More Easter meditations- these from Steve Bell

I so appreciate Steve Bell, a singer/songwriter from Canada. I met him at a very small concert in the Chicago suburbs years ago on a college visiting trip with my son.  There were just a handful of us it seemed, and he told great stories and played great guitar and sang great songs.  I've followed his music since that time and it just gets richer and richer.
This winter and early spring as I drove across the American Southwest, I played his music. I gave away most of my CDs when I moved and then bought a car with a CD player. So I have two CDs, both are Steve's.  And I still love them both! I seriously considered driving nine hours, ONE way, to a concert "near" me. But it's still winter in North Dakota by the Canadian border and I decided it wasn't the best idea I've had.

Today I opened my email after a brief hiatus from electronics and there was an email from Steve. It has links to Steve's Easter weekend blogs with music (one of my absolute favorite songs)  and even a lovely sonnet from Malcolm Guite. Malcolm is an English poet and friend of Steve's.
http://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/2013/03/31/a-sonnet-for-easter-dawn/

The story of their meeting and collaboration on an Advent album is worth digging up.  It's a story of true Christian hearts meeting and creating worship. OK- here it is! http://stevebell.com/2012/10/story-of-keening-for-the-dawn/



So... without further ado, I shall copy and paste Steve's Easter email. Be blessed. I hope you ca look each one up and enjoy great theology, great songs and a great sonnet.  God is great- that's the word for this Easter afternoon.

Hi All - 

I thought I'd send you all a few songs and blogs related to the Easter weekend. Each includes a reflection and a song. If they help to focus your weekend, I'd be most pleased:

• This is Love: A Race to the Bottom (for Maundy Thursday)  - a reflection on the counter intuitive nature of Christ's witness. Includes the song, This is Love

• Gone is the Light (for Good Friday) - a reflection about our reticence to wait in the darkness. Includes the song Gone is the Light

• A Sonnet and a Song for Easter Dawn  (for Easter Sunday) - a reflection on God's "Yes!!" resounding throughout the cosmos on this very day. Includes the song "Was it a Morning Like This" and a link to a brilliant sonnet composed by Malcolm Guite

If you missed my previous Lenten blog see:

• From Lent to Love - reflects on the disaster of infidelity and God's response. Includes the song "Hosea, Come Back to Me."

Peace to you all,

Steve Bell

http://stevebell.com/

Christ is Risen!

1. He is risen indeed!

1. Low in the grave He lay,
   Jesus, my Savior,
   Waiting the coming day,
   Jesus, my Lord!
   • 
     
2. Vainly they watch His bed,Jesus, my Savior;
3. 
   
   Vainly they seal the dead,
   Jesus, my Lord!
4. 
   
5. 
   
6. Death cannot keep his Prey,
   Jesus, my Savior;
   He tore the bars away,
   Jesus, my Lord!

Refrain:
Up from the grave He arose,
With a mighty triumph o’er His foes,
He arose a Victor from the dark domain,
And He lives forever, with His saints to reign.
He arose! He arose!
Hallelujah! Christ arose!

He arose! He arose!

Hallelujah! Christ arose!

Light of the world,
This is why the Babe came 

1. Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty!
   Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee;
   Holy, holy, holy, merciful and mighty!
   God in three Persons, blessed Trinity!

Christ is RISEN!
He is risen indeed. 

1. 
   

1. 
   

Lent- Last Suppers

 

In a Lenten blog, Vanita Hampton Wright suggested some personal questions to center us in the Passion Week.

 She says, "There’s only so much one heart can hold and feel and comprehend. 

So listen to your own heart and allow it to land in a specific place this week—an event or one aspect of an event that takes place in Jesus’ life during Holy Week. St. Ignatius encourages us to have conversational prayer with Jesus, walking alongside Jesus as a friend while he goes through his great Passion.

Imagine watching something horrific happening to a person you know and love. Some of us don’t have to imagine—we have experienced this. Allow Jesus’ experience of the Passion to be as close and human as the suffering you have witnessed in your life or another’s. Take the time to consider details such as:

            ▪            Sharing with friends what you know will be a last meal."

I stopped right there. I had a last meal, a last supper.  It was breakfast.

