Maybe he shares mine

Is there anything in the world as lovely as

A hound, dainty of foot, and fleet;

Sniffing and dancing and sniffing again, nose stuck on repeat?

Do you think little Jesus had a dog?

Or maybe he shares mine

And maybe he calls her, with a sound just out of my ears' reach,

Every evening when she starts to whine.

Maybe he walks behind us, or a little ahead, 

Throwing invisible sticks 

And she leaps and cavorts at His side while I daydream 

And teaches her invisible tricks.

Maybe he laughs as she stalks through the grass 

And he hides all the bunnies from view

Maybe he brings scents and sounds on the winds

And tells her from where and from who.

Then off they run, for the love of the run,

And love of the night and the chase 

And running for relief to be out of the house 

And the love of the wind in the face.

 

To you and your kin

Pascal and his friend H were chatting about their day.

P: know what M told me today? {M is a big kid in grade 6}

H: what?

P (clearly over the moon): he said I have some skill in soccer.

H: you do! 

P: you do too! And your little brother and sister sure have some skill as goalies.

🥰

Because love, like light, overflows.

M's generous compliment filled Scally's bucket and overflowed to H and his siblings.

When the magi followed that star, and found Bethlehem's child, they saw him, and their hearts and hands overflowed with gifts.

When the sick woman reached out for help, just to touch the edge of Jesus' robe, his love and life overflowed and healed her.

Like a light set on a hill, we can't keep love in. It abounds. It bubbles up and spills over. It flows from one heart to the next.

May we feel it this season - and may we, too, pass it on. 

Merry Christmas, friends.

Xo

Ordinary Gifts on Dec 2

I drove to work in the morning sunshine

Coffee steaming in my cupholder

Kids laughing about something 

Frost-flattened grass dusted with snow 

Roads clear.

I drove home in the December sunset

Western sky alight with gold

Kids laughing about something 

Heated steering wheel warm on my palms

Six swans flying through the blue overhead.

I walked Eevee in the clearest dark

Sky so drenched with moonlight and dotted with stars that I tried to capture it three times before giving up 

Eevee followed her nose, legs twinkling, light feet barely leaving prints.

I'm not just opening presents 

I'm walking among them,

Living in them,

Lit by them, surrounded and filled by them,

Gift upon gift upon gift.

Merry Christmas, friends.

Xo.

By the light of the Menorah

On this first advent post of the year, I bring you a little gift from Hanukkah.

My students were asking about its traditions and meaning, so we looked up the Hanukkah story and I learned something new.

The light in the middle of the menorah, the one that is used to light all the other lights, is called the Servant Light.

The night before he was crucified, Jesus ate with his disciples. Was the table lit with a menorah? And is that why, when they started arguing about which of them was the greatest, he pointed them gently in the other direction?

Kings try to rule over more and more people, he said, be the opposite: lay down your authority. Let those who are leaders become the servants instead. (Luke 22:25-26, my paraphrase)

The Light in the centre of our faith calls us to light one another's candles, meet one another's needs, fill up where another is lacking.

In warming others, we will be warmed; in filling others, we are filled.

Our light is not lost by sharing with others, instead, it lessens the dark and widens the welcome.

Just like he did, and does, our servant light.

Happy holidays, dear friends.

Xo.