to let go of the need to control the outcome of things and allow life to be what it’s going to be. I do not like this. Not one bit. I very much like to know what’s coming and as I sit here enjoying the sun and trying very hard to forget what I read on the weather app for Thursday, I find myself wondering… am I alone on this or are any of you with me? Who amongst us finds it hard to live in the moment?
I used to think that this was based solely on my incessant need to be in control (of all the things). I have recently learned, however, that it also has to do with the fact I’m not very good at thinking on my feet. I’m one of those people who has a conversation with someone and then as they’re walking away think of all things I could or should have said. This of course is followed by hours of fretting over what I actually did say. Are you the kind of person who can just “be” in the moment? Or do you find yourself constantly revisiting the past and/or scanning the horizon for what’s coming down the road?
There’s a moment in the Gospel where Jesus tells his followers to not worry about what’s coming. That God will take care of the future, so just worry about what you’ve got going on right now. Again, not bad advice just really hard to do sometimes. Then I read the same passage from The Message Translation, and it offered a slightly shifted perspective. It reads: “Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.”
Could you imagine if we intentionally gave our entire attention to what God is doing right now? I mean if I had done that this morning, I would have spent much more time enjoying the sun coming in and hitting my pillow rather than lamenting the snow that hasn’t even arrived yet. Would I enjoy my meal more if I wasn’t already thinking about the dishes? Would I be more present in the person I’m sitting with if I’m not also thinking how I need to run to the store before I head home for the day?
Please know I am not the one you want to look to as an example of how to do this well. But I am an example of someone who wants to do this better. So, as we move into this week, may we give it space to hold whatever it’s going to hold, and may we feel the Spirit of our loving God woven into all of it.
In peace,
Nora
My Spiritual Director (who is wise beyond words and has yet to steer me wrong in the 9 years I’ve been going to her) tells me regularly that I must try and live more “in the moment”. More to the point I need to let go of the need to control the outcome of things and allow life to be what it’s going to be. I do not like this. Not one bit. I very much like to know what’s coming and as I sit here enjoying the sun and trying very hard to forget what I read on the weather app for Thursday, I find myself wondering… am I alone on this or are any of you with me? Who amongst us finds it hard to live in the moment?
I used to think that this was based solely on my incessant need to be in control (of all the things). I have recently learned, however, that it also has to do with the fact I’m not very good at thinking on my feet. I’m one of those people who has a conversation with someone and then as they’re walking away think of all things I could or should have said. This of course is followed by hours of fretting over what I actually did say. Are you the kind of person who can just “be” in the moment? Or do you find yourself constantly revisiting the past and/or scanning the horizon for what’s coming down the road?
There’s a moment in the Gospel where Jesus tells his followers to not worry about what’s coming. That God will take care of the future, so just worry about what you’ve got going on right now. Again, not bad advice just really hard to do sometimes. Then I read the same passage from The Message Translation, and it offered a slightly shifted perspective. It reads: “Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.”
Could you imagine if we intentionally gave our entire attention to what God is doing right now? I mean if I had done that this morning, I would have spent much more time enjoying the sun coming in and hitting my pillow rather than lamenting the snow that hasn’t even arrived yet. Would I enjoy my meal more if I wasn’t already thinking about the dishes? Would I be more present in the person I’m sitting with if I’m not also thinking how I need to run to the store before I head home for the day?
Please know I am not the one you want to look to as an example of how to do this well. But I am an example of someone who wants to do this better. So, as we move into this week, may we give it space to hold whatever it’s going to hold, and may we feel the Spirit of our loving God woven into all of it.
In peace,
Nora
#245 - April 13, 2026
“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”
~2nd Corinthians 3:17~
One of my favourite humans in the whole wide world got their driver’s license this morning. Turned 16 yesterday…and today…boom…she’s on the road! I vividly remember when my kids passed their road tests, I remember when I passed mine. I even have a faux memory of my parents getting theirs because my mother would tell the story so often…how my dad failed and she didn’t. It really is such a big deal, getting that “I passed” SGI sticker, allowing your parent to take (and with permission post) the photo of them standing by the car looking genuinely excited. It made me think of how life, especially adolescent life, is full of these Rites of Passage moments. How significant they are, how they have this way of shaping who we become and serve as sign posts along this road of life.
In the church these RofP tend to be tied to rituals: baptisms, confirmations, weddings, funerals. But out in the world they are a bit different. Fewer rituals but lots of firsts: first day of school, first job, first pay cheque, first car, first love, first heartbreak, first home that doesn’t have you sharing a bathroom with your ever increasingly annoying family. All of it is tied to a growing sense of independence or maybe it’s more than that…maybe it’s freedom.
The idea that we can go where were want, when we want, with whom we want…it’s nothing short of liberating. The first time I remember feeling this acutely was the day I was allowed to ride my two-wheeler to my friend’s house alone for the first time. I felt so incredibly free. There have been moments when I imagined my kids feeling the same way…the day Grace asked if she could walk the dog by herself in the rain, the day Luke drove to practice alone for the first time. This freedom is more than “I get to do what I want” it’s the realization that we have autonomy over what we will choose to do with this one precious life.
Will I choose to be kind, thoughtful, gentle? Will I choose to speak up when I see an injustice? Will I choose to give my kids space to make their big mistakes? Will I choose to give my self the space and time to reclaim my own identity as the role of “mom” shifts from CEO to Consultant?
There’s a ton of talk about “freedom” in political circles right now but the truth is freedom isn’t just about “me getting what I want”. It’s about deciding who I want that “me” to be in this wide world of ours. I believe the Spirit of God longs for us to be freely and wholly ourselves in a way that brings goodness and love and peace and joy to the world.
So I wonder, where will your freedom lead you this week?
In peace,
Nora
In the church these RofP tend to be tied to rituals: baptisms, confirmations, weddings, funerals. But out in the world they are a bit different. Fewer rituals but lots of firsts: first day of school, first job, first pay cheque, first car, first love, first heartbreak, first home that doesn’t have you sharing a bathroom with your ever increasingly annoying family. All of it is tied to a growing sense of independence or maybe it’s more than that…maybe it’s freedom.
The idea that we can go where were want, when we want, with whom we want…it’s nothing short of liberating. The first time I remember feeling this acutely was the day I was allowed to ride my two-wheeler to my friend’s house alone for the first time. I felt so incredibly free. There have been moments when I imagined my kids feeling the same way…the day Grace asked if she could walk the dog by herself in the rain, the day Luke drove to practice alone for the first time. This freedom is more than “I get to do what I want” it’s the realization that we have autonomy over what we will choose to do with this one precious life.
Will I choose to be kind, thoughtful, gentle? Will I choose to speak up when I see an injustice? Will I choose to give my kids space to make their big mistakes? Will I choose to give my self the space and time to reclaim my own identity as the role of “mom” shifts from CEO to Consultant?
There’s a ton of talk about “freedom” in political circles right now but the truth is freedom isn’t just about “me getting what I want”. It’s about deciding who I want that “me” to be in this wide world of ours. I believe the Spirit of God longs for us to be freely and wholly ourselves in a way that brings goodness and love and peace and joy to the world.
So I wonder, where will your freedom lead you this week?
In peace,
Nora
#244 - April 6, 2026
“When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established;
what are humans that you are mindful of them, mortals[a] that you care for them?”
~Psalm 8:3-4~
For the last few days, in addition to getting ready for all the excitement that Easter Time holds here at Calvary, I’ve also been mesmerized by another historic thing that’s been happening: the Artemis II flight to the moon. There is so much about this that is grabbing my attention. I am astonished how we are getting real time feedback from the Astronauts about what they’re doing and seeing. I love that they’re snapping photos of the Earth and the moon with their phones as well as a Nikon digital camera (the same brand I use to take photos of Luke’s Volleyball games). It’s amazing to me that everyone seems so calm (I’d be a basket case) and that right at this moment they are 406,000 kilometres from earth and traveling at about 30,000 kilometres per hour. They are explorers in the truest sense of the word. It might be that I’m just a diehard Trekkie…blame my mom…or it could be that this is truly an amazing event for humankind.