Cherry blossoms drifted through the air, blessing a gentle spring. The airy blanket of pale pink blossoms always means a new season has come to Washington, DC.  

It’s spring again. Life renewed.

That particular spring day we were in the middle of suburban life as usual. A son and daughter were off at college; another son needed a ride to the airport. The youngest was in high school. It was just another day of normal family life.  We did the airport run and had plenty of time before the doctor’s appointment.  Time for breakfast together. 

I love breakfast. I love poached eggs and veggie omelets, rich pastries and chewy bagels. He loved Eggs Benedict. I teased him for always ordering the same thing but he said it was his favorite and he didn't enjoy it nearly often enough. Quiche Lorraine was the closest thing on that day’s breakfast menu at Le Madeline's French Café. The cozy interior had sturdy bricks and dark beams. Our heavy wooden chairs slid on wood floors. The food arrived hot on thick white earthenware.  We lingered over a second cup. We had time. Time to spend. 

It was our last breakfast, our last innocent meal. It was the last time we ate together without cancer as the unwanted guest at every table. The topic of unspoken fears. The cause of ruined taste buds. The reason for the feeding tube and blended meals that refused to stay down.  Our bitter pill to swallow. 

It became our last supper. 

Did Jesus know exactly what was ahead of Him at His last supper? 

Did he gently joke with his friends? 

Was He able to savor the bitter herbs and lamb they shared or

 did He choke it down with the foreknowledge of what was soon to come?  

We think of Judas leaving to betray his Teacher, 

Peter swearing his faithfulness,

John's earnestness to be close to his loved Master.  

It all feels so solemn and tragic, the portend to the great agony ahead. 

That beautiful spring day we didn't know the agony ahead of us. But we also didn't know we would soak in moments of pure joy. Moments of bliss and tender intimacy. Arms around each other enjoying the beauty of a tree bathed in golden afternoon light or walking the halls of hospitals hand in hand, our marriage became as good as marriage gets.  We expressed our love in the best ways we knew and received enough from each other. He was secure; I was needed.

We loved well. We laughed.  We lived. 

In Luke’s gospel story of that meal, Jesus says,

“I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer."

What did he know?

Did he see past the agony to His victory over death?

Or did He truly know firsthand the pure joy of life,

 the new life His death would create for us?

 

His love was eager to eat with them, to share His final meal with them.

His obedience brought God's kingdom into our lives. 

Does He really love us that much? 

I think about how Jesus lived on earth.  He was Son of God, Son of man.

We know He suffered in the garden later the very night of that Passover meal.
We know He died in agony the next afternoon. 

But in the time He walked on this earth, did He look back without regret and anticipate without anxiety- unlike the rest of us?  

Did He truly live in the present and 

experience each moment as it came?

Did He really enjoy that one last supper with his friends?  

If so, that must be a true characteristic of His divinity - to be fully present as each hour comes, to be the joy in the midst of suffering.

He knew what was ahead of Him and He chose to eat the traditional meal and be with his disciples, be in that moment. And He transformed that moment into a celebration- a celebration we continue at our communion tables.   He knew his disciples would betray, deny and scatter in His moment of greatest need.  He walked willingly into the night of Gethsemane and into the arms of Judas. 

His Last Supper was the fortification for the agony ahead. 

His Last Supper was the final preparation for the joys that lay beyond the cross. 

 His Last Supper was the meal that ended in Resurrection and joyful restoration. 

 

There will continue to be last suppers in our lives, the quiet moments before our greatest trials. Sometimes it will be breakfast.  

Can we also choose to be fully present for each moment and anticipate the joys?

May those moments be steps toward our resurrection and our restoration.

Lent- exhausted from sorrow

This winter and into Lent I've been reading a wonderful devotional, Seeking God's Face- Praying with the Bible through the Year. It follows the church calendar and the readings this week reflect on the comingPassion.  So yesterday I read-

Jesus went out as usual to the Mount of Olives, and his disciples followed him. 

On reaching the place, he said to them, "Pray that you will not fall into temptation." He withdrew about a stone's throw beyond them, knelt down and prayed, "Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me: yet not my will, but yours be done." An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground. 

