Monday Morning Musing

This morning, I was awakened by the sounds of crows cawing in an old tree across the alley. I tried to make out what they were saying, but it was all Greek to me. I went out the side door of the house to haul in logs for the woodstove, and heard the distinctive chick-a-dee-dee-dee from the spruce near highway 169. A couple of jays have been in noisy conversation at the feeder as they suspiciously watch a squirrel climb up the gutter to the roof of the house. The squirrel chatters as he launches himself in the air, landing short of the feeder, but scattering the jays in the process. 

There are many cries coming out of the wilderness. Last Saturday evening, the wind shook the house. In the early morning darkness, there was crunching underfoot as the first real snow of winter covered the driveway. As I headed down the highway at sunrise, the landscape was glistening white. Old man winter was letting everyone  know he had returned and planned to hang around for a while. For many folks, these are the familiar cries we encounter in the woods and lakes in northern Minnesota, and we listen to them carefully. They tell us when to wear a winter jacket, put snow tires on our vehicles, and exchange lawnmowers for snowblowers.

In the season of Advent, we hear stories from another who cries out from the wilderness, John the Baptist. In these stories, John is dressed in camel skins while standing in the Jordan River encouraging us to prepare the Way for Jesus Christ. My prayer is that we heed John's call just like we do the winter wind. One way for us to prepare for Jesus' return is to do as Jesus did before he ascended. We need to bring the Good News to the poor, comfort the brokenhearted, and proclaim liberty to the oppressed. (Isaiah 61:1-4)  

When asked who he was, John said, "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, 'Make straight the way of the Lord.'" John 1:23

 For everything there is a season!  We have the seasons of summer, fall, winter, and spring. There are sports seasons of every kind. Even the church has liturgical seasons. Of course, we must not forget that desserts also have their seasons! We gorge ourselves with ice cream cones, blueberry pie, and strawberry shortcake in the summer months. Apple crisp, zucchini bread, and pumpkin pie fortify us each fall. However, as soon as the last piece of pie has been devoured from Thanksgiving, we march into the season of the Christmas cookie!

Totally predictable and greatly anticipated, my first Christmas cookies were presented to me on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Once home, I put on a pot of coffee and bit into a delicious sugar cookie. Sunday, I was handed a container as I left church. I popped off the blue lid of the container and stared at pretzels covered in white chocolate, Russian tea cakes, fruitcake and chocolate chip cookies. Manna from heaven! I think what I like most about Christmas cookies is not only is there great variety but also the love and care that goes into baking them. Each cookie is just as unique and beautiful as the person who took the time to bake and share them.

In many ways, our churches should be just like tins of Christmas cookies. Just like each container is filled with both the love of the baker and the joy found in the variety of cookies, our churches should also contain the love of the Creator and within a diverse community of believers and seekers. 

Late last week, I opened the door and was greeted by a blast of cold air. No amount of wishing, pretending, or ignoring could protect me from the reality that winter is here. Even though the calendar will tell me that the first day of winter is not until the winter solstice on December 21st,  I know better.  Afterall, the swans that have been gathering on lakes have now vanished, and even the neighborhood raccoon has not been sighted. Unlike humans, the animals are not in denial and have taken appropriate action. 

Coming to my senses, I venture into the elements and find comfort in the familiar smell of wood burning stoves, flannel shirts, and the warmth of holding a hot cup of coffee. Hennessey Lake looks like a mirror as clear ice stretches from shore to shore. Soon it will snow and the ice will be wrapped like a Christmas present under a tree. This present will not be opened at Christmas, but will have to wait until the spring thaw. In a few short weeks, as we accept the inevitability of winter, people will flock to lakes to fish and to the woods to ski and snowmobile. We do find joy in the changing seasons, even if we may be apprehensive at first.

In much the same way, the Church also has seasons. Last Sunday, we celebrated Christ the King and the end of the church year. This Sunday, we welcome Advent, the start of a new one. Just like we may be a bit apprehensive about the start of winter, many folks are not sure what to make of Advent. My prayer this week is that as we enter into Advent, we use these four weeks before Christmas to prepare and accept Christ's real presence in the world. Even though Christmas is when we memorialize an event that has already occured, we should take time during Advent to reacquaint ourselves with God's mysterious presence in our lives. Afterall, just like a cold blast of air woke me up to the reality of winter, may Advent wake us up to receive the gift of a baby in a manger.