They have just surpassed the farthest distance anyone of us has been from Earth and are about 15 minutes away from their planned “fly by” or observation period of the moon. During their live feed they will call down to Earth…or is it up to Earth (my understanding of astro physics is of course non existent but I do know that in space there is no up or down) … and they will point out the things they see. Both the things that they expected to see and things they are surprised by.
But what’s taking my breath away right now isn’t the photos, or the updates, or even the anticipation of the 45 mins that there will be no contact as they swing behind the moon later today, it’s the comments being posted in the live chat. As the live feed rolls, there is a constant stream of comments from people all over the world. Endless comments from a mind boggling number of people, in a phenomenal number of languages.
It is very clear that this world of ours is seeped in conflict. As we mentioned yesterday morning at church, humanity seems incapable of choosing love, mercy, and peace over fear, violence and hate. I also know we all hold our collective breath right now regarding the ongoing war in the Middle East and what tomorrow might hold following an alarming, and yet sadly unsurprising, internet post from the US President on Easter Day. And yet with that chaos so close I sit here in my living room, watching this live stream of comments about a spaceship. While I can’t understand most of them, I assume the majority mirror the ones that I can read…words of support, encouragement and hope and my spirits lift. Astronaut Victor Glover said that “seeing Earth from space has made one thing clear: “We're all one people.” I wonder if that’s the thing that surprised him the most?
I wonder if it might be our prayer today: that we might be surprised by a day when every person who lives on this planet, no matter the language we speak or the way we pray, is recognized as family.
Live long and prosper…I mean…in peace always,
Nora
They have just surpassed the farthest distance anyone of us has been from Earth and are about 15 minutes away from their planned “fly by” or observation period of the moon. During their live feed they will call down to Earth…or is it up to Earth (my understanding of astro physics is of course non existent but I do know that in space there is no up or down) … and they will point out the things they see. Both the things that they expected to see and things they are surprised by.
But what’s taking my breath away right now isn’t the photos, or the updates, or even the anticipation of the 45 mins that there will be no contact as they swing behind the moon later today, it’s the comments being posted in the live chat. As the live feed rolls, there is a constant stream of comments from people all over the world. Endless comments from a mind boggling number of people, in a phenomenal number of languages.
It is very clear that this world of ours is seeped in conflict. As we mentioned yesterday morning at church, humanity seems incapable of choosing love, mercy, and peace over fear, violence and hate. I also know we all hold our collective breath right now regarding the ongoing war in the Middle East and what tomorrow might hold following an alarming, and yet sadly unsurprising, internet post from the US President on Easter Day. And yet with that chaos so close I sit here in my living room, watching this live stream of comments about a spaceship. While I can’t understand most of them, I assume the majority mirror the ones that I can read…words of support, encouragement and hope and my spirits lift. Astronaut Victor Glover said that “seeing Earth from space has made one thing clear: “We're all one people.” I wonder if that’s the thing that surprised him the most?
I wonder if it might be our prayer today: that we might be surprised by a day when every person who lives on this planet, no matter the language we speak or the way we pray, is recognized as family.
Live long and prosper…I mean…in peace always,
Nora
#243 - March 31, 2026
“ for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice
but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.”
~2 Timothy 1:7~
Have you ever found yourself in a pickle that you don’t immediately know how to get out of? I’m sure you have; it happens to everyone from time to time. It’s that moment when you just get kind of, I dunno, stuck. For example, right now as I write this, one of the outdoor cats is in such a pickle. She’s been chased (by a fox) up to the top of the swing set. I’ve hollered and the fox has taken off. The cat, however, is still unsurprisingly, perched safely out of reach on the top beam of the swings. There are a few things going on with her, I’m sure. First her blood pressure is likely insanely high, so she needs to calm down a little. Also, the swing set is tall like really tall, good for out foxing foxes but not so good for getting down off of, so some problem solving is required. And last, but not least, there’s a substantial amount of yard to cross to get from the safety of the swing set to the safety of the deck…all covered by a couple feet of snow…so some courage will be needed in short order.
I watch her pace from one end of the swing, sit down, have what I imagine is “a think”, then pace to the other end. I am deeply tempted to go out and help her. But I am aware that my advice would go unheard, or more accurately un-understood (think Charlie Brown and his Teacher). So all I can really offer is moral support. Keep in mind this is a stray cat that showed up just as the weather started to turn this past fall. We’ve never been able to get too closer to her, Grace is the only one whose been able to pet her. Point is she’s a survivor and clearly not unwise as far as cats go. So, I just stay where I am, watching from a short distance, keeping my eye out for the fox, as Miss Moldy takes her time to figure out her next best steps.
That’s the way it goes sometimes though, isn’t it? We find ourselves in a situation where we really have to take our time to figure out, for ourselves, what the next best step is. I’ve been there personally and it’s hard. As a parent, I’ve seen my kids there…which is even harder. It’s a challenge to not jump in and try to fix everything for them, or give sage advice, direct them to do what I think they should do. Standing back, watching them figure it out, it’s hard. But when they do…well, it’s the greatest feeling in the world.
I am the first one who will admit to wishing God was more like a co-dependant parent … rushing in, fixing everything for us, scooping us out of harm’s way and tucking us safe, sound, and unscathed, into our beds. But that’s not the way it goes. God, it would seem, is more like a trusting parent, one who is confident enough to give us the space and time we need to solve our own problems. It’s not that God abandons us, far from it, there is wisdom offered, support given, unwavering love constantly flowing our way, everything we need to learn and grow, and evolve.
For our part, I guess we need to be a little like the cat. First, we must take a break and let our blood pressure come down, then we have to do some problem solving, and then, we need to dig deep and find the courage to take that next step. And I know, without a doubt, that God is deeply apart of each of those moments.
When Miss M finally found her way back to earth, I cheered. When she curled up in her adopted house, I made sure there was fresh food and water. By all accounts she had a good night’s sleep and was at the door this morning looking smug. I know that there is no guarantee the fox won’t come back just as there’s no assurance all hardship for us is past and gone. But we are given a promise that makes me feel safe. It is that in all things, God is there, close by, cheering us on, loving us, shedding light on our path, joyfully welcoming us home. May you feel God’s strong and abiding presence with you no matter your level of “pickleness” today.
In peace always,
Nora
I watch her pace from one end of the swing, sit down, have what I imagine is “a think”, then pace to the other end. I am deeply tempted to go out and help her. But I am aware that my advice would go unheard, or more accurately un-understood (think Charlie Brown and his Teacher). So all I can really offer is moral support. Keep in mind this is a stray cat that showed up just as the weather started to turn this past fall. We’ve never been able to get too closer to her, Grace is the only one whose been able to pet her. Point is she’s a survivor and clearly not unwise as far as cats go. So, I just stay where I am, watching from a short distance, keeping my eye out for the fox, as Miss Moldy takes her time to figure out her next best steps.
That’s the way it goes sometimes though, isn’t it? We find ourselves in a situation where we really have to take our time to figure out, for ourselves, what the next best step is. I’ve been there personally and it’s hard. As a parent, I’ve seen my kids there…which is even harder. It’s a challenge to not jump in and try to fix everything for them, or give sage advice, direct them to do what I think they should do. Standing back, watching them figure it out, it’s hard. But when they do…well, it’s the greatest feeling in the world.
I am the first one who will admit to wishing God was more like a co-dependant parent … rushing in, fixing everything for us, scooping us out of harm’s way and tucking us safe, sound, and unscathed, into our beds. But that’s not the way it goes. God, it would seem, is more like a trusting parent, one who is confident enough to give us the space and time we need to solve our own problems. It’s not that God abandons us, far from it, there is wisdom offered, support given, unwavering love constantly flowing our way, everything we need to learn and grow, and evolve.
For our part, I guess we need to be a little like the cat. First, we must take a break and let our blood pressure come down, then we have to do some problem solving, and then, we need to dig deep and find the courage to take that next step. And I know, without a doubt, that God is deeply apart of each of those moments.
When Miss M finally found her way back to earth, I cheered. When she curled up in her adopted house, I made sure there was fresh food and water. By all accounts she had a good night’s sleep and was at the door this morning looking smug. I know that there is no guarantee the fox won’t come back just as there’s no assurance all hardship for us is past and gone. But we are given a promise that makes me feel safe. It is that in all things, God is there, close by, cheering us on, loving us, shedding light on our path, joyfully welcoming us home. May you feel God’s strong and abiding presence with you no matter your level of “pickleness” today.