When he rose from prayer and went back to the disciples, he found them asleep, exhausted from sorrow. "Why are you sleeping? he asked them. "Get up and pray so that you will not fall into temptation."

While he was still speaking, a crowd came up, and the man who was called Judas, one of the Twelve, was leading them. He approached Jesus to kiss him, but Jesus asked him, "Judas, are you betraying the son of Man with a kiss?"

When Jesus' followers saw what was going to happen, they said, "Lord, should we strike with our swords?" And on of them struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his ear.

But Jesus answered, "No more of this!"

Luke 22:39-51

I don't know how many times I have read this passage or heard it read but this time, "An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him." leaped off the page.  How had I forgotten there was an angel? And the disciples were a stone's throw away from him, asleep? 

Have there been  times when I was close to an angel, so close to a ministering presence that could offer me strength, as this one that strengthened the Lord Himself?  Perhaps the angel was just for Jesus and the disciples weren't ready to see angels among them.  Someone knew- Luke recorded it.  All we know is they were warned of  coming temptations and exhorted to pray. Instead, they responded to their present sorrow and fell into an exhausted sleep. 

                                         ...he found them asleep, exhausted from sorrow. 

We know that Judas had left to collect his twenty silver pieces to betray Christ. The disciples and Jesus had just finished a Passover meal together and Jesus had washed their feet. They were bonded into a band of brothers. But as they followed him to their usual place of prayer, a quiet grove of olives on a hill overlooking Jerusalem, they must have had troubling questions. 

Why are we going out here at night? We have enemies about at night.

 Does Jesus know what he's doing?

Where is Judas? Did I understand right what Jesus said about him? 

How does all of this dread and darkness fit in with that wild parade into Jerusalem just days ago?

The people loved him and waved palm branches.  

Why doesn't Jesus seize this time of popularity to declare his intentions?

I don't understand what Jesus is doing.

What's this "fall into temptation" he's talking about?

 Doesn't Jesus know me? 

So while Jesus withdrew and sweat drops of blood in his anguish and turmoil, his disciples wrestled with their own turmoil. All the time they spent with him, walking and talking, seeing miracles up close and personal, even being sent out and returning rejoicing that the demons obeyed them.

¹⁷ The seventy returned with joy, saying, “Lord, even the demons are subject to us in Your name.” ¹⁸ And He said to them, “I was watching Satan fall from heaven like lightning. ¹⁹ Behold, I have given you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing will injure you. ²⁰ Nevertheless do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are recorded in heaven.”

²³ Turning to the disciples, He said privately, “Blessed are the eyes which see the things you see, ²⁴ for I say to you, that many prophets and kings wished to see the things which you see, and did not see them, and to hear the things which you hear, and did not hear them.” Luke 10

Now here they are in the garden, only months or even weeks after Jesus told them they were blessed to see the things you see and that they were to rejoice that your names are recorded in heaven. And they are asleep, exhausted from sorrow. They missed the angel. Soon, they will fall into temptation. Some will respond in fear and anger when Judas shows up. They will pull swords and begin hacking at ears.  Some will just run away.  Before the night is over, one will deny Him. 

And Jesus' response? 

                                              But Jesus answered, "No more of this!"  

No more of what? Anger, violence? Of course, but I wonder if he also meant no more falling asleep in exhaustion from unanswered questions. No more missing what is happening in the spiritual realm all around you. No more missing the angel sent to strengthen. 

What do I do when my questions aren't answered? 

Do I pray for strength to face the temptations of anger and despair?
Do I wait in faith to join the activity in the spiritual realm?
Do I open myself to the ministrations of others, and let God decide if it's to be an angel or a human?

Or do I exhaust myself in my sorrow?


Today I'm pondering during this season of Lent.

Home again and just in time....

I left my home in South Dakota a week before Christmas and I returned almost three months later. It was a good winter- Christmas with my sister and one of my sons in Denver. A road trip to Texas and meeting Mariam Charis Cleveland- big highlight!  All of my children were able to come and we had New Year's Eve together, although having two babies was a change from our usual parties. Life is all about change. And it's all good.

