Peter’s Blog

Ever since Sunday the word honour has been on everyone's lips.  The trouble is the good word is leaving a bad taste.  A Kingston jury returned its verdict on the weekend and found a father and mother and their son, all Montrealers of middle-eastern origin, guilty of the unthinkable - killing their own kin for dishonouring the family name.  Three teenage girls and their step-mother were killed for what would seem to most of us to be pretty normal rebellious adolescent behaviour, but it was all done in the name of honour.  

The tension in the tone of the conversations has been heightened by an interview which appeared in the Montreal media over the weekend in which relatives of the convicted speaking from back home in the Middle-East condoned such behaviour in order to honour the family name.  It is an unthinkable use of the word honour.  

The word has been leaving such a bad taste that I am almost afraid we may lose the word - a good word - and that it will come to be used only to describe such heinous crimes. 

The strange thing is that while all of this was playing out in a Kingston courtroom over the last month several of us were witness to the true meaning of honour quietly being upheld day after day in a Toronto hospital room where two daughters took turns waiting and watching alongside their dying mother.   Mother was barely conscious and they knew the end was near but when it lingered their love wavered not. 

Several times on my visits I made the mistake of commending the daughters for their faithfulness which didn't suddenly appear when mother was taken to the hospital, but they would hear none of it.  "Anyone who had a mother like ours would do the same and more," they would quickly counter.  The trouble is you couldn't do much more.  

These two daughters have been at it for years for both their mother and their father who died almost two years ago.  We saw it month after month when one of them would be alongside their father at the meeting of our Deacons.  Their late father was a Life Deacon and the two daughters took turns serving terms on the board just to get their father there and back.  Along the way the two became excellent Deacons in their own right which was hardly a surprise to their father or anyone else. 

It was the high sense of honour displayed by these two women that enabled their mother and father to remain in their home as long as they did and that same honour ensured that when the time came for their mom and dad to move, they would not suffer for a lack of care or love.  These two daughters were the source of all the love any parent could hope for. 

A week ago, when I stood in the pulpit at Yorkminster Park to conduct their mother's funeral, the girls had no choice but to sit and listen quietly as I sought to honour their love and care.  There would be no stopping me to qualify their gift of service by commending their parents.  What's more, this time I quoted directly from the Ten Commandments.  "Honour your father and your mother so that you may live long in the land."    

Ironically, someone being interviewed on a television network yesterday tried to argue it was this same commandment that drove the convicted Kingston felons to kill their three daughters.  I don't buy it for a minute because the very next commandment is "Thou shalt not murder!"   Don't go blaming the Ten Commandments or before you know we won't have a leg to stand on in this world.

As for me, I don't need to look any further than Margaret and Ellen Branscombe to know the meaning of honour.  May their lives be long in the land!

There are times when God may use even a typo to open our eyes.  It happened to me recently week when I was typing out verses from the Bible for someone to read at a funeral I was to conduct. 

The passage I was typing was from John 14, which is one of my favourite readings at a funeral.  "Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.  Believe in God, believe also in me.  In my Father's House are many rooms..." 

I was in a hurry with what seemed like a thousand things to do before the end of the day.  My mind wandered as my fingers raced across the keyboard engaged in the mindless task of simply typing out what was before them.  Emails and voice messages to respond to, visits to make, meetings to attend, and sermons to prepare and too many other things to remember let along make mention of. 

Soon enough the task was done and within seconds I had emailed the reading to the reader and I was on to my next task.  The eye-opening mistake wouldn't catch up with me until the day of the funeral, but when it did I would be in trouble.  I would leave out just one letter and yet it wold come to speak volumes. 

It was the letter 'E.'  As the reader came to the verse infected with my typo, his volume seemed to increase as if perhaps he was trying to raise the dead, but as it turned out it was the Lord trying to raise up the dead man in me.  "PEACE I leave with you;" the reader said quoting the words of Jesus, "My P_ACE I give unto you - Not as the world gives give I unto you."  

Thanks to my typo, Peace became Pace.  I don't know if anyone else picked up on it, but I almost laughed and I almost cried, because the typo had picked up on me. 

Jesus did give us his pace - His life was marked by a daily rhythm of active service and prayerful withdrawal.  He knew when to go fast and he knew how to slow down and find perspective in meditation and prayer.  Jesus paced himself.    