In peace always,
Nora
#242 - March 24, 2026
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness”
~Galatians 5:22~
What’s that Connie Kaldor Song…something about Spring in the Prairies…hold on I’m going to go look it up… k found it … “Spring in the prairies comes like a surprise. One minute there’s snow on the ground the next there’s sun in your eyes. Winter stays so long, seems like it always has been. Ain’t it nice see that green and feel that warm wind?” Ahhhh, such perfection from our much-loved CK not to mention how true. Last week as I wrote to you it was Winter and today as I write I find that Spring Sun is in my eyes!
Ok I know, I’m getting us ahead of ourselves. Even though the solstice has passed and I can hear the water dripping outside my window, one look is enough to tell me we’re not quite out of the wintery woods yet. The ground is still covered in snow, the forecast looks (second thought, don’t look at the forecast). Then again, I saw a crow earlier this week and this morning there was a goose standing in the middle of our frozen slough. He looked a bit perplexed but still it was a goose! The sun certainly feels warmer, the outdoor cats sunning themselves is proof of that, and when I drove to curling the other night, it was still light out. All these things point to the truth that the time of change is upon us and I for one am here for it…even if the change comes slow.
The thing is I feel like we could all use a bit of “greening” right about now. Things have felt pretty heavy, bleak, and uncertain…but in a few weeks the outside world is going to show us what it looks like to start over. Even if we get another foot of snow (yeah, sorry, I looked at the forecast), it’ll be ok. Every ounce of moisture right now is a good thing even if it’s white! And as the snow melts, the earth softens, the roots dig deep, the branches reach high, and the birds start to sing maybe, just maybe we humans will follow suit.
Maybe we’ll soften a little too. Maybe all of us, from those sitting reading this letter to those in the highest positions of global and political power, will soften a little. Maybe as the sun brightens, we will all make a bit more room for kindness to take root. Maybe a tune will find its way to all of our tongues as we make our way through the world. Maybe a seed of joy will sprout in the hardest of hearts and a word of love will be acted out in unexpected ways.
Maybe, just maybe, this Spring that comes like a surprise will surprise the entire planet with some much-needed good change.
May all the Fruits of the Spirit be yours this day,
Nora
Ok I know, I’m getting us ahead of ourselves. Even though the solstice has passed and I can hear the water dripping outside my window, one look is enough to tell me we’re not quite out of the wintery woods yet. The ground is still covered in snow, the forecast looks (second thought, don’t look at the forecast). Then again, I saw a crow earlier this week and this morning there was a goose standing in the middle of our frozen slough. He looked a bit perplexed but still it was a goose! The sun certainly feels warmer, the outdoor cats sunning themselves is proof of that, and when I drove to curling the other night, it was still light out. All these things point to the truth that the time of change is upon us and I for one am here for it…even if the change comes slow.
The thing is I feel like we could all use a bit of “greening” right about now. Things have felt pretty heavy, bleak, and uncertain…but in a few weeks the outside world is going to show us what it looks like to start over. Even if we get another foot of snow (yeah, sorry, I looked at the forecast), it’ll be ok. Every ounce of moisture right now is a good thing even if it’s white! And as the snow melts, the earth softens, the roots dig deep, the branches reach high, and the birds start to sing maybe, just maybe we humans will follow suit.
Maybe we’ll soften a little too. Maybe all of us, from those sitting reading this letter to those in the highest positions of global and political power, will soften a little. Maybe as the sun brightens, we will all make a bit more room for kindness to take root. Maybe a tune will find its way to all of our tongues as we make our way through the world. Maybe a seed of joy will sprout in the hardest of hearts and a word of love will be acted out in unexpected ways.
Maybe, just maybe, this Spring that comes like a surprise will surprise the entire planet with some much-needed good change.
May all the Fruits of the Spirit be yours this day,
Nora
#241 - March 17, 2026
“What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?”
~Mark 8:36~
Losing is not any fun. Admit it, you don’t like it. I know I don’t like it. In fact, I’ll even confess to you here, in writing, that when I was little, I hated losing so much that I would cheat to win. My dad would get home from work, often late, and I would meet him at the door, in my yellow footed Winnie the Pooh pj’s, and ask him if he wanted to play Candyland. He’d always say yes. I would say “great you stay here and I’ll go set it up”. I’d then run to the family room, set up the board and…stack the deck. It’s true, the future Rev. Vedress would count out the cards so that I’d get all the good ones. My dad didn’t stand a chance. Game after game I’d joyfully declare “I win again!!”
At some point he caught on to what was happening and just before we rolled the dice on a new game, he said, “I think I’ll just shuffle this deck”. I, of course, melted down. “But you caaaannn’tttt!” I wailed. When he asked why, I answered, “Because then I won’t win!”. I’m sure he offered me some sage words at the time about the importance of not cheating to win and so on, but all I remember is that from then on, I didn’t always win at Candyland. I didn’t always lose either.
The message that we are inundated with from the world is that winning is the only respectable outcome. We hear this from the most basic advertisements to the latest superhero movie, to the occasional coach or teammate, to the highest seats of political power where the word loser is tossed around as the worst of the insults. And I’m not for a second going to try to convince you that I like losing. I didn’t when I was 5 and I still don’t. Even worse I hate watching my kids struggle or lose at something. I, like every parent, just want to see them work hard and enjoy the fruits of their labour. I want to see them smiling, and laughing, and winning. But the truth is, losing is not only an inevitable part of life, it’s an important part of life.
This weekend at a volleyball tournament I watched as our team didn’t win every game. They were struggling and they were not pleased about it. But here’s what I have come to believe about losing. Yes, winning is great, but beyond feeling good there’s nothing much gained from winning. It’s easy. And if you win all the time, it becomes rather meaningless. Losing, on the other hand, has something to teach us. We learn resilience, we learn resolve, we learn acceptance, we learn determination, we learn how strong we really are, we learn what we really want and how hard we are willing to work to get it. And at the end of the day, we learn what kind of people we are. And when that hard fought for win finally does come, it tastes much sweeter.
Jesus once posed the question: what good is it if you win all the things but lose yourself in the process? It’s a great question. Is winning really that important? Is winning the thing that will show the world who we really are? My prayer today is that, win or lose, we all hold fast to our true selves: That we are sons and daughters of the living God who longs for us to be kind and generous above all things, who is with us when we succeed, but who is very much with us when we lose as well assuring us that there is no need to stack the deck, not in Candyland or anything else.
In peace,
Nora
At some point he caught on to what was happening and just before we rolled the dice on a new game, he said, “I think I’ll just shuffle this deck”. I, of course, melted down. “But you caaaannn’tttt!” I wailed. When he asked why, I answered, “Because then I won’t win!”. I’m sure he offered me some sage words at the time about the importance of not cheating to win and so on, but all I remember is that from then on, I didn’t always win at Candyland. I didn’t always lose either.
The message that we are inundated with from the world is that winning is the only respectable outcome. We hear this from the most basic advertisements to the latest superhero movie, to the occasional coach or teammate, to the highest seats of political power where the word loser is tossed around as the worst of the insults. And I’m not for a second going to try to convince you that I like losing. I didn’t when I was 5 and I still don’t. Even worse I hate watching my kids struggle or lose at something. I, like every parent, just want to see them work hard and enjoy the fruits of their labour. I want to see them smiling, and laughing, and winning. But the truth is, losing is not only an inevitable part of life, it’s an important part of life.
This weekend at a volleyball tournament I watched as our team didn’t win every game. They were struggling and they were not pleased about it. But here’s what I have come to believe about losing. Yes, winning is great, but beyond feeling good there’s nothing much gained from winning. It’s easy. And if you win all the time, it becomes rather meaningless. Losing, on the other hand, has something to teach us. We learn resilience, we learn resolve, we learn acceptance, we learn determination, we learn how strong we really are, we learn what we really want and how hard we are willing to work to get it. And at the end of the day, we learn what kind of people we are. And when that hard fought for win finally does come, it tastes much sweeter.
