Blog - Hope

About two years back, the State of Minnesota paid for our home to made more accessible by way of a track-run hoyer lift for my son…and for my back, as it turns out, because Karl’s way heavier now at age 18 than when the accident happened at age 3, I will tell you what.

Beauty, joy, self-care, and passion.

Two weeks ago, I began a new position at Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary as an adjunct professor.

Six years ago yesterday, my Mama died.

This last month has brimmed with all sorts of action: travels, presentations, writing deadlines, appointments, and meetings.

When someone is honestly 55% right, that’s very good and there’s no use wrangling. And if someone is 60% right, it’s wonderful, it’s great luck, and let him thank God. But what’s to be said about 75% right? Wise people say this is suspicious. Well, and what about 100% right? Whoever say he’s 100% right is a fanatic, a thug, and the worst kind of rascal.

Every year I say it, and so I will say it again this year:

Gosh it’s been a humdinger of a month.

Epiphany.

Oh little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by
Yet in thy dark streets shineth, the everlasting light
The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.
So today is Christmas Day.

Luke 1:39-56 

It happened when it was the furthest thing from my mind.

“Der Pfarrer und die Gläubigen sollten sich nicht einbilden, dass sie eine religiöse Gesellschaft sind, die sich um bestimmte Themen herum dreht, sondern sie leben in der Welt. Wir brauchen doch – nach meiner alten Formulierung – die Bibel und die Zeitung.”

We are a people called and gathered and washed.

I have a dear friend, up here in Two Harbors.

Here’s the two-fold gist of this Ash Wednesday/Gearing-Up-For-Lent blog:

Dietrich Bonhoeffer was born 112 years ago today on February 4, 1906.

Every day, I get to drive my girl back and forth to her high school in Duluth.

We’ve all asked ourselves, when hearing of some moment of historical courage, “What would I have done?”

I was already late and well on my way to my late husband’s memorial service before I realized that the urn with his ashes still sat on the kitchen table.