Sometimes the key to finding the peace of Christ is in rediscovering the pace of Christ.  Peace or pace.  Either way it is The Word of the Lord.  And I may never read it the same.  Thanks be to God!

Peace,

Peter 

When a Canadian thinks of Pittsburgh, they may think first of Sydney Crosby or Mario Lemieux, two of Canada's hockey icons.  Those who know something of Pittsburgh's great history may have images of a dirty steel town where the coal dust and industrial smoke could darken the noonday sky and leave the city under a cloud through much of the year.   I remember my grandfather talking of his business trips to Pittsburgh and having to pack three shirts for each day to combat the soot.    

Good news!  Pittsburgh is now clean and pristine, and what's more, there are icons and sacred spaces to awaken a level of wonder beyond the reach and realm of even hockey's greatest saints and what is more, once you get outside the downtown core you find a city where church steeples and towers still point the pedestrian to fairer worlds on high. 

Reservations are now being taken for our Pilgrimage of Sacred Spaces to Pittsburgh Pennsylvania from April 30 to May 3.  Pittsburgh is home to some of the most breathtaking churches and sacred spaces in North America. 

Ralph Adams Cram, one of the greatest church architects of 20th century America built three magnificent churches for three different denominations only a few short blocks apart.  One of these, East Liberty Presbyterian, he considered his spiritual masterpiece.  Across town, the famous 'Bake Oven Church,' is registered as a national landmark and was built in the 19th century by Henry Hobson Richardson whose designs gave birth to an architectural movement bearing his name. 

The frescos, mosaics and stained glass throughout Pittsburgh's churches are exquisite displays of the wealth and artistry of an earlier age.  Indeed the names of the giants of commerce and industry like Frick, Heinz, and Mellon all had an impact on the splendour of Pittsburgh's sacred spaces, yet ironically some of these very churches now stand in impoverished neighbourhoods offering up their hospitality and service for the poor.  We will visit churches where great movements were born such as World Wide Communion Sunday and Alcoholics' Anonymous and we will eat lunch in the seminary where the Rev. Fred Rogers was ordained to a children's television ministry as Mr. Rogers, a man who blessed our children and heightened our sense of neighbourliness. 

While I will lead the devotional side of the pilgrimage with readings and prayers and contemplative silence, our minds and imaginations will be inspired by the remarkable curator, Corey Keeble, of the Royal Ontario Museum.  Corey has been doing his homework on the Pittsburgh churches for months.  Corey has a way of looking at stained glass and bringing the characters to life as he transports us in his mind back to the studios of the great artists like William Comfort Tiffany whose work is generously evident in a number of Pittsburgh churches. But what's more, Corey has a way of lifting our spirits to heaven as he explores the glories of God in glass. 

William Maddox, our own Director of Music and one of this country's foremost organists, will be leading the musical side of our pilgrimage.  William has a way of  making the smallest organs come to life so there is no telling what he might do when he sits down behind a handful of Aeolian-Skinner organs considered the 'Stradivarius' when it comes to the king of instruments not to mention a Canadian Casavant Freres organ and Pittsburgh's great Rudolph von Beckerath organ.  Rest assured William will be at his finest. 

Along the way we will sing some of the great hymns and enjoy the company of our fellow pilgrims.  With some of the characters who have already registered you can be sure of much laughter and joy along the way.   

Of course there will be much more involved in our journey.  We will be staying at the centrally located Hampton Inn in the university district of Oakland. We will also have opportunity to take in the view of the city offered from the funicular railway as it climbs the Duquesne Incline and enjoy a meal from the heights of Mt. Washington.  At some point en route we will no doubt stop and mingle with many fellow Canadians visiting the Grove City Outlet Mall. 

Unfortunately, the Pittsburgh Pirates baseball team will be on the road that week, but who knows - maybe - just maybe - the Maple Leafs will be locked up with the Penguins in the second or third round of the NHL playoffs as we arrive in town to begin our prayers.  If so, we will all want to pack a second shirt - a Maple Leaf jersey! 

I am not going to suggest we start praying about a sporting event, but the time has come to register for The 2012 Pilgrimage of Sacred Spaces to Pittsburgh.  The price includes 3 night's accommodation, transportation via coach, touring and commentary, three breakfasts, two lunches, and one dinner. 