Jesus once posed the question: what good is it if you win all the things but lose yourself in the process? It’s a great question. Is winning really that important? Is winning the thing that will show the world who we really are? My prayer today is that, win or lose, we all hold fast to our true selves: That we are sons and daughters of the living God who longs for us to be kind and generous above all things, who is with us when we succeed, but who is very much with us when we lose as well assuring us that there is no need to stack the deck, not in Candyland or anything else.
In peace,
Nora
#240 - March 10, 2026
“so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another."
~Romans 12:5~
On Monday of this week a friend texted me “we should get our nails done on Thursday”. “Ok, I responded…why?” (I’m not one who tends to pay too much attention to my nails). “You’re insane she said…I’ll make appointments”. Turns out my friends are more on the ball than I am and Thursday evening after work I found myself sitting with two dear friends and my daughter at the salon. We got our nails done, we chatted, we laughed, we relaxed, and when one of the technicians asked if we had a special event coming up they all declared “YES!! She’s PA’s Citizen of the Year!” Sitting there enjoying the excitement of my friends, I started to let myself get excited too as I thought how truly wonderful it is to be a part of a community.
The last few months I’ve been doing quite a bit of reflecting. Thinking over 25 years of ministry, 22 years of marriage, 19 years of parenting, 50 years of life…and the one thing that keeps coming up over and over for me are the people. When Paul says that we, who are many, are one Body in Christ he is saying something simple but incredibly powerful. He’s saying that we belong to each other. We belong to each other. Let that sink in for a moment.
Belonging is one of the most life changing experiences a person can have. When we feel we belong, our mental health is better, our physical health is stronger, our emotional and spiritual health is more grounded. This community we have been given, that we have fostered and cared for, is a gift. This sense of belonging that we have, it makes us stronger. It means that when things are hard, we have others to hold us up, and when there’s something worth celebrating, we have others to tell us “let’s get our nails done!”
Week after week I sit down and think of each of you and this community we have built through Calvary. How, through these letters, we are connected; how the events that are listed in the announcements below keep us connected; how the prayers we lift when we gather for worship either in person or online like keep us connected; how the volunteering we each do, either through the church or beyond it keep us connected; I think of the notes some of you send back that feed my heart, and the wisdom you share with each other that feeds my faith and how these actions of yours keeps us connected. Some of us haven’t even met in person and yet I feel connected to you. This simply must be the work of the Spirit, this connection and the gift of belonging that it empowers us to hold. I pray it fills your hearts up as it fills up mine.
Thank you for being a part of this community, thanks for inviting others into it, thanks for everything you do to make the world better, to make the people in your life feel they have a safe place where they belong. It’s truly an honour to share this journey with you all.
In peace,
Nora
The last few months I’ve been doing quite a bit of reflecting. Thinking over 25 years of ministry, 22 years of marriage, 19 years of parenting, 50 years of life…and the one thing that keeps coming up over and over for me are the people. When Paul says that we, who are many, are one Body in Christ he is saying something simple but incredibly powerful. He’s saying that we belong to each other. We belong to each other. Let that sink in for a moment.
Belonging is one of the most life changing experiences a person can have. When we feel we belong, our mental health is better, our physical health is stronger, our emotional and spiritual health is more grounded. This community we have been given, that we have fostered and cared for, is a gift. This sense of belonging that we have, it makes us stronger. It means that when things are hard, we have others to hold us up, and when there’s something worth celebrating, we have others to tell us “let’s get our nails done!”
Week after week I sit down and think of each of you and this community we have built through Calvary. How, through these letters, we are connected; how the events that are listed in the announcements below keep us connected; how the prayers we lift when we gather for worship either in person or online like keep us connected; how the volunteering we each do, either through the church or beyond it keep us connected; I think of the notes some of you send back that feed my heart, and the wisdom you share with each other that feeds my faith and how these actions of yours keeps us connected. Some of us haven’t even met in person and yet I feel connected to you. This simply must be the work of the Spirit, this connection and the gift of belonging that it empowers us to hold. I pray it fills your hearts up as it fills up mine.
Thank you for being a part of this community, thanks for inviting others into it, thanks for everything you do to make the world better, to make the people in your life feel they have a safe place where they belong. It’s truly an honour to share this journey with you all.
In peace,
Nora
#239 - March 2, 2026
“Blessed are the Peacemakers, for they will be called Children of God”
~Matthew 5:9~
I’m struggling with the letter this week. It might be because I’ve been sick and am not 100% back to my clear-headed, witty self…I’m more of a foggy, blurry-edged version of me at the moment. My kids find it somewhat entertaining, but I suspect you’d find it annoying at best. I have a feeling, however, that even if I was feeling well, I think I’d be having a hard time figuring out what to say today.
We all woke up Sunday morning to hear that a new war had broken out as US and Israeli forces launched an attack on Iranian nuclear targets. While I will not be going into the details here, I am not well versed in any of the politics on this matter, I do feel I need to give space to this collective “holding of breath” that I feel we’re all doing. Those big questions hang in the air right now: How bad will this get? How far will with this reach? What is true? Who do I believe? How bad are those Epstein Files?
It’s never a good thing when wars start. Dropping bombs are never in God’s greater plan. There is no such thing as a “holy war”. I promise that the death of children is never the answer. Then, as I sat doomscrolling, my kids came bursting into the room. They were laughing, doing this silly dance that they know always makes me laugh. They knew nothing of the new bombs, they just knew I wasn’t feeling great and had decided to make me laugh (they also wanted to sweet talk me into buying Chinese food for supper…it worked if you’re wondering).
And there I sat, the phone in my hand, frozen on the latest news headline update, my heart full of love as I laughed at the two goofs I get to claim as my kids, dancing without a care in the world. How is it possible that the world can be like this? Filled with such horrid and tragic things on the one hand, and on the other filled with such pure delight? I have no idea how we are to hold both these things without feeling either at a loss or totally shut off from the rest of the world.
Then I found this, a piece Kate Bowler wrote called “A Blessing for Holding Both”
We all woke up Sunday morning to hear that a new war had broken out as US and Israeli forces launched an attack on Iranian nuclear targets. While I will not be going into the details here, I am not well versed in any of the politics on this matter, I do feel I need to give space to this collective “holding of breath” that I feel we’re all doing. Those big questions hang in the air right now: How bad will this get? How far will with this reach? What is true? Who do I believe? How bad are those Epstein Files?
It’s never a good thing when wars start. Dropping bombs are never in God’s greater plan. There is no such thing as a “holy war”. I promise that the death of children is never the answer. Then, as I sat doomscrolling, my kids came bursting into the room. They were laughing, doing this silly dance that they know always makes me laugh. They knew nothing of the new bombs, they just knew I wasn’t feeling great and had decided to make me laugh (they also wanted to sweet talk me into buying Chinese food for supper…it worked if you’re wondering).
And there I sat, the phone in my hand, frozen on the latest news headline update, my heart full of love as I laughed at the two goofs I get to claim as my kids, dancing without a care in the world. How is it possible that the world can be like this? Filled with such horrid and tragic things on the one hand, and on the other filled with such pure delight? I have no idea how we are to hold both these things without feeling either at a loss or totally shut off from the rest of the world.
Then I found this, a piece Kate Bowler wrote called “A Blessing for Holding Both”
When life insists on being too many things at once--
beautiful and unbearable, working and unraveling--
Bless you who say yes to what is good,
and still name the ache that refuses to leave.
May you stop demanding clarity from a day like this,
and learn the courage of holding both.
For this, too, is living.
Not choosing one truth,
but standing faithfully in the and.
beautiful and unbearable, working and unraveling--
Bless you who say yes to what is good,
and still name the ache that refuses to leave.
May you stop demanding clarity from a day like this,
and learn the courage of holding both.
For this, too, is living.
Not choosing one truth,
but standing faithfully in the and.
So let’s you and I stand faithfully in the and…
Be peace in this world my friends,
Nora
Be peace in this world my friends,
Nora
#238 - February 23, 2026
“You have taken note of my journey through life,
caught each of my tears in Your bottle. Each one recorded in Your book”
~Psalm 56:8~
I spent this past weekend in a gym. I would love to tell you I was there to work out myself but let’s be honest… I’m not the athlete in the family. I was “just” there to cheer on the Prince Albert U18 Volleyball team. Our youngest has played this sport with this club for the last 5 years. Fell in love with it during Covid and has never really looked back. There have been a few bumps along the way of course. Loss of coaches, a few injuries, some intense emotional and psychological hurdles to overcome. There have been great shots and missed ones. There have been wins and losses. There have been moments of laughter on the court and some righteous anger. There have been long drives home where we excitedly replay every moment and ones where the only sound were the sniffles that come from heartbroken, frustrated tears.
