In a recent survey completed by older adults in our congregations, many respondents indicated that visiting church services from other faith traditions was of high interest. I think that's great! What are some suggestions? However, I know for myself that visiting churches from other faith traditions would be easier than visiting at least one church that is affiliated with the Christian faith but sees it very differently than myself - Lifegate Church here in Etown. Many of those who espouse book banning, denial of LGBTQ rights and a rejection of black history in our schools are a part of that church community. While I totally disagree with them, I think it is important to know where they come from and try to understand their perspective. But that would be hard!

I think it begins with empathetic listening, a heart that intentionally doesn't judge, and a willingness to see another side.

The author says that Jesus ended a "myth of redemptive violence" with his willing gift of life. I am not sure what that means and could use some help. Is it the idea that you can use violence to redeem those who have been hurt by violence? Kind of an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth response? Does that then point to the use of nonviolence as the preferred response? If so, we have that response modeled by Jesus and others as our template, even if it, in turn, means that our blood may be spilled. How courageous! How loving!

I have never thought of giving as a spiritual practice. I would like to learn more about that. I don’t feel disciplined enough for some spiritual practices but maybe this is something I can do in a more mindful, intentional way.

Certainly we can forgive and pray for those who have wronged us or those who have hurt others. And, as Julie reminds us, we can listen and try to understand the perspectives of those with whom we disagree. But sometimes we also have the opportunity to help them or do something on their behalf such as providing earthquake relief to our enemies in Syria or sending a birthday/anniversary card to a congregation that disagrees with us, maybe even dislikes us. Or helping to rebuild after a war. Our offerings may not always be accepted but if offered in genuine love, I hope they would be acceptable to God.

I confess my guilt in not being able to help in, what seems to me, a meaningful way. When the needs of others seem so great and tear at my heart, I often don't know what to do. I see people in our congregation who actually go the site and serve with Brethren Disaster relief teams or Disaster Child Care. I know I can't physically do this, but I feel guilty that I can't/don't. I pray, I give monetary gifts, but it doesn't seem like . It seems like a band aid and maybe just a way to assuage my guilt. I ask for forgiveness and wisdom to know the answer. But my feelings are so minuscule in importance compared to others' needs.

I remember one of the Advent devotions talking about the lighting of a candle when praying. I have never done that but I am attracted to the use of a visual symbol linked to our prayers. I also never have had ashes placed on my forehead at the beginning of Lent but again, the linking of that symbol to our prayers for forgiveness and a reminder of what God has/can do for us is pretty powerful. Ashes are what is left when we have been purified, what is left when we die, and what can be used to start anew. They can be the sustaining symbol for our Lenten journey, our hope, our re-creation.

As an older person, I find I often need to take a nap sometime in the afternoon. And, thankfully, now I have the time to do so. It always amazes me how fresh and focused I feel afterwards and how restored I then feel to go on with energy for my daily routine.

I don't know that this is slowing down, but I can enter a world of gratitude often when I am driving. I look out at the landscape and see so much to be thankful for in our beautiful world. One of the images I have always enjoyed it that of fresh fallen snow silhouetted against the multitude of tree branches. I like seeing their intricacies, the play of black/brown against a white background. It fills me with wonder and peace. It is kind of like God's scherenschnitte paper cutting - a form of art that I have also always liked very much.

I spent the day humming "Breathe on me, Breath of God" to myself all day after reading this entry. I can't say it was one of my favorite hymns, but I appreciated it anew after reading the words in this context. It speaks of hope, change, the opportunity to start over. And that certainly is a Christmas message!

Two - Whenever I hear O Magnum Mysterium, I go to hushed place of mystery and love and gratitude that only that music can elicit for me. And I can bathe in the awe of the gift of Christmas. Ralph Vaughn Williams', Hodie, does the same but also takes me to a place of praise. I recommend them both.

I like the idea of each of us being like a Christmas tree, adorned with ornaments of the fruits of the spirit. I need a picture or something with those attributes written down so that I can be reminded to focus on one of these in my life each new day in a kind of mindful way.

I appreciated the thought shared in a recent sermon reminding us that God is already with us - Immanuel. Not just coming, but already here. That's reassuring.