The price based on  

Double Occupancy is $579 per person

Single Occupancy is $799 per person

To register contact Judy MacDonald at 416-225-8295 or by email at jamac@sympatico.ca 

Years ago when I was serving First Baptist in Montreal a neighbouring Roman Catholic priest came as a guest preacher.  During his sermon he commented appreciatively on the differences and similarities in our worship.  One of the things that struck him most profoundly was that while the ushers in his church collected the offering and then disappeared to hide the money in the vault, we received the offering with the singing of the Doxology, prayed over it and placed it on the altar as part of the worship of God.  Some may note he didn't pick up on the fact we use the word 'Table' rather than 'Altar,' but either way it is the thoughtful spirit of his comment that I am remembering. 

I think it is in this same spirit that in Day Seven of Practicing Extravagant Generosity, Robert Schnase, writes "Stewardship campaigns are not about money, dollars, and budgets but about mission, spiritual growth and relationship to God."  

However, part of me still says, "Come on, get serious."  While it is true this campaign is not about money, dollars and budgets, if a month long focus on the theme of Extravagant Generosity has no impact on the revenues of the church its value should probably be questioned. 

Money and budgets do matter in the life of the church.  Like everyone else, at the end of the month there are bills to pay and obligations to meet.  There are also a lot of good people offering their talents and skills to help us navigate the financial waters without asking for a penny in return, or expecting any gratitude, so let's not pretend they don't matter.  These volunteers range from trained accountants, brokers, financial planners and some extremely wise people who have learned their skill outside the classroom.  They help us with our planning, financial statements, payroll, taxes, and the counting of the offerings.  The job is big and we do have a remarkable employee or two who help in a significant way.  All of this service is being offered because dollars and cents do matter in the life of the church. 

It is rarely a popular job to serve in leadership on the financial side of the church, because when the church wants to focus on proclaiming the good news, these people remind us from time to time that there is a bit of bad news to deal with too.  I can only imagine that working on the financial side probably feels like kitchen duty after a messy meal sometimes. 

I keep thinking of the priest who spoke so appreciatively of the liturgical manner in which we offered our gifts unto God.  He said, "When my church exits with the collection and disappears downstairs to hide it away in the safe, it feels like dirty work, but in your church when you lift it up to God and pray over it and place it on the altar giving becomes a beautiful holy act."

The priest thanked us and said he had learned from us.  Perhaps a stewardship campaign such as Practicing Extravagant Generosity involves little more than learning from some of the simple acts of worship we too easily take for granted. We may need to turn our hearts to the Doxology.  

Robert Shnase encourages us to focus on the mission of the church when we calculate our offerings.  I believe it is by focusing on God's call to be the body of Christ in this world and to do the work of Jesus that, by the power of the Holy Spirit, our eyes and hearts are lifted from the bottom line to the heights of heaven and that everything we do in response and along the way, whether it is cleaning a floor, or counting the offering, or delivering a meal to a bereaved member or flowers to a shut-in, or balancing the books, or cleaning up after Communion, or visiting the sick or preaching a sermon, all becomes God's work and like the offering is lifted up in praise unto God.  Let the blessings flow! 

Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

Peace,

Peter 

A few years back I was looking out from the deck of a cruise ship when a smaller vessel pulled up alongside.  We were in the waters just north of Vancouver Island off the west coast of Canada far removed from any population centre so the boat's sudden appearance caught us off guard and led to great speculation about the reason for the visit. 

Had the approaching boat been docked at a marina it might have attracted significant attention because of its width and breadth, but looking down at it from twelve storeys above on a ship the length of almost three football fields it seemed all but insignificant.  Nonetheless people who saw it approaching couldn't help but wonder if something wasn't wrong.  

For the last several days the news of the sinking of the Costa Concordia off the west coast of Italy has probably used up more ink and newsprint than the massive liner could have taken on board.  However, it is the human cargo that our thoughts have been going out to and our prayers going up for.  There were 4,200 passengers in all, but we have been praying in particular for those still missing and the families of the eleven who died. 