Over the years I have also learned that there are a lot of jobs to do when you’re the parent of an athlete. There are coolers to pack, and fundraising to help with, there are hotels to book (and pay for), and many hours to log in the car to and from practice and games. For the last few years, my main job has been to take photos. This is not because I’m any good at taking photos, I am not…not at all. But I found that my heartrate would get so high watching games that I had to do something that would keep me somewhat distracted. It’s kind of like when you cover your eyes with your hands while watching a scary movie. You see only parts through your fingers and for whatever reason that seems to help. So, I watch a lot of these games through my camera lens.
Over time this has given me a completely different perspective because after the last game is played, after the kids and parents have all gone home and the venue has been swept up, I start going through photos. I get to see the faces of these kids in freeze frame: the joy, the surprise, the triumph, the disappointment. I have photos of them jumping higher and hitting a ball harder than anything I’ve ever seen. I have them mid stride heading to celebrate a teammate’s shot or to offer assurances that they’ll get the next one. I have images of relief after a game has been won and gut-wrenching disappointment when it’s lost. The spectrum of emotion is vast. Such is life, I suppose.
We read in the Bible that God is with us through every step of this journey. It fills my heart and mind with such comfort knowing that our God is there for the highs and is present in the lows. But it also says that God keeps every tear in a bottle and records each moment in a book. This morning, I find myself wondering why? What’s the point in it? Maybe it’s simply for posterity or maybe it’s more than that. Maybe in the same way my photos catch random moments in time, God does the same, in God’s own way. Maybe it’s so we know that what we’ve gone through hasn’t been in vain. And maybe it’s because one day we’ll be given the chance to look back over this life and see how far we’ve come, how much we’ve experienced, measure how many tears of joy and sorrow we’ve shed, take note of those who shared the journey with us, and know, without a doubt, each one was blessed by the presence and love of God.
In peace,
Nora
Over the years I have also learned that there are a lot of jobs to do when you’re the parent of an athlete. There are coolers to pack, and fundraising to help with, there are hotels to book (and pay for), and many hours to log in the car to and from practice and games. For the last few years, my main job has been to take photos. This is not because I’m any good at taking photos, I am not…not at all. But I found that my heartrate would get so high watching games that I had to do something that would keep me somewhat distracted. It’s kind of like when you cover your eyes with your hands while watching a scary movie. You see only parts through your fingers and for whatever reason that seems to help. So, I watch a lot of these games through my camera lens.
Over time this has given me a completely different perspective because after the last game is played, after the kids and parents have all gone home and the venue has been swept up, I start going through photos. I get to see the faces of these kids in freeze frame: the joy, the surprise, the triumph, the disappointment. I have photos of them jumping higher and hitting a ball harder than anything I’ve ever seen. I have them mid stride heading to celebrate a teammate’s shot or to offer assurances that they’ll get the next one. I have images of relief after a game has been won and gut-wrenching disappointment when it’s lost. The spectrum of emotion is vast. Such is life, I suppose.
We read in the Bible that God is with us through every step of this journey. It fills my heart and mind with such comfort knowing that our God is there for the highs and is present in the lows. But it also says that God keeps every tear in a bottle and records each moment in a book. This morning, I find myself wondering why? What’s the point in it? Maybe it’s simply for posterity or maybe it’s more than that. Maybe in the same way my photos catch random moments in time, God does the same, in God’s own way. Maybe it’s so we know that what we’ve gone through hasn’t been in vain. And maybe it’s because one day we’ll be given the chance to look back over this life and see how far we’ve come, how much we’ve experienced, measure how many tears of joy and sorrow we’ve shed, take note of those who shared the journey with us, and know, without a doubt, each one was blessed by the presence and love of God.
In peace,
Nora
#237 - February 17, 2026
Therefore confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, so that you may be healed.
The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective.
~James 5:16~
When I was a kid Shrove Tuesday was one of my all-time favourite days. After school my family would head over to St. Mark’s Anglican Church in Niagara, a stunning place that was founded in 1792. Each year (probably since 1792) they would hold a pancake supper for the entire town. For some reason I was asked one year to give the blessing. So, in typical Nora fashion, I decided to sing: “For food in the world where many walk in hunger, for faith in a world where many walk in fear, for friends in a world where many walk alone, we give Thee humble thanks O Lord”. In my memory it was a hit. After the blessing we would fill our plates with pancakes, sausages, and way too much local maple syrup.
It was such a fun evening but to be honest beyond the fact that pancakes for supper felt luxurious I had no idea what the big deal was. I mean I loved it, was happy we did it, but I hadn’t the foggiest why we did it. Which made me wonder 1. Are YOU having pancakes for supper tonight and if so 2. Do you know WHY you are?
The word Shrove comes from the word shrive, which means “receiving absolution after confession”. For the early Christians this meant that before Lent began on Ash Wednesday (which is tomorrow for anyone keeping track) they would go to church on Shrove Tuesday to confess their sins. That night the family would gather and enjoy one more meal of rich food, using up all the eggs and butter, before the Lenten time of fasting.
There’s so much that I like about this tradition. I like that it has lingered for centuries and I like how it varies depending on where and who we are. In some places Shrove Tuesday is an extravagant affair and one day I would love to witness a Mardi Gras parade in person. In other places it’s a community meal in the church hall. For some it’s a quick and easy supper at home. Either way, this celebration is a moment where we are called to pause before the serious season of Lent. We are asked to Confess our Sins, to take stalk of where we are at in our journey of faith, to turn our hearts to God in prayer, and, the best part, where we are invited to celebrate. After all it is nothing but a gift to know that in turning to God in honest prayer we will open our hearts, minds, and spirits, to healing.
So this evening as you mix your batter and sizzle those sausages, offer your confession…and then as you pour the syrup over it all, give thanks to God.
In peace,
Nora
It was such a fun evening but to be honest beyond the fact that pancakes for supper felt luxurious I had no idea what the big deal was. I mean I loved it, was happy we did it, but I hadn’t the foggiest why we did it. Which made me wonder 1. Are YOU having pancakes for supper tonight and if so 2. Do you know WHY you are?
The word Shrove comes from the word shrive, which means “receiving absolution after confession”. For the early Christians this meant that before Lent began on Ash Wednesday (which is tomorrow for anyone keeping track) they would go to church on Shrove Tuesday to confess their sins. That night the family would gather and enjoy one more meal of rich food, using up all the eggs and butter, before the Lenten time of fasting.
There’s so much that I like about this tradition. I like that it has lingered for centuries and I like how it varies depending on where and who we are. In some places Shrove Tuesday is an extravagant affair and one day I would love to witness a Mardi Gras parade in person. In other places it’s a community meal in the church hall. For some it’s a quick and easy supper at home. Either way, this celebration is a moment where we are called to pause before the serious season of Lent. We are asked to Confess our Sins, to take stalk of where we are at in our journey of faith, to turn our hearts to God in prayer, and, the best part, where we are invited to celebrate. After all it is nothing but a gift to know that in turning to God in honest prayer we will open our hearts, minds, and spirits, to healing.
So this evening as you mix your batter and sizzle those sausages, offer your confession…and then as you pour the syrup over it all, give thanks to God.
In peace,
Nora
#236 - February 9, 2026
Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger,
and whoever believes in me shall never thirst.
~John 6:35~
This past Sunday, as the choir was wrapping up their rehearsal, they started singing a new song. It really should not have caught me by surprise since I knew that they’ve started working their way through the new hymn book. Like we literally just had a meeting about this. But as I stood in the Narthex visiting before worship the melody of this new song floated over to me. It was the tune that got my attention, but it was the words that hooked my heart:
“To Your table we come hungry, thirsting for what is good and true.
You alone can satisfy us; our deepest need is new life in You.