 It is late afternoon. I have just lit a fire in the woodstove and I am finally getting around to writing this week's Musing. Early this morning, I could think of nothing to share, so I told myself to wait till lunchtime. Lunch came and went, but the only thing I had to show was an empty candy bar wrapper. It is evening, and I still feel uninspired.  As I put my toes up against the stove to warm them a bit, I could hear the sound of the wood crackle. I opened the doors of the wood stove so I could watch the glowing embers. For just a few minutes, I fell into a trance. There is something peaceful watching wood burn in a fireplace.
As my toes  quickly become hot dogs, I revel in the heat from the woodstove. Outside, the temperature drops, the sun sets, while inside the fire's warmth provides comfort. In much the same way, the Gospel of Jesus Christ can also provide comfort and warmth. Today, as cold and darkness threaten people's lives, my prayer is that the church can light fires of love and compassion, so all who gather around them will find comfort and consolation. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

 Sunday, the good folks at Moose Lake United Methodist Church gathered in their fellowship hall after worship for lunch. The star attraction was homemade beef stew. I gently blew on the spoon to cool it down and then took my first bite. I was immediately transported back in time to my parents' dinner table. Is there anything more comforting than potatoes, carrots, onions, and rutabagas doing the polka with chunks of beef in rich gravy? Fortunately for me, I was given a care package of stew which I enjoyed for my evening meal.

Recently, I was asked to explain the Holy Spirit. I believe the Holy Spirit is like the gravy in a bowl of beef stew! The carrots, potatoes, onions, and  rutabagas represent the diversity of all the people in the world. If you put all of these vegetables into a bowl along with some chunks of beef they remain just what they are because they have no real relationship with each other. However, just like the gravy turns individual vegetables and chunks of meat into something scrumptious called stew, I believe all of the diverse people who gather to follow Jesus Christ become the Church through the power of the Holy Spirit. 

My prayer is that we ask God to send down the Holy Spirit to renew both the Church and all of Creation. Afterall, just like folks find comfort in a good bowl of beef stew, may all who enter the doors of our buildings find that very same comfort, communion, and love.

 Sunday afternoon, two friends said they had a surprise for me. I hopped into their pickup and they took me to a small lake. Once we arrived, I could hardly believe my eyes! The  golden leaves of the aspen and birch trees framed the calm, glassy water much like an ornately framed mirror. Twelve swans swam effortlessly in pairs of two, making their way towards the center of the lake, waiting for others who would soon join them in the coming days. It is fall. Swans gather as a community to eventually migrate a few hundred miles south, so they can find open water when the small ponds and lakes of northern Minnesota freeze. It is not unlike city folks who each summer go to their cabins on small lakes in northern Minnesota and then make their way south as the air begins to chill. 

As I watched these beautiful birds, I was impressed by their congeniality and order. They moved together in unison. A single swan seemed to be in charge and acted much like a conductor leading a symphony orchestra. In a very similar way, this week  Cromwell, Hill City, and Moose Lake United Methodist Churches gathered not for a journey south, but to make plans for the future. In these meetings, we, just like swans, are organizing in the hope that others will soon come and join the herd of Jesus followers.  

Since its inception, Christianity has always been about community. Although some are spiritually well fed living solitary lives, many of us require the same order and congeniality I witnessed while watching swans gather in the fall. My prayer is that the communities of Cromwell, Hill City, and Moose Lake continue to gather, organize, and patiently wait for others to arrive. As Jesus' flock gathers, it is then we can help build God's New Creation right here on earth assisted not only by swans, but by all of God's creatures.

 In my weekly journeys, I have been noticing turkeys gathering in fields. I am told they gather in the fall to establish pecking orders, so turkeys reaching maturity can find their place within their social structure. Overhead, geese can be seen in V formation, anywhere from nine or ten to upwards of thirty migrating to warmer climes. Even swans gather. Yesterday on Hennessy Lake, the pair of two suddenly turned into three. Soon, swans will gather in fields and then find larger bodies of open water to hang out until the spring thaw. 

Of course, people have also been gathering. As I left a local restaurant Friday evening, I could hear the sounds of a marching band across Forest Lake. As the band strutted their stuff at a high school football game, several hundred folks cheered them on in the stands.Throughout fall in northern Minnesota, people gather at hunting shacks, wood piles, and end of the year cookouts, enjoying themselves in front of campfires before the chill of winter sets in.

Contrary to public opinion polls and cynics, people still gather at churches. It is true that church attendance has declined, and especially after COVID, some churches have been forced to close.

