She wasn’t impressed with us, which wasn’t surprising – cats have no use for the people next door, especially when they have two felines of their own. But each year of the last thirteen, she’s allowed us to become a bigger part of her life, even leaving a few mice on the doorstep for us to enjoy. In the last couple of years, Mosi was downright affectionate – an unexpected grace from an unlikely source.

Last night, Mosi’s 20 year old body started to shut down. Since her owner is away, we kept her company through her last hours, making sure she was comfortable. This morning, my husband and older son buried her.

As it usually goes, we had no say in Mosi becoming our neighbor. All we could do was choose to enjoy or ignore her. We chose to enjoy her, and she chose to do the same with us – neighbors by choice as well as circumstance.

Thank you, Mosi, for making love thy neighbor a joyful adventure.

He would go for walks with us, following along to keep us company. We always knew when he was near because his nails would click on the floor – he didn’t retract them as most cats do. He was part of our daily lives for over twelve years. He was more a dog in a cat suit than a cat.

After a good life and a few months of medical adventures, his body stopped working. We did the hard right thing, letting him go rather than let him live in pain. The tears we cry now are a sure sign of the love and grace Taylor brought into our lives.

Compassion. Kindness. Blessing. Simplicity. Hard Work. There are so many adjectives to describe the only man who chose Francis as his papal name.

I never met the man, but his dedication to prayer conversation, and advocacy for those in greatest need defined his time as the head of the Roman Catholic Church – it also made him an inspiration and beloved brother in Christ to Christians well beyond the boundaries of his tradition.

Like the Dalai Lama, Francis shouldered the title: His Holiness. Like the Dalai Lama, his way of being in the world made those two words more than titular: they were an apt description of the man.

He had a genuine hospitality that seemed as natural as breathing. He and his wife Lynn welcomed us into their home and graced ours with their warmth and laughter many times; I treasure that gift.

Jim could tell a story. I remember him talking of a friend – someone most of the people gathered also knew, even though many of them did not know each other. By the end of the telling, Jim had coaxed tales of this friend out of others – a living connection that hadn’t been known before. The end of the story was in a bar halfway around the world, patrons all singing a John Denver song.

There are many ways to live a good life, to offer love and service to this blessed, broken world. Jim’s had a way of gladdening the heart. And I am profoundly grateful.

I’ve loved Jimmy Buffett’s music since Come Monday came out. I learned his songs on LP, cassette, CD, DVD (sound tracks), and now through a streaming service. I love his originals and the remakes: James Taylor’s Mexico, John Denver’s Nothin’ But A Breeze, Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl. I’ve read The Jolly Mon to my sons and his novels for myself.

I danced my sons off to bed with Barometer Soup and Banana Wind. I did know by heart all the songs on Songs You Know By Heart. When I heard Fruitcakes on the radio while driving from New Jersey to New Hampshire, I pulled in to the next strip mall that had a record store to buy it [The only other time I did that: Lyle Lovett’s Joshua Judges Ruth].

Were there Buffett songs I didn’t care for? A few. Did I waste away in Margaritaville? No. Did I see in his word and music a troubadour? Absolutely. There was so much fun to his music, with not a little philosophy and a smidge of theology thrown in. Written on album sleeves and written on my heart so many songs.

Blessings and Peace, Jimmy Buffett. And profound thanks for your life’s work.

He was the new Suffragen (assisting) bishop when we moved into the Diocese of Massachusetts. He and his wife hosted all the new clergy and their spouses for dinner a few months later at their home in Needham. That was in 2002.

In the past twenty-one years, I’ve worked with Bud many times. He began a summer program for families at the Barbara C. Harris camp that offered family and faith friendly gatherings in the Monadnock region. Guitar in hand, he visited churches almost every Sunday. He had a passion for children’s ministry and a willingness to sing silly and sacred songs.

When he retired, he and his wife, Ruth Ann, settled in Plymouth and chose Christ Church in Plymouth for their church home. His passion for environmental awareness and appreciation continued in his work with the Creation Care movement; he encouraged churches to have energy audits and to adopt earth friendly practices. He and his wife sponsored local families at Christmas, shopping for gifts and the much needed food cards.

Bud Cederholm died peacefully in his sleep a few days ago. He touched so many lives, including mine. I am thankful for the many times I saw his love for God’s children grace the world.

He had one of the sharpest minds on campus, and one of the sharpest wardrobes (thanks to his wife, Hester). His work in Science and Theology went beyond the bounds of theological study, adding an openly spiritual element to a global, interdisciplinary dialogue. What made him a good mentor and outstanding teacher: he found life fascinating, in its many aspects. He made writing my dissertation much more interesting for his presence on my committee. More than any of these things, Wentzel was a friend.

I spent many hours in the van Huyssteen home, as a guest and as the campus bartender for special events at the seminary. The social grace and gracious spirit to be welcoming, respectful, and comfortable in both circumstances were signs of confidence and hospitality that eluded many others.

Wentzel was part of my life, not just part of my academic life. He and Hester toasted my engagement, celebrated the births of my sons, and made life wonderful with their presence at the dinner table. I am so grateful for his life, and for the blessing he brought into mine.

 Christmas Greetings from the Nordquists

Tom sent a work of art every year – a Christmas card. Always beautiful, with a wonderful sense of proportion – the kind of art that the heart and soul appreciate as much as the eye.

 Angels on High

These images graced our living room for the holidays, and now keep my place in the Bible and Book of Common Prayer. I see them every day, and every day I am grateful for the beauty they bring.

That would have been enough, the gift of beauty. But Tom also brought other gifts: a wonderful, quiet sense of humor; music to fill the worship space; and art in many forms to gladden the hearts of all who sat in the sanctuary of Christ Church.

This past year, Tom’s generosity brought joy in a holiday overshadowed by Covid-19. He let me send his Three Kings to the parish and beyond as an Advent Sunday school activity – the magi on a journey to unknown places, bringing gifts of beauty and hope.

Tom didn’t have to be generous, but he was. Tom didn’t have to gladden the hearts of others with his talents, but he did. The world is better for Tom’s presence, and I am better for spending time in his presence.

 Three Kings by Tom Nordquist

Blessings and Peace, and Grateful Thanks for you, Tom.