I had great fun wandering around the southwest and had a month in sunny Tucson- where is snowed and the snow actually stayed on the ground overnight. I took some fun pictures and decided that was my winter.

Ha!

Good morning, Black Hills!

View out my patio doors looking east. 

Out the front door- clearly I wasn't quite ready to open the doors and face the day.

The world awaits!

Finally we have enough snow and the neighbors are burning slash piles from the beetle trees cut last summer.
This is the view from my friend's house. Come back and play in the snow, Val!

Love the snow covered trees

 When I was a little girl in Alaska, I rode to school in a big yellow school bus. And in the winter-well, not the dead of winter because that bus ride was in total darkness!  But in late fall, the trees would sometimes be covered with hoar frost. Perfectly outlined branches were sparkly white against the blue sky. The frost coated each individual branch and made the world a fairy wonderland.

I thought of those Alaskan winters today and realized as a child, I never thought, "Gee I'm lucky to be living in such a beautiful place." People, when they learn I grew up in Alaska, ask me what it was like, "How did you like living in Alaska?"  And my sincere reply is, "Gee I don't know. How did you like growing up in... Brooklyn, Virginia, Wisconsin, etc?"   As a child, I took it for granted that everyone lived in a place that was ethereal in winter. That all kids rode to school and looked across a glacial river toward snow topped mountains that jutted five thousand feet above the valley floor.  That you could skate for miles on frozen fields and ski every weekend- for cheap.

But now I am an adult, to copy St Paul, "I've put aside childish things." I don't want to take anything for granted.  Now I want to be aware of the beauty that surrounds me. I want to be grateful for my good fortune and God's grace to have landed here after my safe world collapsed.  I want to look out my windows and not bemoan the cold and snow but to enjoy my next taste of winter. And it's much easier to have this attitude since I've been in the sunny, warm Southwest for the last three months!

So I'll celebrate winter and appreciate the fun and beauty.

Back on skis again!
On the way home I stopped in Cheyenne and  the Sierra Trading Post Company's outlet store..... new cross country skis!

First since 1971....it's about time. 

Those are my ski tracks! It's only about six inches of snow. 

I love snow! 

In case you missed it, I do live in paradise!

Lent- A Door in the Wall

"If thou followeth a wall far enough, there must be a door in it."

One of my favorite children's books is A Door in the Wall by Marguerite de Angeli.  The story is set in Medieval England and young Robin's dream of being a knight are thwarted by a  separation from his parents, crippling illness, the plague and other circumstances beyond his control.  He is rescued and nursed back to wholeness by a friar, Brother Luke.  It is Br. Luke who assures the bitter young man that every wall must have a door.  A door to place other than the one you are in.
 http://www.amazon.com/Door-Wall-Books-Young-Readers/dp/0440227798


In my last Lenten musings, I focused on walls. The walls we erect between us and others, between us and God.  I was in Tucson and saw walls every time I left the house.  My time in Tucson has ended but during those last few days in the southwest, God opened a door in one of my walls. 





On my trip north to Colorado, I visited the Benedictine Monastery in Pecos, New Mexico.  My only other visit was in 1975 and I have wanted to return ever since.  The monastery chapel was the receptacle for a movement of the Holy Spirit that sealed my heart to God and has remained a touchstone for my spiritual life.  

I had unrealistic anticipation.  You really can't go home again.  
Sometimes home has moved, sometimes you have. 

The trees still frame the adobe structures. My eyes lifted to the same bell tower.  And the bells still ring for lauds and vigils and the daily mass.  There is a timelessness to any monastery that follows Benedict's order of prayer and work. 

 The path didn't lead to the experience I had before or the warm intimacy I expected. The people have changed, the fervor of the charismatic era has ebbed to the more traditional format, monks have come and gone. Even the buildings changed and it took a chance encounter with an elderly woman to confirm that I was not mistaken in my memories.

 But the path still led me there and it was good, both now and all those years ago.

Perhaps God knew what I needed then- a straight and obvious path, an experience that cemented my soul to Himself.  A memory to anchor me and remind me of the day the wind blew through the chapel.  The chapel with closed doors and closed windows.  The physical experience of the power of the Spirit of God.