Why is this so?  Even though I am just a simple country preacher and not a social scientist, I do wonder if in an age where the Word of God can be heard online twenty four hours from the comfort of peoples living rooms, we maybe need to be clear about the mission of the local  church. Afterall, turkeys, geese, swans, and even people at football games gather for a purpose. As followers of Christ, I believe the churches that will thrive will be those where the Gospel of Jesus Christ is not only heard, but lived. My prayer for us this week is that when we gather in person, we understand our purpose and put into practice the Word proclaimed by feeding the hungry, healing the sick, and loving every single person just as Jesus loves us. 

On Saturday, I was watching the last few leaves drop from a nearby maple tree and realized that the season is aptly named. Now that the aspen and birch are turning yellow, it will not be long until they drop their leaves and carpet the ground below. Sometimes, my eye catches a single leaf as it swirls and gently lands on the damp ground. Other times, when the wind blows, there can be hundreds of leaves dancing through the air, while those who are still attached applaud their performance. As small kids, we would rake leaves into big piles, and after a running start, jump into them creating a mess in the process.There is beauty and joy in  falling leaves.

Saturday morning, I turned on my radio and heard the horrendous accounts of bombs falling out of the sky in both the Ukraine and the Middle East. My enjoyment of falling leaves quickly turned into horror and sadness at the cruelty being inflicted upon innocent people. As the radio station I was listening to faded, in my search for a new station, I landed on one where the announcer was proclaiming this was God's will, and the end of the world was near. Knowing this announcer was not God, and being wary of false prophets, I turned my radio off and began to pray. 

In times like these, I often recite the Prayer of St. Francis which begins, "Make me a channel of your peace, where there is hatred let me sow love."  While it is true that praying for peace is essential in times of chaos, more is required. This prayer calls us to take action by sowing love and becoming peacemakers, just as Christ insists. Although it is unlikely that I will travel to the Ukraine, the Middle East, or other war ravaged places in the near future, I can extend the same peace Christ offers me to everyone who crosses my path. If all of Christendom joined in these efforts, maybe we could melt away the evil within hearts of those who beat drums of war. Furthermore, we could  provide a Christ-centered alternative to those intent on scaring people into thinking the end of the world is near.

Sunday afternoon, I spent a bit of time cleaning out a raised garden bed. I pulled out tomato and cucumber plants. Their foliage, no longer green and healthy, but rather, yellow and brown is crunchy to the touch. Five big orange pumpkins have been moved indoors and are patiently waiting for their Halloween makeover.

Of course, there are the holdouts!  Eggplants are desperately hanging onto their fruit that is almost ready to be picked. In the absence of other plants, the deep purple fruit and oblong shapes, make a drab raised bed look exotic. Only a few feet away, one pumpkin vine, still green and lush, has big orange blooms which give the illusion that it is July 4th instead of October 2. In a smaller raised bed, two gladiolas are just beginning to bloom. Although they are well behind their brothers and sisters, their pink and yellow flowers delight the eye. The red dahlia, defiant as ever, refuses to concern herself with Jack Frost's eventual appearance. I admire the resilience of these late bloomers! In their refusal to let go of summer, they extend, if only by a few weeks, my enjoyment of the garden.

In many ways, these late bloomers - beautiful, resilient, and defiant - are not unlike many in and outside the doors of our churches. Some folks may be like the eggplant, waiting to be seen. There are others whose walk with Christ requires more time to grow just like late blooming gladiolus. And finally, may we all have the defiance of the red dahlia and continue to bloom even when seasons of change are close at hand. My prayer is that we see the beauty of all the plants in the garden, regardless of when they bloom or bear fruit. 

 The past two nights, I was awakened by the sound of rain on my roof. Even though it disturbed my slumber, I was relieved by the pitter patter because I knew there would be some relief for dry forests and shrinking lakes and rivers. At a youth football game on Saturday morning, no one seemed to mind standing in the rain. Its presence was greeted much like one joyfully welcomes the return of a long lost friend. The moisture on my face reminded me of wet kisses from grandma when I was a small boy. 

On Sunday afternoon, I went for a walk along Trout Lake near my home in Coleraine. As I walked along the shore, I stopped briefly on a bridge. As I looked down at the water, I became fixated on the small ripples created by tiny raindrops hitting the surface of the water. These ripples were not as obvious as the ones created when tossing a large rock into the water, and they did not have the power, nor cover the distance of wakes created by motor boats. What caught my attention was when the edges of one small ripple touched the edges of other ripples. It was as if God was using the surface of the lake as a canvas and the raindrops as brushes to create a beautiful mosaic of connectedness. The beauty of one ripple was revealed only when it touched the edges of other ripples. 