Strength in weakness, life through death,
Christ’s own body, in this wine and bread;
we gather broken, both young and old,
but in Your mercy, through love, You make us whole.”
You alone can satisfy us; our deepest need is new life in You.
Strength in weakness, life through death,
Christ’s own body, in this wine and bread;
we gather broken, both young and old,
but in Your mercy, through love, You make us whole.”
In our United Church tradition, we tend to not have Communion all that often. Some denominations share it every Sunday, others, like ours, once a month or so. I was told years ago that it was done this way so it would feel special, more sacred (although my mother told me it was more to do with the fact that it made the service too long and folks didn’t like that). Either way I know no different, and so I’ve never spent too much time thinking or worrying about it. But singing those words yesterday I had this overwhelming sense of the power of the Sacrament and what happens when we gather at God’s table.
Each one of us, as we make our way to the front of the sanctuary, as we hold out our hands and accept the bread and the cup, we are saying to God that we long for our lives to be grounded in faith. Not one of us comes to that meal perfect, we all bring our own forms of brokenness. Maybe you bring grief, or anger, or guilt. Maybe you bring doubt, or pain, or loneliness. The things that break us are endless, the questions and worries we carry legion. What I find such hope in is that we are never asked to do anything other than bring all of this brokenness with us.
Jesus does not ask us to go away and get clean, or fixed, or sorted out, before we dine at his table. Quite the contrary. Jesus wants us to come hungry and thirsting for goodness, he wants to make space for those things we see as weakness because through his grace and love they become our strengths. And when we leave that table and head back out into the world, we carry with us the truth that God’s love has made us whole.
March 8th is the next time we will share this holy meal together at Calvary. You will hear the choir sing the new hymn, you’ll probably see me shed a tear or two, and together we will feast at God’s Table. I hope you will gather up all your beautiful broken parts and join us.
In peace
Nora
Each one of us, as we make our way to the front of the sanctuary, as we hold out our hands and accept the bread and the cup, we are saying to God that we long for our lives to be grounded in faith. Not one of us comes to that meal perfect, we all bring our own forms of brokenness. Maybe you bring grief, or anger, or guilt. Maybe you bring doubt, or pain, or loneliness. The things that break us are endless, the questions and worries we carry legion. What I find such hope in is that we are never asked to do anything other than bring all of this brokenness with us.
Jesus does not ask us to go away and get clean, or fixed, or sorted out, before we dine at his table. Quite the contrary. Jesus wants us to come hungry and thirsting for goodness, he wants to make space for those things we see as weakness because through his grace and love they become our strengths. And when we leave that table and head back out into the world, we carry with us the truth that God’s love has made us whole.
March 8th is the next time we will share this holy meal together at Calvary. You will hear the choir sing the new hymn, you’ll probably see me shed a tear or two, and together we will feast at God’s Table. I hope you will gather up all your beautiful broken parts and join us.
In peace
Nora
#235 - February 2, 2026
“Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word,
for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
a light for revelation to the gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”
~Luke 2:29-32~
“Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word,
for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
a light for revelation to the gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”
~Luke 2:29-32~
I was driving one of the kids to school this morning and it was a bit rough (they were tired, I was tired). About halfway down the road, they started digging in their book bag. “Did you forget something?” (I sighed…they sighed). “Yes, but it’s fine I can manage without it.” I pointed out that we weren’t late and were in no rush and that going back was not going to affect the day but not going back might. We turned and that’s when I saw it…the sunrise. It greeted us with all the amber glory that only a sunrise in the winter can offer. I smiled…felt a little less tired. The kid got their stuff…seemed slightly less tired.
When I got home (again) I learned that today, February 2nd, is known as Candlemas. To be honest I’ve never paid any attention to this Christian Holiday, I literally had to look it up to see what it was all about. Turns out this is the 40th day after Christmas and marks the moment that the holy family travelled from Bethlehem to Jerusalem in order for Mary’s purification and Jesus’ presentation at the temple.
Mary would have bathed in ritual water, a sacrifice of two turtledoves (rich families would have given a lamb) is offered, and then they are greeted by two prophets: Simeon and Anna. This part of the story I do know. It’s one of my favourites actually…you can read all about it in Luke 2:22-40. Basically, these two ancient humans greet the brand-new human Jesus. They are surprised by him, delight in him, and rejoice that through him the light of God has at last been revealed to the world.
There are moments when God’s light catches us by surprise…like we’ve been heading in the wrong direction and when we finally turn around, we are greeted, unexpected, by this incredible sunrise. Joy fills our heart and we know that, for right now, all is well. There are other moments when we must intentionally seek the light out or when we must be the ones to reflect it to the world, all in an attempt to make things a little less dark for ourselves and those around us.
This, it would seem, is what Candlemas is for. This is the day where we bless the candles that we will use in the coming year to make things a little less dark. I figure these will sometimes be literal candles, sometimes metaphorical ones, but always a way to shatter whatever darkness might seep in around us. And so, in honour of my new favourite church holiday, I invite you to pause, run and grab a candle, light it and pray:
When I got home (again) I learned that today, February 2nd, is known as Candlemas. To be honest I’ve never paid any attention to this Christian Holiday, I literally had to look it up to see what it was all about. Turns out this is the 40th day after Christmas and marks the moment that the holy family travelled from Bethlehem to Jerusalem in order for Mary’s purification and Jesus’ presentation at the temple.
Mary would have bathed in ritual water, a sacrifice of two turtledoves (rich families would have given a lamb) is offered, and then they are greeted by two prophets: Simeon and Anna. This part of the story I do know. It’s one of my favourites actually…you can read all about it in Luke 2:22-40. Basically, these two ancient humans greet the brand-new human Jesus. They are surprised by him, delight in him, and rejoice that through him the light of God has at last been revealed to the world.
There are moments when God’s light catches us by surprise…like we’ve been heading in the wrong direction and when we finally turn around, we are greeted, unexpected, by this incredible sunrise. Joy fills our heart and we know that, for right now, all is well. There are other moments when we must intentionally seek the light out or when we must be the ones to reflect it to the world, all in an attempt to make things a little less dark for ourselves and those around us.
This, it would seem, is what Candlemas is for. This is the day where we bless the candles that we will use in the coming year to make things a little less dark. I figure these will sometimes be literal candles, sometimes metaphorical ones, but always a way to shatter whatever darkness might seep in around us. And so, in honour of my new favourite church holiday, I invite you to pause, run and grab a candle, light it and pray:
God of Surprising light, we pray for Your blessing this day.
In those moments when we are lost in the dark,
send Your light to guide us.
In those moments when we see the darkness of others,
help us reflect Your light that they might be surprised by Your love and grace.
Bless those things in our lives that literally bring us light
…candles, lamps, our iPhone flashlights and whatnot.
Bless those things that lighten our spirits
…friendship, music, poetry, laughter.
And no matter how hard things get,
no matter how dark things might feel,
help us keep our hearts and minds fixed on You,
that we might rejoice in Your presence with us and find peace in our souls.
In those moments when we are lost in the dark,
send Your light to guide us.
In those moments when we see the darkness of others,
help us reflect Your light that they might be surprised by Your love and grace.
Bless those things in our lives that literally bring us light
…candles, lamps, our iPhone flashlights and whatnot.
Bless those things that lighten our spirits
…friendship, music, poetry, laughter.
And no matter how hard things get,
no matter how dark things might feel,
help us keep our hearts and minds fixed on You,
that we might rejoice in Your presence with us and find peace in our souls.
Be well my friends,
Nora
Nora
#234 - January 27, 2026
Do not remember the former things or consider the things of old.
I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth; do you not perceive it?
~Isaiah 43:18-19~
Do not remember the former things or consider the things of old.
I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth; do you not perceive it?
~Isaiah 43:18-19~
Last week Luke dropped his phone in a parking lot…it then promptly got run over. Now any of you who have a teen in your lives will know what kind of impact a lost phone can have on a person. Luke doesn’t “do” social media so that wasn’t a problem, but music and podcasts are very important. Flash forward a week and we found ourselves at the phone store where we learned that I was due for a new phone (a free one!) and Luke decided he was self assured enough to inherit my old phone (it’s mint coloured so requires a certain level of confidence). Two hours later (why does arranging new tech always take so much time?) we left the store feeling quite happy. He had his music back and I could once again track my youngest while he was driving and text him “it would be wise to empty the dishwasher before I get home from work today”.