I never really realized why those of the Catholic faith lit a candle when entering the sanctuary to pray and I appreciate knowing more about this practice. I really like the idea and the author's daughter's thoughts that this was a place where God both sees and hears prayers. I am going to try this practice in quiet times at home.

Of course, it is all in the memories. Memories of people, memories of experiences, and memories of the love that was felt and shared at the time they were made. It kind of reminds me of the tradition of communion, and Jesus' words, "This do in remembrance of me." Love is kindled again by these traditions and these memories. That's the way I feel when I decorate our Christmas tree. Each ornament was bought to help Fran and I remember a time we had together, or a family member's interests, etc. And together, these memories make up a beautiful symbol of our lives together.

This devotional entry motivated me to call a new neighbor who I hadn't seen in a long time. She had welcomed us warmly when we moved into our new home. I was a little worried about her and am glad I called. She was experiencing serious health problems and had fallen yesterday while trying to decorate. I was able to offer help, but I think most of all, she appreciated talking with someone. I have been trying to find a way to "fit in" and participate in this new community. There are many activities, social activities, lots of game groups and athletic activities, etc. Nothing seemed like a place where I would be comfortable. Lately, however, I have been thinking about volunteering to be a visitor for people who don't have local family or many visitors themselves. Again, today's entry made me think that this was a way I could offer hope and warmth to others.

I've been thinking about hope. It seems to me that hope is a changing of a mind set, a view that somehow something will be different than what it currently is. For me, hope is born out of relationships and talking with one another. Or maybe talking with God. I think we tend to think about providing hope though doing something - maybe giving something, providing a service, etc. And these are okay - IF that is what is needed and wanted. But something forced or given without thought to someone else is not hope. Hope is what is in their mind, in their heart, through their eyes. And that's where the talking and relationships come in. When we truly take the time, as Jim says, to listen with empathy, to reflect back what is we have heard, to try to understand from another's perspective, then we can respond by providing (if possible) what they need, maybe something tangible, but just as often only a word, an affirmation, an understanding ear or a prayer. I've also been thinking about the song we sing at Advent - Kindle a Flame. It doesn't say "ignite" a flame, but kindle - start a flame. And then provide the nourishment for the flame to grow. We often never know how a single word, smile, deed, or presence kindles hope for others. Just knowing we are there can be a start.

I'm kind of interested in thinking about the dormant period that precedes the springing forth of new life. A definition of dormancy defines it as a period of inactivity like being in a cocoon. But I wonder about that cocoon. Something must be happening in there for the caterpillar to change into a butterfly. Maybe it's not so inactive after all. What precipitates the change? Who precipitates the change? How does God work in us to prepare us for spring, for new life, new purpose?

I think another element of not forgetting someone is really knowing them. It can be easy to forget someone who is just an acquaintance, and much harder to forget someone you have invested time into getting to know. I think, in a way, that's what we all want. To be truly known - our goodness, our faults, our identifies, our values, etc. And then, in addition to being known, to be loved because of who we are, despite who we are, just because we are God's child. When you take the time, as God does, to really know someone - there's no way you can forget them!

My husband and I are getting ready to move. At our stage of life, it means a lot of downsizing. We've never had a garage sale, I've never sold stuff on Ebay - after 54 years of life together, 37 in this house, there's a lot to get rid of. It's hard - lots of choices to make and things to say good-bye to. I hate this, but it has been nice in one way. As we find an item and think about whether to keep it or let it go, we have had a chance to enjoy many, many memories that otherwise may not have come to mind. One of the hardest times was when I came upon the music I used to sing with preschool and elementary age children in church, Sunday School, camp, nursery school and day care. It's just old music, but I poured over these books week after week, selecting songs, thinking about presentation, singing them with the enthusiastic and joyous voices and energetic movement of young children. It was wonderful. But that time is probably over for me. There was lots to remember and lots to celebrate before I put them in a box to throw away. Those times were a big part of who I am, and now they are over. I remember them well, and I hope some of the children I was with do too. This is the only time I've cried so far and, if truth be told, later that week, I came back and "rescued" some of them. Soon we will be in a new home in a new community. I am sure it will be nice, but I am apprehensive. I don't know what my life will be like there. I won't know people. Sometimes I feel like I will just fade into oblivion. I think that might be easy to do when you are older like me. How comforting the words of the scripture passage today, "Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you"