As more details of the story come to light the extent of human error seems almost incomprehensible.  Fortunately the Costa Concordiahit land rather than an iceberg in the middle of the Atlantic making escape and survival much more likely and keeping the loss of life to a minimum.  However, the level of arrogance and pride at the wheel of the ship seemed a match for the maritime tragedy of one hundred years ago.     

For some time to come passengers boarding cruise ships will probably seek some reassurance about the character and skill of the person at the helm of the ship.  Who can blame them?

The boat that pulled up alongside our cruise ship as we moved north of Vancouver Island turned out to be retrieving a local Canadian pilot who had boarded the ship in Vancouver to guide the boat and the international pilots through the treacherous Seymour Narrows on the east coast of Vancouver Island. Though the infamous ripple rocks in the centre of the narrows were blown up fifty-four years ago, cruise ships can still only pass through a few times a day when the tides reach a certain mark.  The knowledge that our ship had been in the best of hands in the worst of places was very reassuring, especially as I look back in light of the events of this week. 

Life is a voyage and it is no less important to be aware of the guiding hands and forces upon us.  When I was young we used to sing a hymn called, Jesus, Saviour Pilot me.  I can't say I haven't found myself singing it again this week.  Even if you don't know the tune you may want to take it with you as a prayer.

Jesus, Saviour, pilot me
Over life's tempestuous sea;
Unknown waves before me roll,
Hiding rock and treacherous shoal.
Chart and compass come from Thee;
Jesus, Saviour, pilot me.

Peace, 

Peter

Robert Schnase begins day four of his devotional book entitled Extravagant Generosity by quoting 1 Timothy 6: 18-19 "Do good, be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share, thus storing up the treasure of a good foundation for the future, so that you may be ready to take hold of the life that really is life." 

We all long for 'real life,' but how do we define it?  For most it would include freedom, love and authenticity.  The letter to Timothy says, "Don't forget generosity."  In fact maybe generosity is the sign that we have found freedom, love and authenticity.  If we can let things go and give generously it is a true indication we have discovered something higher and greater than ourselves in this life. 

The trouble is so much works against generosity.  Robert Schnase names 'debt,' as a major deterrent.  I am convinced he is right. Yesterday I saw an advertisement on television referring to a 'Don't pay a cent event,' in which you could take home a new TV, appliance, furniture and more with no money down and nothing owing for twelve months.  In no time our homes could be full of such things, but we won't have bought happiness.  We will probably end up buying more insurance, changing the locks and installing a security system to protect the things still owned by the bank.  And in the end we always seem to need just one more thing to make us happy.    

Material possessions can be wonderful, but they can so easily get in the way of freedom and generosity.  There is nothing wrong with having a television and computer, but when we have three or four and become convinced we need just one more, or when we no longer have a place to store our latest treasure because the shelves and cupboards are all overflowing. Ironically, as rich as we may appear with all our stuff, we can't afford to be generous,  In fact, we can barely afford to pay the debt owing on all the stuff we have.  It is supposed to make us happy and to make our dreams come true, but if that be so, why do we always seem to need one more thing.

At times most of us have sensed more happiness and joy in the countenance of those who have chosen to live a simpler more unencumbered life.  Strange as it may seem, such joy can cause someone who seems to have everything, to envy the person who is content with next to nothing. 

1 Timothy 6: 18-19 "Do good, be rich in good works, generous, and ready to share, thus storing up the treasure of a good foundation for the future, so that you may be ready to take hold of the life that really is life."

Peace,
Peter  

Imagine a grown man still describing the descent of the maple seed as a twirling single propeller helicopter.  I don't think the author even knew it was a maple seed, but when you are a citizen of the country with the maple leaf in the centre of its flag, and of the city which calls its favourite team the Maple Leafs, you have no excuse not to know which tree the 'helicopter seed' will bring to life.

I also live across the street from Alexander Muir Park named for the author of a song which almost became our national anthem, The Maple Leaf Forever.  In the one hundred and one years our home has stood, her entry has been graced by maples from birth through death to rebirth.  Maples are as much a part of the Canadian fabric as the cedar is for the Lebanese.  Nonetheless, I am not one to stand back and admire the descent of its seed to the ground.  Been there done that, or as Paul said, "When I became a man I put away childish things." 

