I have been dreaming of written words. A few nights ago I dreamed that I was in college and had to take a writing class from the recent former president of the U.S. Before the class began, he told the students that we would need to plan the total number of letters we would need for the year and we would need to actually purchase them. I thought that was both a ridiculous task, and an impossible one. On a small piece of paper taken from the notebook that I keep in my purse, I simply wrote out a c major scale. 

Last night I dreamed of several blocks of text that I needed to move around on the electronic page. The print was so small I could not read the words which made the task really impossible. If you can't read the text, how do you know where a block should be moved? I do wonder what words were there.  Perhaps they will be revealed later.   

   

This morning I received the following post. Ahh... words I can read and enjoy.  Let's all be kind to ourselves today. Surely that kindness will spill over in all sorts of lovely ways.  

   

If we're not careful, we can spend whole chunks of our lives wishing to be elsewhere, instead of letting gratitude guide us back to where we are now, to all that's worthy of love right here. I have always been a victim of the kind of thinking that I call "grass is greener mentality." Instead of sinking deeply into the present moment of where I find myself and embracing all the beauty and inevitable flaws, I focus on some other, better time to come in the future. The result, of course, is that I miss out on the abundance that's almost always available to me here and now...

Who's to say we can't find solid ground wherever we are, even if we sense that this place is not permanent? Why not absorb what we can and grow where we are, letting ourselves be fed by a life that might at times feel less than ideal? 

~ James Crews, Kindness Will Save the World, as posted in First Sip 

image: San Leandro, June 2023 

I Come to the Garden, but Not Alone

 I have just returned from leading a Bible study in a small skilled nursing community. The people who gather with me have always amazed me with their faith and tenacity, and I am very grateful for the devoted, steady staff. The residents are frail, but they are usually in a good spirits, and they truly seem to believe me when I say that God is with them. Therefore, they have the confidence to greet me warmly, and I, too, am happy to see them. Today there were no mask restrictions, and as I was leaving I shook hands with almost everyone. Honestly, the freedom to approach people seemed like a miracle, and I think we all needed this little bit of normalcy. Yes, I used hand sanitizer, but even that seemed like a blessing, as if I was standing at the baptismal font.  As I said my goodbyes, John, whose words often come out garbled, said quite clearly, "Just remember, my burden is light," as he raised his hand for a high five. There I was, celebrating with Jesus.  

The photograph that is attached is a picture of a Showy Milkweed. I found it growing in a small, but lively, well tended pollinator garden on the grounds of First Congregational Church in Palo Alto. I was able to sit in the garden for a bit during a break from our conference annual gathering this past weekend. How very grateful I was for that patch of refuge of scent and color as I watched a variety of bees do their work.  

Two very different gardens, but gardens just the same. No masks needed, blessed be. As I pulled into my driveway, I thought my own garden never looked better.  

     

image: Palo Alto, June 2023