All was well with the world again…until I went to use my phone. It turns out that I have reached the age and stage of my life where I hate getting a new phone. I hate having to remember passwords, I hate having to relearn where everything is, I hate having to sort through too many apps and re-log into my email and figure out how to turn on “share my location” feature. After a significant amount of time, I did what any self respecting 51 (almost) year old human would do…I handed the new phone to my daughter and said “get this working please” and walked away.
There are people in the world who like new things. Perhaps you are one of them. Maybe you love going on a trip to someplace you’ve never been before. Maybe you relish meeting new people. Maybe you get downright giddy with an updated piece of technology. When I was younger, I loved these things too…but the older I get the more I find myself leaning towards things I know and trust. It’s a comfort thing I suppose. Like a little human who loves to have the same story read to them repeatedly, I like it when things are familiar and predictable.
Unfortunately, I watched a documentary this weekend that said it’s important for our brain health to do new things. It’s literally good for us to learn how to play the piano at 51, to take up curling at 65, accept the challenge of a new language at 80. And there’s this moment when you will know your brain is working hard and making new connections…that is getting strong and healthier, it’s when you throw your hands up in frustration and toss the new phone to the 19-year-old in the room, or swear under your breath because you can’t figure something out. Basically, the moment when you want to quit is the very moment you know you’re pushing your brain in a good way and you should try to keep going.
The Bible has a number of places where it tells us of new things springing forth. A new song will form in our mouths, a new understanding will root itself in our minds, a new experience of the Holy One will come to us…as our Creed says “God has created and is creating”. So, while on the one hand I feel annoyed by this (I really do not want to learn a new language at this stage in the game) on the other hand I am hopeful. Because what we do have, as we take on new things in this life, is the option to ask for help, to invite others along for the journey, and to ponder where God fits into it all. Maybe that’s the part I will choose to lean into and trust this week, that even while new things are constantly on the horizon, stirring things up and frustrating us to no end, God’s presence will never change. God is as sure and constant as the sunrise.
Be well my friends,
Nora
All was well with the world again…until I went to use my phone. It turns out that I have reached the age and stage of my life where I hate getting a new phone. I hate having to remember passwords, I hate having to relearn where everything is, I hate having to sort through too many apps and re-log into my email and figure out how to turn on “share my location” feature. After a significant amount of time, I did what any self respecting 51 (almost) year old human would do…I handed the new phone to my daughter and said “get this working please” and walked away.
There are people in the world who like new things. Perhaps you are one of them. Maybe you love going on a trip to someplace you’ve never been before. Maybe you relish meeting new people. Maybe you get downright giddy with an updated piece of technology. When I was younger, I loved these things too…but the older I get the more I find myself leaning towards things I know and trust. It’s a comfort thing I suppose. Like a little human who loves to have the same story read to them repeatedly, I like it when things are familiar and predictable.
Unfortunately, I watched a documentary this weekend that said it’s important for our brain health to do new things. It’s literally good for us to learn how to play the piano at 51, to take up curling at 65, accept the challenge of a new language at 80. And there’s this moment when you will know your brain is working hard and making new connections…that is getting strong and healthier, it’s when you throw your hands up in frustration and toss the new phone to the 19-year-old in the room, or swear under your breath because you can’t figure something out. Basically, the moment when you want to quit is the very moment you know you’re pushing your brain in a good way and you should try to keep going.
The Bible has a number of places where it tells us of new things springing forth. A new song will form in our mouths, a new understanding will root itself in our minds, a new experience of the Holy One will come to us…as our Creed says “God has created and is creating”. So, while on the one hand I feel annoyed by this (I really do not want to learn a new language at this stage in the game) on the other hand I am hopeful. Because what we do have, as we take on new things in this life, is the option to ask for help, to invite others along for the journey, and to ponder where God fits into it all. Maybe that’s the part I will choose to lean into and trust this week, that even while new things are constantly on the horizon, stirring things up and frustrating us to no end, God’s presence will never change. God is as sure and constant as the sunrise.
Be well my friends,
Nora
#233 - January 20, 2026
And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod,
they left for their own country by another road.
~Matthew 2:12~
I bought myself a book for Christmas. It’s called “A Beautiful Year: 52 Meditations on faith, wisdom, and perseverance”. Written by the amazing Diana Butler Bass I assumed that it would offer me the small bites of faith that most of us need most of the time. You know, nothing too heavy or anything, just a nice little way to start my week. A spiritual “Pick Me Up”, if you will. Turns out I should have paid closer attention to the subtitle of the book because rather than a soft, gentle, nugget of spirituality what I’m getting is a solid as rock, deeply rooted, truth speaking slice of Fierce, Faith filled, SPIRITUALITY. This is more than a bite sized pick me up…this is a three-course meal presented in a page and a half of a beautifully bound book. This week’s title for example is “Imperial Treachery”.
To be honest, I’d rather not read about imperial treachery first thing on a Monday morning. I want to read about nice uplifting things. I suspect that’s likely what you want from these letters as well, something nice and uplifting. It’s truly what I want to offer you. It is my hope that on Tuesday afternoon you’ll get a notification saying the pastoral letter has arrived at your inbox, and you’ll smile and wonder, “what sort of story will she have for us this week?”
I suppose what I think I want most of the time is for my spiritual input to feel like God is patting me on the head saying, “There, there Nora, it’s all going to be ok”. As if I’m yelling from my room in the dark declaring that there are monsters under my bed and all I need is for my Heavenly Parent to show up, take a look, check the closet while they’re at it. Then, after assuring me that everything is as it should be, tucks me back in with a loving smile and says “let’s just leave the night light on till you fall asleep”.
But that’s not what this book is offering me, not yet anyway. Maybe it’s because this book starts with Epiphany and Epiphany is all about learning how to walk in the dark. How to exist in a world with despot leaders. How to find the courage to do the right thing in the face of great fear and uncertainty. Butler Bass reminds us that the story of Epiphany is one that points out “peace on earth terrifies and threatens those who have prospered under the old order. Corrupt kings will lie and murder-do anything- to stop the possibility of God’s dream made manifest in the world” (pg 83).
The question Epiphany poses is easy: “What do we do when Herod sits on the throne?” The answer, I’m afraid is not. I promise next week I’ll tell you how the kittens are doing, maybe chat about the chickadees and how they make me happy (while they drive the kittens nuts), but today I feel Buttler Bass’s answer is important for us to hear. She says we must “When Herod sits on the throne we must be like the Magi. We must discern deceit and trust the truth” that God’s “love is here, born into the world” and together we will make our way through the dark guided by star light, guided by love.
In peace,
Nora
To be honest, I’d rather not read about imperial treachery first thing on a Monday morning. I want to read about nice uplifting things. I suspect that’s likely what you want from these letters as well, something nice and uplifting. It’s truly what I want to offer you. It is my hope that on Tuesday afternoon you’ll get a notification saying the pastoral letter has arrived at your inbox, and you’ll smile and wonder, “what sort of story will she have for us this week?”
I suppose what I think I want most of the time is for my spiritual input to feel like God is patting me on the head saying, “There, there Nora, it’s all going to be ok”. As if I’m yelling from my room in the dark declaring that there are monsters under my bed and all I need is for my Heavenly Parent to show up, take a look, check the closet while they’re at it. Then, after assuring me that everything is as it should be, tucks me back in with a loving smile and says “let’s just leave the night light on till you fall asleep”.
But that’s not what this book is offering me, not yet anyway. Maybe it’s because this book starts with Epiphany and Epiphany is all about learning how to walk in the dark. How to exist in a world with despot leaders. How to find the courage to do the right thing in the face of great fear and uncertainty. Butler Bass reminds us that the story of Epiphany is one that points out “peace on earth terrifies and threatens those who have prospered under the old order. Corrupt kings will lie and murder-do anything- to stop the possibility of God’s dream made manifest in the world” (pg 83).