However, I am the one who has to climb the ladder to clean these pesky seeds out of the eaves before they take root.  I am also the one who is left to sweep them up from the drive or walkway and sometimes they stick to the ground as if they have put roots into the asphalt - and sometimes that is exactly what they have done.  I am also the one who looks up into the maple a month or two after the seeds have fallen and curses at the sight of a second crop getting ready to mess up my yard.

So it is I know how the tree indeed seems completely devoted to ensure that when at the last it falls the maple still will stand and a new generation of autumn artists will take off their shoes to paint the holy ground of the flaming tree that does not burn, and young farmers will trudge through melting snow to gather buckets from her base that her syrup might pleasure pallets near and far, and children will continue to dance in wonderment at the sight of the single blade helicopter seed.

The truth is I envy the author's childlike wonder at the maple key spinning to the ground.  I love the maple and wish I hadn't become so jaded by its seed.  But above all I love Christ and pray to never lose my wonderment for the tree on which he poured out his life to save the world.  The cross too has seeds and many of us look back with gratitude on those who faithfully planted the seeds of God's love in our own hearts.  But the season comes upon us all when we must stand tall like a maple and stretch out our limbs in love and kindness casting forth the Gospel seed again upon the wind of God's Spirit that the barren places, empty churches and broken travellers of this world might be awakened to the grace and love of God in Jesus Christ.

Peace,

On Day Two the writer of Extravagant Generosity reminds us that when birds build a nest it is not for their own comfort, but for the protection, nurture and support of the next generation.  He reflected on his early spring sighting of three different birds collecting twigs for their nests.  One was a Red-Tailed Hawk and my spirit soared at the thought.  Another was a house sparrow which is far more common, yet no less precious to God whose 'eye is on the sparrow.' 

The third bird was a crow and as soon as I saw it, I found myself wishing it wasn't so.  I don't know how many times I have seen all the small birds in the garden giving chase to the crow who has no doubt just stolen from their nest or even killed and destroyed.  I am not a fan of crows.  At their best can't do any better than to sit on the fence and squawk and when they do I find myself looking for the hawk. 

And so it was on day two of Extravagant Generosity I found myself wishing the author, Robert Schnase, hadn't used a crow to illustrate stewardship because I can just imagine that old bird destroying someone else's nest to build his own.  But perhaps Schnase's point is that even the crow doesn't do it for himself.  The crow ways may at times be dark, but his only motive is to help the next generation. 

In my neighbourhood I don't see too many crows, but I have seen a lot of nests fall over the last  year.  Within a few blocks of my house I can count at least five houses that were torn down since early last summer.  The demolished homes were not unsubstantial in size and a few generations ago they comfortably housed families with four or five children.  Ironically, the houses that go up in their place are usually at least twice as large while the number of children in the home is rarely more than two. 

I once had dinner with the late Millard Fuller, founder of Habitat for Humanity.  Over the course of the meal he commented to me on the number of empty lots and freshly demolished houses he had seen in Toronto during his two day stay.  He had been told they were torn down so something bigger and better could be built in their place.  He then asked me a question which has haunted me ever since, "Is it right that we should tear down houses to build bigger ones when there are still so many people without a house to call home?" 

The answer to such things is not always simple and  sometimes I find Fuller's question squawking away at my conscience.  It is not that I have torn down a house to double the size of my home, but I can't say I have resisted the temptation to feather my own nest from time to time for purposes entirely mine.    

Thinking about the crow reminded me of Jesus' Parable of the Unjust Steward found in Luke 16:1-13.  The unjust steward was a bit of a crow himself and yet Jesus found something in his behaviour from which to learn.  The unjust steward stood accused by his master of wasting that which had been entrusted to him and so on the eve of his dismissal he visited everyone who was indebted to the master and offered to cut the debt in half in exchange for immediate payment.  The next day when he was forced out onto the street by his master everyone felt they owed him a favour.  Jesus purpose in telling the story was not to exemplify dishonesty, but to highlight the fact that when the unjust steward realized the end was near he knew what mattered most in life and didn't let anything go to his head or get in his way.

Jesus said, "Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven."  Talk about building nests for others, Millard Fuller had every right to ask what he asked and say what he said.  He was a living example of extravagant generosity.  As for me, I need to renew my focus on what matters most in this life and the next, so as not to be stuck eating crow at the journey's end.