Now my path feels more like this climb up the hills behind the monastery.

Is this the path? 

Does it need to be this steep?  

Where is it going? 

Is there something at the top or am I just wandering? 

And the next day after my hike, I was sore and had obviously pulled a muscle in my thigh.  I hadn't stretched because I didn't expect the climb.

In my spiritual walk this winter,  I have often forgotten to "stretch", to warm up my soul.  I was busy, I was sick, I was distracted and my quiet times in His presence, my warming up to His still voice were few. And when we are distracted and unaware, the unexpected tough climbs, the news that shakes our soul, the larger world that intrudes on our small world- can be wounding, injuring or even crippling.

In de Angeli's wonderful story, Robin sees his future, the only future he could imagine as the son of a valiant knight, completely changed by his crippling illness.  He was walled into a place he did not want to be.  And it took the wisdom of a godly man to help him see the possibility of a door in his wall.  But sometimes you have to go the length of the wall before the door appears.

The  gate at the monastery at Our Lady of Guadalupe Abbey
Pecos, New Mexico

Sometimes we first need  just a glimpse before we are ready for a door in the wall. 

Monastery doors

Santa Fe, New Mexico

Along the road....
Raton, New Mexico

I don't know where my new open door will lead. Once again, my path appears more like a climb and less like a stroll across a simple bridge. But in this season of Lent, I remember Jesus' somber walk to Jerusalem where He wept over her people.  His heavy climb to the cross. The cross that made it possible for me to be fully part of the great plan of God.  His are the wide open spaces outside the walls I've erected to keep myself safe and secure.  The walls that always have a door if I am willing to walk the length and watch with spiritual eyes for the opening.  

Lent - a season for preparing, for remembering, for finding our door in the wall. 

Lent- walls

As I drive around Tucson, I see walls.   On the East coast there are wood fences, usually hidden by the trees or undergrowth.  No trees, no undergrowth here!  No trees, no wood fences. But lots of stone and stucco and they are so much more visible.  Or perhaps, as a visitor, I'm more aware of them.

Typical wall of a neighborhood

Sometimes they are fancy with patterns...

Or crafted with native stone. 

Sometimes they are white and striking...

sometimes dull and boring. 

Some houses have a "wall" distinguishing it from the street.  Desert style.

Even churches have walls around them.

Standard adobe wall.....

Step back and see the church behind. 

 Not all walls are bad- in the desert, walls keep out snakes and rodents. People need boundaries to feel safe and secure.  We recognize mine from yours.  Even in our inner spaces, we have "walls" in place that guard from improper exposure. We are safe with walls.

But Lent can be a season of hiding behind another kind of wall- the wall of "I gave up chocolate, tv, coffee... for Lent and that's my bit." Or the evangelical wall - "Our church doesn't do Lent, isn't that Catholic?"


But Lent is the season for all of God's people as a body to reflect on the coming death and resurrection of Christ. It is also a wonderful time to examine our hearts and see how we have let the cares of the world, the distractions, the busyness of modern life to dull us to His sacrifice, His love, His heart.

For we also have created walls in our faith life. 

Walls of.....

Busy

Wounded

Distracted

Betrayed

Complacent

Hurt

Tired

This Lent season, as I explore a new geography here in the Southwest, I'm reflecting on the walls I have allowed in my life.  I am trying to be mindful of the ways I distance myself from God.  I am picking at some walls that have put a barrier between me and the fullness of God in my life. I started to say tear down but most of the life of faith isn't that big and dramatic, it is just be aware and faithfully removing yet another stone. 

Sometimes we are concerned that the stones of our inner walls are too firmly set or too big or it is too much work to tackle what's behind the wall.

 Some of my walls are fancy- travel sometimes distracts me. Some of my walls are dull and boring- just being lazy in my time reading His book.  

 If I had to name the wall that most separates me from Jesus, it would be FEAR. 

While I'm brave behind the wheel on a cross country trek; I struggle with fear of what I cannot control. You would think that since the death of my husband- a fear I carried for most of my military marriage, I'd have tackled that wall.  The worst happened and God sustained me. Life continued and it is good.  

