Some days, it’s easy to mistake the life I’ve been given for something of little value or consequence. In the grand scheme of things, I’m here for a very short period of time, I interact with an absurdly limited number of people and places, and I’m too easily distracted and stymied by life’s inconveniences. I’ll be forgotten soon after I’ve returned to the ashes and dust that formed me. There won’t be any statues of me, or any lasting work of art that I’ll leave behind, no permanent evidence of my existence at all beyond records of my birth, marriage, and death tucked into a file cabinet or digital storage.

But if that’s how I see life, I’ve missed the point. Its goal is not to leave behind a marker to prove I lived or proclaim my worth. The point is to live the sacred time I’ve been given, and to honor the sanctity of all life around me. I’m meant to be a light that illuminates the path for others as they live out their own precious time – and as others have done for me.

Isn’t that more than enough?

Thank you, Martin Luther King, Jr., for lighting the way. And grateful thanks for all the others who have done the same.

It’s a mystery, why life finds us; why do atoms, molecules, cells, membranes come together to form our physical bodies? Why the mind, heart, and spirit that only we can bring to this time and this place – or any time and place, for that matter.

Rejoice in the life given to you, because you are the only one who will ever have it. Find the joy in the dreary days, the pain, the struggle – and especially in the days that seem to hold nothing of consequence.

There are any number of reasons to feel angry, hurt, or bored.

You only need one to live in joy.

When was the last time you pulled a sled up a snowy hill, jumped on it, and whooshed all the way back to the bottom? Do you remember what it feels like – wind whipping, snow spraying, the sound of the sled against the snow? How many times did you tromp up and fly down the white hill before it was time to go home? Can you remember the sheer joy of it all, or do you remember only the cold feet and hands, the chapped lips? If given the chance, would you grab a sled and do it again?

Of course, it doesn’t have to be a sled on a hill. It could be a tire swing in the back yard, a pile of crisp leaves, waves on the beach, a polished bannister. Floating sticks a la Winnie the Pooh works, or any number of other things. They offer us wonder and drop us into the mystery of this world and our own lives. And that is no small thing.

I suspect that it might be the most direct way most of us come to what is most sacred – the sheer joy that there is this creation, and the wonder that you and I are part of it.

Masked Angels by Thom Nordquist (2020)

Every year, Thom Nordquist created a new card. I’m lucky enough to have several of them. This is one that came in 2020 – a lovely piece of art and connection in a time of isolation.

Thom created the Magi card for an Advent activity – mailing post cards of Advent travelers out into the world to connect the Christ Church community in Plymouth with family and friends near and far a la Flat Stanley.

After Thom’s death, his wife Ellen gave me framed editions of the originals. They are in my work space year round and in my living room during the holiday season.

I admire the artistry in these cards. Even more, I am touched by the effort and intention that went into their creation. They are reminders that love and kindness, regard and concern, can show up in many forms. Such blessings make their way though that holy gate commonly known as a mailbox.