Sabbatical Journal, Day Twenty-Seven

  DAY TWENTY-SEVEN

            I thought I heard thunder last night during the night when I awoke from sleep briefly, but now I think it was the strong north winds that had moved in with the cold front.  The strong winds are still blowing this morning, winds of tropical storm strength most likely, bringing waves that are worthy of surfers on the West Coast of the US.  The tide is at low tide right now so the rocks in the bay are revealed but at high tide they are completely covered by the waters of the bay. 

            A cold north wind is blowing.  The temperature is 60 but it feels more like 45 with the wind blowing furiously.  When the conditions are like this, the bay seems more like the wide open ocean which it is since the Bay of Fundy empties into the Atlantic.  The sun is shining brightly after a cloudy start but the sun’s rays are not enough to warm up the air as the wind batters about everything that is not tied down. 

            There are two days left here including today and the plan is not to venture too far away but to get out into the country one final time to catch glimpses of the autumn colors which are beginning to show.  There is a country road that runs almost parallel to Hwy 1 and we have not driven it very far so we thought we would explore it a bit more.  It connects to others roads we have traveled twice which are dotted with dairy farms and apple orchards.  Communities with lovely names like Paradise and Clarence are along the way, communities with no visible businesses but with little stands here and there advertising vegetables and fruits for sale at houses along the way. 

            We have eaten most of the fresh vegetables we had bought to cook with so we are at a place where we do not want to buy many more as our days here are numbered.  We may buy some green onions to go along with the remainder of a butternut squash we used a few days ago and the rest has been in the fridge waiting to be used in a pasta dish.   We have fresh basil, tomatoes, and the squash so it should be good sautéed together with the onions and a bit of cheese.  We have two kinds of fish in the freezer to be used too so there is the core of two dinners which is about how many we have left to prepare at the cottage before leaving. 

            What we are experiencing is called “in between time.”  We all experience such times in life.  It is not time to go yet but the time is so limited where we are that we do not know what to do to pass the time before we go.  So, you have to be creative and use your time wisely. 

            When I was a school teacher, the day before a holiday or the last day of school was like that.  Some teachers allowed their students to have a “free day” with nothing planned for them to do to use the time before leaving.  Those teachers usually had a pretty rough day as students would create things to do that would usually be things that the teacher would not want them to do.  That was not always the case but the motto that I lived by on that day was, “Busy people are happy people.”  So, I usually had projects for students to do to keep them busy during the day so that all our lives would be happy ones. 

            In between time can come for us in other ways besides preparing for travel.  Waiting for treatment for a disease, waiting at the bedside of a sick one, preparing for a test or medical exam, sitting by the phone to hear about a job offer, thinking about a new house to purchase for a move-- All are things that happen normally in life that are part of in between time. 

            Sometimes the anticipation or excitement of what is to come helps us to wait.  Sometimes it can be heart wrenching though.  A part of us wants to go forward but   another part tells us to wait.  Living useful meaningful lives during times of waiting becomes the purpose that we are looking for in life. 

            When I filled in report cards for students as a teacher, there was a box on some of them that said, “Uses time wisely.”  It was up to the teacher to decide if a check filled in that box or not.  The teacher could observe who used time wisely and who did not over the course of the grading period. 

            We all have to use our time wisely as we wait during in between times which fill up many periods of our lives.  We can trust God to lead us to make good decisions so that our time will truly be used wisely and we will live meaningful, useful lives. 

            “Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time…” (Ephesians 5:15-16)

Sabbatical Journal, Day Twenty-Six

DAY TWENTY-SIX

            The day began with clouds and a bit of fog covering the area, with the sun unable to break through it.  Then, rain began and gently fell for about a half hour.  As it stopped, the sun began to try to shine but then just as it brightened the day, suddenly fog rolled in from across the bay bringing the clouds again.  Such is life by the seashore.  It can change rapidly.  The ocean currents seem to be in charge of the weather.  The clouds come and go during the day even as the tides change. 

            Today is a day that we will stay close to our cottage.  We decided we need a day to just read, write, and relax since soon we will begin our journey back home.  We have been going here and there on many days and we have been trying to incorporate days to rest mixed in with the busy days. 