In much the same way I felt God's presence in the hundreds of small ripples created by raindrops on a lake, I believe God's presence is also revealed when the human family, also God's creation, gathers and creates ripples of love. This mosaic is also a work of art, created by God, not contained by the shoreline of a lake, but rather, for the transformation of the world. 

 Saturday afternoon I was driving through Palisade when "Autumn Leaves" was being sung by Nat King Cole on the radio. Nothing could be more fitting. Maples, other hardwoods, and sumac were beginning to turn color and the once green landscape was suddenly different. Not unlike the sentiment of the song, I too was feeling nostalgic and just a bit sad. Despite the beauty of autumn leaves, we all know that soon winter snow will cover them and the freshness of the fall air will become bitterly cold. Even though we have not witnessed our first frost, some of our garden vegetables have stopped producing as pumpkins turn orange and apples drop onto the ground below.

Fortunately, we all know a way to ease us into winter. Instead of rushing inside to hunker down in the face of what is coming, we should become defiant, and remain outside, sitting around campfires roasting hotdogs, eating hot bowls of chili, and fixing smores over the embers of aspen logs. Although we cannot stop the inevitable, we can make time to be with others and celebrate in the present and appreciate all that autumn has to offer no matter how fleeting. Afterall, we know she will return again next year.

Recently, while sitting around a campfire, clutching a hot cup of coffee and telling stories and singing songs, my melancholy faded and I became filled with gratitude. My prayer this week is that as we gather with family and friends outside to not only enjoy the beauty of autumn, but we also ake time to sing a hymn or say a prayer to God, the Creator, for the wonder of not only fall, but also winter, summer, and spring.  

 One of the best things about my job, other than church potlucks with homemade desserts, is listening to people's stories. Each week, before and after church, there are the usual updates about people's health, rememberings of someone who recently passed, and of course, the doings of children and grandchildren. These stories are important to the life of every community because they keep us connected to each other and remind us to reach out to those we maybe have not seen for a little while. Then there are the stories about social events and happenings,  such as  summer trips to state or county fairs, family reunions, outdoor concerts, and spending time with others at the beach, cabins, and campgrounds. These stories let others know what we have been doing and help us find the joy in the change of seasons. 

Of course, the third type of stories I hear are very different from the other two. These stories, told often, actually get better the more they are told. These stories often occur when someone is alone or with just a close friend or two. One rarely gets tired of hearing these stories because they encourage the listener to see something beyond what they could ever imagine on their own, and therefore point to what is possible. These stories defy belief, and although we may question a few of the details in the differing retellings, it is clear that something wonderful has happened. By now I am certain you have correctly ascertained that I am talking about fish stories. As we begin to move into fall, and boats and pontoons are seen less frequently on lakes, we keep alive the good memories of summer by retelling the stories of great catches  over and over again. These wonderful accounts keep us looking forward to next summer, and help us make it through long winters. 

Of course, there are other stories,  shared in churches and homes that also have medical reports of people being healed, dying and rising. There are numerous accounts of people gathering to break bread with one another and traveling long distances to witness the birth of a child. There are plenty of fish stories as well. There are some that tell of great catches of fish, fixing fish for breakfast, and one where someone actually gets eaten by a very large fish. Fortunately, these stories have been collected and put into one book called the bible, so we can tell them over and over again. The bible is many things, but most importantly, the bible reminds us about God's love for us and provides us good counsel on how to love God, love Jesus, and love each other. 

 For the last three years, every Monday morning I get up early to write my Monday Musings. My usual pattern is to make a pot of coffee, then sit at one end of a large rectangular table so I can gaze out the windows. As I begin to write, I notice what is going on in the neighborhood, including rabbits, squirrels, and cats that meander through hoping to catch a bird. I watch the pigeons that hang out underneath the bridge nearby on 169.  My favorite sight is watching birds in the bird feeder. Although I do get some birds, there are not as many as visit other folks' feeders. I have tried different types of bird seed and different types of feeders, but the most interesting sight in my feeder has been a large and persistent racoon.

