Friday Tidings

Typically, the church choir would file in from the entrance behind the pipe organ, along the side of the sanctuary. But today, they were marching in two by two down the front aisle. Their voices were raised in bold song as they began the morning service with a joyous flair. We all sat in our pews—listening, watching, and waiting for them to reach their seats in the choir loft. I was probably ten, and listening to the music was the best part of church for me. I looked at those around me. Dad had let me sit next to him on the aisle, so I had a view of all the choir robes swishing past me. Then I saw little KB. He was only three, but he’d never spoken a word. For a little boy, his silence was something we all noticed. This was long before any extensive autism research, or much understanding of what KB’s mind was capable of. To me, he was just a quiet boy with thick eyeglasses. He stayed close to his parents. But on this morning, he had somehow escaped his father’s pew and followed ...

You know how it goes… You’re thumbing through an old photo album, searching for a certain picture, and then another one stops you. This photo dates back to 2011, taken at a gathering in our amazing Joyce community. At first, it was just a simple idea—a kid’s party to celebrate the end of the school year. But then we decided to invite the whole community. We asked musicians to entertain, grilled burgers and hot dogs, and packed huge ice chests full of pop. Everyone brought something to share—salads and scrumptious desserts. Even the sunshine showed up—which, around here, can be iffy. As busy as we all were back then (and still are), we took an afternoon to set up, enjoy, and clean up. Everyone pitched in. It was worth it—for this photo of us all together, and for a heart full of memories. As I look at these familiar, younger faces, I smile back—because this is what community looks like. We may be older now, but the heart of who we are is still the same.  

I could have picked a different place to spell out WELCOME . But apparently, I chose a deer path. They can’t read, of course—but they sure can kick rocks. That’s okay. I just go out and fix the deer-kicked stones. And somehow, that reminds me: Be welcoming. The world needs it. Even when my welcome gets trampled or scattered, I just keep spelling it out again. Because maybe it’s the welcome someone needs today.

It was just another hot summer day as my husband and I entertained our granddaughter. After checking off all the fun activities we had planned, we ran out of ideas. Then Papa suggested taking the dog for a walk to the fishing pond up the road. It was shady there and not far from home. I buckled Miss R into her stroller while Papa grabbed the dog’s leash. I watched them disappear down the gravel driveway toward the pond. I busied myself with a few things around the house, then realized they hadn’t returned. Concerned, I laced up my shoes and jogged to the pond. No Papa. No dog. No stroller with Miss R. Thinking they might have headed to the park a few blocks away, I jogged there. But the area was deserted—the hot sun had driven everyone indoors. So I pulled out my cell phone and called. When Miss R answered, I knew Papa had been up to something. “Papa got me two scoops of ice cream!” she exclaimed. They  had  gone to the pond, but when the heat became unbearable, Papa declared ...

Meet Dino—the delightfully smiling creature peering over a residential fence on a busy street. Throughout the year’s holidays, Dino always sports the appropriate hat. Today, he’s celebrating our nation’s independence. And we are an independent nation—born from a deep desire for freedom and a commitment to preserving it. But we’re also deeply dependent on one another. I needed dozens of teachers to educate me, and even more healthcare workers to keep me healthy. I’ve relied on bankers, maintenance workers, shopkeepers, and countless others working to support daily life. Even as I depend on others, I have the freedom to choose so much of what defines me. So do you—and that’s what we celebrate today. Dino’s smile never fades. May our independence never fade, either.