But now I fear for my children and their children. I wake at night in irrational panic and wonder what will happen next, when the next shoe will drop.   I fear and I know it is the wall that separates me from the joy, the peace, the love that He desires for me.         For all His people. 

Even the cactus says "Could be danger here!"

But this is a park.
A refuge

A place of beauty and lovely words. 

A place in the urban desert with running water and burbling fountains.
A refuge

http://www.tohonochulpark.org/wordpress/gardens/visit-gardens/

My word for this year is "Relax- God is big"

So God, I'm trying. I'm letting go pebble by pebble, I'm reminding myself of your love. I'm digging out another stone when they worry their way to the surface of my soul.  I am seeking refuge in Your word and with Your people. Within that safe place, within the walls of Your protective love and care, I'm releasing myself to write and examine my fear. I am nourishing myself with the beauty of Your creation- knowing that You also sustain it and sustain me.  You have only goodness toward me.  

^{Phillipians 4:4} Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! ⁵ Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. ⁶ Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. ⁷ And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding,will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

⁸ Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. ⁹ Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you. 

http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Philippians+4&version=NIV

Oh, for my walls to be winsome, an invitation to come into a safe refuge and play! 

Glimpses in the desert

  Israel.

We think of Jesus' temptation in the desert and don't consider how much other empty space Jesus traveled through with his disciples.   I've been to Israel- not sure what it looked like when Jesus walked there but now there is plenty of spaces that are well, barren.  It's a land that causes you to crave water and trust completely on someone greater than you to provide food and shelter.  It's a holy place.

Last week I drove across the Sonoran desert from Tucson to Southern California. http://www.desertusa.com/du_sonoran.html

It's a desert full of saguaro with big fat arms reaching to the sky by Tucson but it's also up to the edge of sand dunes as big as mountains.  It is ringed with various mountain ranges.  Hot, dry, empty.  A holy space.



I drove alone and I reflected- did Jesus long for distraction?  I had updated my phone and erased my books on tape. The radio pretty much reflected the people of the region and for once I would have settled for cowboy music. Nothing against Mexican folk music but it's not familiar folk music to my ears.  Strong cell signals were coming out of Mexico, right across the border, my phone occasionally beeped  to say, "Welcome overseas!  To call back to the US, dial..... Please note international rates apply...."  I didn't really want to talk anyway and that pretty much discouraged it.



Jesus didn't travel alone. He retreated to prepare for each day but his life was lived with people. Walking, talking, resting, finding shelter, being together.  But did He ever long to travel alone- alone with his thoughts, free to stop and explore a glimpse?  And would he have also longed to connect with others, as I do?



So here's my desert glimpses.

iPhones at 70mph make lousy camera.
Oh, to have unlimited time for all of these trips-
but time is always limited by something. 

But for this moment,  I had to stop and I retraced my route for a mile on a rough road that paralleled the interstate.  The mountains weren't the Misty Mountains of Middle Earth- likely no orcs or dwarves dwelled there but the peak tops jagged blue in the distant and evoked a small longing for my own Lothlorien.

What caught my eye was the train cars against the desert mountains.
Quick! Go back before the train moves. 

What is the story behind this train?
Abandoned on the siding?
Waiting?

They didn't move

Are these mountains as empty as they appear?
What stories do they hold?

 I returned three days later and the train cars were still there. Now the rust was obvious.

They were waiting in the desert, art for my eye;  

time standing still. 

Is there empty space you are walking across? Does it feel like a dry and dusty spell?  A desert?

Or are you like me, moving through life on speed control?  

My wandering allows opportunities to stop and explore the glimpse that catches my eye.  I'd love to do a piece of art with these waiting boxcars- will I?

Will you create a moment of beauty from the quick glimpses in your journey- glimpses of art, life, light, or even grace, love or mercy?

This is the season of Lent. 

Waiting, preparing, pondering the great sacrifice to come. 

Some days our only sacrifice may be awareness, attentiveness. 

 Taking the time to exit the freeway and take a picture or two.

 Hold a moment in our mind-

 really taste the orange,  

reflect with gratitude, 

notice the sun, 

see the flower, 

cuddle the baby.  

 And know Jesus will be there. 

Taking the journey with you.