Today, at the suggestion of some local experts, I am planting a tree nearby to see if that will entice more birds to come eat breakfast with me. Last week, a neighbor came over with his bobcat and dug a beautiful hole where the tree will be planted. If all goes well, at 9am today a beautiful  mountain ash will arrive and be carefully placed into the ground. It will take a lot of water these next few weeks to make sure it will survive, and it may take some time before it is big enough to be noticed by the birds, but I am excited nonetheless. I still wonder if the birds  will come.

In some ways, it is not unlike how people find their way to Jesus. Even though, like birds, a few  will find Jesus without anyone's help, for most folks, more is required. My prayer for us this week is that we can be the safe place where people can land until they feel comfortable and find the comfort available when being fed by Jesus Christ.

 Several days ago, after discussing the "Great Awakening" in the United States with two friends, I was reminded of a book I had purchased several years ago on that very topic. When I arrived home later that evening, I started combing my bookshelves for the book, but it was nowhere to be found. Early the next morning, I went to the garage and searched some of the shelves loaded with books being stored there. Still no luck. That afternoon, I went to the basement and opened several boxes of books, but still nothing. I became a bit frustrated and realized that maybe I needed to sort and organize the hundreds of books, and in the process, discard those books I do not want or need. Sunday afternoon, I began pulling books off shelves and it is no surprise that I now have a bigger mess than if I had left it alone. As I sorted, organized and culled those books I plan to give away, I now have books not only on shelves and in boxes, but on chairs, benches, and even stacked by category on the floor.  

At about 2am Monday morning, unable to sleep, I put on my infamous red plaid bathrobe and made my way to the kitchen to find nourishment. It was then that I tripped over a stack of books, crashing into a potted plant near a window. After I collected myself, I reached down to move the books out of my walking path and to my surprise, the very first book I grabbed was the book I had been searching for two days earlier.Today, after I finish penning these words, I will spend the rest of the day sorting through the words of others as I have no choice but to continue to  organize and reshelve the many books I have collected over the years. 

Just like it was the search for one book that has motivated me to organize my bookshelves, there is also one person, Jesus Christ who can also help us sort and bring new meaning into our lives, helping us transform the world into a more loving, compassionate, and beautiful place. My prayer this week is that we take time to search for the book that we may have lost or misplaced, the bible. Afterall, in this book we will be reunited with the Good News of Jesus Christ that even after hundreds of years is still able to help us sort through the chaos of the world and renew our lives in the process.

 This week in my travels, I have noticed leaves beginning to turn, and the evenings are beginning to cool. Very soon, I will be drinking my morning coffee with no sun to greet me as I look out the window into the yard. The lawn is growing more slowly, and tomatoes in the garden are quickly turning red knowing change is coming soon.

It was just the other day a young person informed me he would be starting college this week. I am very happy for him as he begins this new chapter in his life. Of course, I can also feel empathy for his mother. Even though she has prepared him well for this day, she knows a new season is beginning for both of them. As a matter of fact, in the next few weeks, children, teenagers, and young adults all over this country will migrate, not unlike geese, to classrooms to help them prepare for changes that await them once they become adults.

We live in a world of constant change, and life can oftentimes seem like we are a bobber floating aimlessly on a lake, unattached to a fishing pole. Fortunately for us, we can attach ourselves to Jesus Christ. Even though we do not see him in a physical form, we can nonetheless sense his presence when we spend time in private prayer or gather with others singing and proclaiming the Good News. Afterall, as John said, "Jesus is the Word of God become flesh, who from all eternity was with God, and actually is God."  My prayer for us this week is that even though our lives are in constant change, we find ways to attach ourselves to the Word of God, Jesus Christ, by engaging the Word of God in private meditation, gathering with a friend or two, or participating in community worship.

 This morning, I enjoyed the last of the pickled beets someone gave to me several days ago. This beet is not any old beet! No, this beet came from the Moose Lake UMC community garden and was pickled by one of the gardeners. As the bright red beet landed in my mouth and beet juice dribbled down my chin, I am reminded of all the other produce shared at all three churches the past few weeks. First there was rhubarb, leaf lettuce, and asparagus. More recently there have been beets, tomatoes, beans, and the always popular zucchini which are being marched up church steps and carefully placed on tables in the back of church. Of course, they don't last long, after church they find their way into the kitchens and onto the tables of those of us who love to cook and eat them, but for a variety of reasons, do not grow them. Regardless, as garden produce makes its way from seed to table, love and goodness are being shared that also feed our bellies and our souls.