The question Epiphany poses is easy: “What do we do when Herod sits on the throne?” The answer, I’m afraid is not. I promise next week I’ll tell you how the kittens are doing, maybe chat about the chickadees and how they make me happy (while they drive the kittens nuts), but today I feel Buttler Bass’s answer is important for us to hear. She says we must “When Herod sits on the throne we must be like the Magi. We must discern deceit and trust the truth” that God’s “love is here, born into the world” and together we will make our way through the dark guided by star light, guided by love.
In peace,
Nora
#232 - January 13th, 2026
“Set your minds on the things that are above, not on the things that are on earth,”
~Colossians 3:2~
It’s +2 outside right now…it’s kind of nice but I must admit, there’s something about it that feels…off. By the middle of January, we should be at that grumbling and complaining stage of winter. We should be lamenting about how cold it is, cursing the wind, and finding a delightful camaraderie in how miserable we all feel while we exclaim “whelp at least there aren’t any mosquitos!” or “It might be cold but at least it’s dry!” But we can’t do any of that, because it’s +2, sunny and melting.
This morning began as it usually does, the alarm went off, my husband stirred with a “yelp” (he broke his foot last week so there’s lots of “yelping” in our house right now), I got up, made sure the kids were up, fed the dog and the cats (who are all still around and all quite plump and mostly friendly with each other). Then after I drank my tea, and watched my youngest drive down the road to school and my oldest sit at her desk trying to wrap her mind around First Year Calculus, I checked the weather. And just like that, I felt a pang of nostalgia.
This is the kind of day that, not so long ago, would have summoned my kids outside. They would have begged to stay home from school, I would have relented, and then they would have gotten all bundled up for their newest adventure. They would have headed out to the woods by our house and spent hours in their created world “The Land of Snow”. To be fair the “woods” is merely a stand of trees by the drive and “The Land of Snow” existed in about a 15 foot by 10 foot clearing in the middle of those trees. But to a 5- and 7-year-old it may as well have been Neverland. Many hours later they’d return, cheeks ruddy, eyes alive, toques long gone, mittens and socks soaking wet. This kind of day would have been perfect to stoke their imaginations and inspire their dreams.
I’m not really sure what I’m getting at with this story…except to say as we inch our way into a new year I long for moments like that for all of us. Moments where we can turn our backs on the to do lists, the news, the broken bones and broken hearts, and open instead to unbridled imagination. Perhaps 2026 can be a year like that. A year where we grumble a bit less, lean on each other a bit more, play like we used to when we were 5 and 7.
Maybe it all needs to start today…maybe it can start with a snowman…there’s an idea! Everyone drop everything and go make a snowman!
In peace,
Nora
This morning began as it usually does, the alarm went off, my husband stirred with a “yelp” (he broke his foot last week so there’s lots of “yelping” in our house right now), I got up, made sure the kids were up, fed the dog and the cats (who are all still around and all quite plump and mostly friendly with each other). Then after I drank my tea, and watched my youngest drive down the road to school and my oldest sit at her desk trying to wrap her mind around First Year Calculus, I checked the weather. And just like that, I felt a pang of nostalgia.
This is the kind of day that, not so long ago, would have summoned my kids outside. They would have begged to stay home from school, I would have relented, and then they would have gotten all bundled up for their newest adventure. They would have headed out to the woods by our house and spent hours in their created world “The Land of Snow”. To be fair the “woods” is merely a stand of trees by the drive and “The Land of Snow” existed in about a 15 foot by 10 foot clearing in the middle of those trees. But to a 5- and 7-year-old it may as well have been Neverland. Many hours later they’d return, cheeks ruddy, eyes alive, toques long gone, mittens and socks soaking wet. This kind of day would have been perfect to stoke their imaginations and inspire their dreams.
I’m not really sure what I’m getting at with this story…except to say as we inch our way into a new year I long for moments like that for all of us. Moments where we can turn our backs on the to do lists, the news, the broken bones and broken hearts, and open instead to unbridled imagination. Perhaps 2026 can be a year like that. A year where we grumble a bit less, lean on each other a bit more, play like we used to when we were 5 and 7.
Maybe it all needs to start today…maybe it can start with a snowman…there’s an idea! Everyone drop everything and go make a snowman!
In peace,
Nora
#231 - January 6th, 2026
Then the star appeared again, the same star they had seen in the eastern skies.
It led them on until it hovered over the place of the child. They could hardly contain themselves:
They were in the right place! They had arrived at the right time!
~From The Message Version of Matthew 2:9-10~
It’s been a few weeks now since I’ve sat down to write to you all. I do hope that your Christmastide has been gentle, warm, and life giving. I pray that those moments that were hard or stirred up feelings of grief were met with understanding and compassion. I pray that there were moments of joy and laughter too that filled your cup. Most of all I pray that you each could claim one moment where this season felt set apart for you, sacred in a way that a random Wednesday in any other month doesn’t quite feel.
Today, with the arrival of Epiphany, we begin a new season in the Church Year. This is the day where we recall the story of the Magi, the Star they followed, and the Wisdom they tapped into. Their Epiphany or insight empowered them to find the One they were looking for in an unexpected place and then directed them to return home by a new way (and consequently avoid the dreaded King Herod and likely their own demise). Ultimately this is the day we celebrate those moments of sudden revelation that change everything.
The funny thing about Epiphanies, however, is that we never know when they’ll arrive. We can’t force them, control them, or will them to happen. We simply must be open to them when they come. I also suggest that we don’t judge ourselves when we feel we’ve missed one or point out to others when we feel they are missing theirs. Epiphanies will arrive when they are meant to, no sooner, no later.
All I wish to do today is offer you a word of blessing for the Journey that is yours and the stars that guide your way.
Today, with the arrival of Epiphany, we begin a new season in the Church Year. This is the day where we recall the story of the Magi, the Star they followed, and the Wisdom they tapped into. Their Epiphany or insight empowered them to find the One they were looking for in an unexpected place and then directed them to return home by a new way (and consequently avoid the dreaded King Herod and likely their own demise). Ultimately this is the day we celebrate those moments of sudden revelation that change everything.
The funny thing about Epiphanies, however, is that we never know when they’ll arrive. We can’t force them, control them, or will them to happen. We simply must be open to them when they come. I also suggest that we don’t judge ourselves when we feel we’ve missed one or point out to others when we feel they are missing theirs. Epiphanies will arrive when they are meant to, no sooner, no later.
All I wish to do today is offer you a word of blessing for the Journey that is yours and the stars that guide your way.
For Those Who Have Far to Travel
written by Jan Richardson
If you could see the journey whole
you might never undertake it;
might never dare the first step
that propels you from the place you have known
toward the place you know not.
Call it one of the mercies of the road:
that we see it only by stages as it opens before us,
as it comes into our keeping
step by single step.
There is nothing for it but to go
and by our going take the vows the pilgrim takes:
to be faithful to the next step;
to rely on more than the map;
to heed the signposts of intuition and dream;
to follow the star that only you will recognize;
to keep an open eye for the wonders that attend the path;
to press on beyond distractions, beyond fatigue,
beyond what would tempt you from the way.
There are vows that only you will know;
the secret promises for your particular path
and the new ones you will need to make
when the road is revealed by turns you could not have foreseen.
Keep them, break them, make them again:
each promise becomes part of the path;
each choice creates the road that will take you to the place
where at last you will kneel to offer the gift most needed
— the gift that only you can give--
before turning to go home by another way.
written by Jan Richardson
If you could see the journey whole
you might never undertake it;
might never dare the first step
that propels you from the place you have known
toward the place you know not.
Call it one of the mercies of the road:
that we see it only by stages as it opens before us,
as it comes into our keeping
step by single step.
There is nothing for it but to go
and by our going take the vows the pilgrim takes:
to be faithful to the next step;
to rely on more than the map;
to heed the signposts of intuition and dream;
to follow the star that only you will recognize;
to keep an open eye for the wonders that attend the path;
to press on beyond distractions, beyond fatigue,
beyond what would tempt you from the way.
There are vows that only you will know;
the secret promises for your particular path
and the new ones you will need to make
when the road is revealed by turns you could not have foreseen.
Keep them, break them, make them again:
each promise becomes part of the path;
each choice creates the road that will take you to the place
where at last you will kneel to offer the gift most needed
— the gift that only you can give--
before turning to go home by another way.
Blessed Epiphany my friends,
Nora
Nora