Peace,

During the month of January the congregation at YP is reading through a stewardship devotional by Robert Schnase entitled Extravagant Generosity.   It only involves reading two pages each day, but the problem seems to be getting the ideas out of your head once you have finished.  They are stimulating and provoking in the best sense.

On day one the writer suggests we replace the word stewardship with generosity in the vocabulary of today's church.   It is a move away from the exhausting emphasis on fund-raising to freely respond in gratitude to the wonder of God's love and mercy.  Generosity is a word of grace while stewardship is a word of obligation. 

At one of my previous churches there was a hymn we often sang in place of the Doxology as the offering was being received, "Grant us Lord the grace of giving."  The grace of giving is generosity.  The story of the widow's mite is a reminder of the power of generosity.  No one would ever want to make giving obligatory for someone as poor as that widow who had only a single coin to her name and yet to see her freely offer that coin stopped Jesus in his tracks.  There were many there that day who thought they were worthy of attention because of the large amounts, but Jesus knew it was but a drop in the bucket from their larger accounts whereas the woman's gift was worthy of the gift he had come to offer - his own life on the cross.  St. Paul clearly grasped this call to generosity when he wrote, "No one should give reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver," (2 Corinthians 9:7).   

Generosity is of God and I long to discover it more and more in my own life and for the church to discover it in new ways, but I am not anxious for the church to lose the word stewardship from its vocabulary.  It may be an old world word, as Schnase suggests, and as such, a word our young people can't relate to, but we need some of those old world words to confront the growing sense of entitlement in our culture.  Focussing on the freedom of giving from a generous spirit as a gift of God may inspire some but it may not convict others.  We need both.   

The language of stewardship was also the language of Jesus and it reminds us that the blessings of this life are not just a gift, but also a trust from God.  We may not like to hear it but Jesus said, "From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked," (Luke 12:48). 

The Giving Pledge <http://givingpledge.org/#warren_buffett> developed by Bill and Melinda Gates and Warren Buffet is an effort to invite the rich to commit a majority of their wealth to philanthropy.  When Warren Buffet announced he was giving 99% his wealth to philanthropy it was extravagant generosity by any measure, but the motivation of his gift was a keen sense of stewardship - to whom much is given much shall be expected. 

Generosity or stewardship?  I say both - two sides of the same heart.  "Grant us Lord the grace of giving with a spirit large and free!"  

Epiphany has arrived and it is about time!  All that's left of Christmas at Yorkminster Park would seem to be the remnant of an ice candle along the main walkway into the centre entrance to the church. 

The ice candles - and there must have been a hundred of them - had been formed in the freezers of members of the church,  who simply poured water into a mold and waited for it to become the solid base in which candles could be placed to point the way to Bethlehem as children, parents and grandparents by the hundreds came to see the nativity characters and animals in our park on Christmas Eve. 

It was a wondrous Christmas season at Yorkminster Park with weeks of services and concerts and children everywhere.  Along the way we raised a lot of money for the food bank and the support for the Rev. Karen Robinson and her work with street youth was tremendous.  As we sang and celebrated in anticipation of Christ's coming, and as the choir added the descant to the great carols one might have wished for Christmas to never end. 

Yet twelve days later the one half melted ice candle and the little that's left of the wax and wick would appear to be all that remains of Christmas at Yorkminster Park.  And with temperatures today at 6 degrees Celsius the ice is melting faster than the wax.   By Tuesday all the trees at the church had been  tucked away in boxes for storage in a corner of the crypt.  It's over.

But just when we think it is over we come to Epiphany, the day on the church calendar when the arrival of the Magi is remembered and celebrated, as the first manifestation of Christ to the Gentile world.  Of course in North America we hurry the magi along and get them in and out as quick as  the crowds that come in off the street on the 24th, but we know they came later - and probably much later than just 12 days. 

The first Christmas didn't end so fast and neither should ours.  For Christmas is but the beginning of a new chapter in the story of God's love for this world.   And every time we open our inns and hearts in love to the needs of the world around us, or echo the angel's song of joy and peace we become aware in new ways that Christ is here and now! 

Early this morning I did the craziest thing on my way into the church.  I bent down and relit that one remaining ice candle.  The decorations may all be away, but the light of God's love remains and grows.  Let us take it with us wherever we go.

Welcome to Epiphany! 

Blessings,

Peter