In much the same way, the Gospel of Jesus Christ is planted in us and we are then called to share what it produces with others so they too can be fed and nourished. So what do we share with others?  We not only share the Good News found in the bible, but we are called to lovingly share food, clothing, and time. In Matthew's Gospel, the disciples ask Jesus to send those gathered in a deserted place away so they can find food on their own. However, Jesus says, "They need not go away, you give them something to eat." 

My prayer for us this week is that we a find ways to share with others the love of Jesus Christ that was planted in us and is now ready for harvest. Just like there are many types of vegetables in our garden, there are a variety of ways the love of Christ can be shared. Afterall, whether it be vegetables or love, it is always best when harvested and shared.

 Sitting across the table from me this morning is a beautiful floral arrangement of fresh flowers from a friend's garden. It is really quite remarkable, because from a distance it dazzles and has the ability to light up a room and yet, when looking at it up close, one discovers the beauty of each of the many varieties of flowers. There are both wild and domesticated flowers including dahlias, daisies, zinnias, along with ferns and goldenrod, just to name a few. Regardless of whether the spray is on an altar in a church or in the center of my dining room table next to a pot of coffee, it is an invitation to participate in something beautiful. Earlier this weekend, I attended a breakfast to support Grace House, a shelter to help provide housing for those in need in Itasca County. As I entered the large room, I immediately noticed tables full of people having lively conversations, enjoying the company of each other. As I sat at a table with friends, it was not the eggs, sausage, toast, and fruit that I found most nourishing, but rather, the stories of blueberry picking, gardens, and books that fed my soul and also reminded me about how dining room tables are not just about food. 

In today's world, where we are rushing from one place to another, and forced to frequently eat on the run, dining room tables are no longer for gathering. Speaking from experience, my table is often a place to put or stack things like the mail, books, and the unfolded laundry that I left the previous evening because I was too tired to put it away.

In Matthew's Gospel, it says, "And as Jesus reclined at table in the house, behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and were reclining with Jesus and his disciples." Obviously, if Jesus made time in his busy schedule to recline at table and to eat and enjoy a meal, maybe we too should also make time to sit at our tables. Afterall, whether it would be sitting across the table from a beautiful vase of fresh flowers or sharing stories with others, God is present in both. My prayer this week is that we slow down and take time to smell the flowers and also enjoy the company of others discovering the beauty of God in both flora and friends.

 A couple months ago, I attended a clergy meeting with pastors from across several denominations. As an icebreaker, we were asked to share what is the best thing about being a pastor.  Immediately, one pastor eloquently shared that it was bringing new people into the church or bringing back those who had fallen away. Heads nodded in agreement.  The next person expressed how they were moved and found fulfilment in ministering to families who were grieving the loss of a loved one. Once again, heads nodded and hushed voices could be heard saying, "Yes, yes." A third pastor enjoyed the theological challenge of preparing weekly sermons with the hope that it would bring meaning to those listening in the pews. It was now my turn to share, and without too much hesitation I said, "Dessert!" A couple of the pastors snickered, and one looked me straight in the eye and said, "Dessert?" Once again, I said, but this time with more conviction, "Dessert!"

Of course, even though that  conversation took place some time ago, I do believe it is the most honest words to ever escape my lips. For example, this morning as I sit on my deck at 5am, I am enjoying a cup of coffee and a wonderful lemon bar left over from Saturday worship in Cromwell. Two Sundays back, there were homemade cookies at Sunday morning worship in Hill City and after lunch an amazing Juneberry cobbler with whipped cream. Monday, I continued to enjoy baked goods from both Cromwell and Hill City's weekend worship. Tuesday, while visiting some with church folk in Cromwell, I was served fresh scones made with apricots and white chocolate. Wednesday, there were cookies at women's bible study and in the evening, more freshly baked cookies along with root beer floats at a church event in Bear Park. Thursday, there were decadent brownies at our basement church service in Moose Lake, and Friday, apple pie with ice cream skillfully served while visiting folks in Hill City. Of course, Saturday was where I fell in love with the  lemon bars I am enjoying this morning, and Sunday in Moose Lake, we had doughnuts. 

To be clear, even though I have yet to meet a baked good I did not like, what is best  about the ones made by church folk is they are made and shared out of love. When folks take time to bake something to be shared at church they are sharing a part of themselves. Furthermore, in between bites and nibbles, I believe our conversation is made sacred.  Disciple James writes, "From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this ought not be so."  My prayer for us this week is that we spend more time enjoying the desserts at church to help us temper our words so we can bless each other more. Bon appétit.