            We may venture across Parker’s Mountain this evening to have dinner out in Annapolis Royal at a restaurant near the river that we have seen.  We have been cooking our food most of the time we have been here and thought we would have one more meal out before going home.  There is a little café near the river run by some Austrian people.  It was recommended to us by a local person so we thought we would give it a try. 

            There is a boardwalk built by the river that runs from the library to the dock and it runs by the back of this café.  They have an outdoor dining area built near the boardwalk.  It is a pleasant place to sit and look at the river and the wildlife and enjoy a meal.  We have walked on the boardwalk and found it to be a very nice experience. 

            I continue to read, having finished reading six books so far and still reading each morning and afternoon.  I am currently reading The Shoes of Van Gogh by Cliff Edwards.  It is an examination of the artwork of Van Gogh from a spiritual viewpoint.  It explains much about the life of the artist and how his artwork revealed a spiritual side that is not often seen.  I will report on it later in more detail. 

            I often think about Jesus’ words in the Gospel of Matthew where he invites all who are weary to come to him.  I had an enlightened moment concerning this verse when I was a young adult.  I had struggled with my own sense of self-worth for years and thought I was not worthy of anything that God would offer me.  I had been taught that you had to be perfect for God to love you and I knew that I was far from perfect.  So, I had just about given up on trying to earn God’s love (which is what it is if you think that you can be perfect enough for God to love you) when, as I read this passage from Matthew that God seemed to speak to me words of assurance. 

            “Come to me, all you that are weary and carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

(Matthew 11:28-30)

            It was as if God said to me that all that was needed to come to God was to be tired.  I knew I was tired in so many ways and wanted rest for my soul.  It was at that point that I told God exactly those words and it was as if a light went on in my head and my burden of guilt was lifted.  I knew I could never be perfect and God does not expect perfection of me, simply trying to live in an honest, loving way, trying to serve God and my neighbor in all that I do.  I can do that, even if it does not always work out to be the most perfect way of doing things.    

Sabbatical Journal, Day Twenty-Five

DAY TWENTY-FIVE

            Today is Market Day at Kentville again, about 50 miles up the Annapolis Valley—which is the large agricultural area of Nova Scotia.  More produce is grown, fruit trees cover the area, berry bushes abound.  We have gone there two times already (it is held every Wednesday in downtown Kentville) so this was the last time for us to go there for this trip. 

            We drove there using the old road—Highway 1—instead of the faster moving freeway-like 101.  The road takes you through small towns along the way that have beautiful old homes dating back into the early 1900s or earlier.  There are many homes for sale, even some of the very beautiful ones.  The road also passes through some of those communities that bear only a name but nothing else.  It is a pleasant drive mostly at 55 mph or less but on a sunny day with little else to do it is nice to just drive along slowly and look at what is along the road. 

            The market is held downtown on a parking lot surrounded by other existing businesses.  Farmers bring their produce.  Crafts persons bring what they have made—soap, woodwork products, things that whirl in the wind, and other things that catch the eye.  Prepared foods are offered by part time restaurateurs.  Bakers bring their breads and pastries.  Sometimes there is music provided by a couple of musicians playing guitar and banjo or fiddle. 

            The atmosphere is almost fair-like with people visiting and laughing, stopping to look at the many booths, sampling some of the food products, buying things to put in their shopping bags.  In weeks past we have bought vegetables and bread from a nice couple who seem to be of the Mennonite faith.  She wears a bonnet and a long dress with an apron.  He wears plain gray clothing most times.  They grow and sell green beans, onions, garlic, and blueberries.  She makes several kinds of bread—we love the oatmeal molasses bread and have bought a loaf of it each time we have been there. 

            Doris bought a sarong from a woman who makes them for sale at the market.  The woman is named Joyce and she has chatted with us each time we have been there.  Two weeks ago when we were talking to her she told us that she is Irish and she comes from Cape Breton Island.  She told us about the Red Shoe Pub (which we intended to visit when we were there) and about the singers called the Rankins who own it.  Then she began to sing an Irish folksong to us as we all stood there in the market.  She has a lovely voice and the song was a slow sad song about someone telling someone else goodbye.  She laughed when she stopped and apologized for her voice not being good, which I told her she was mistaken.  She sang beautifully. 

            We also met a woman who sells homemade skin care products that contain emu oil.  She calls herself Nana and that is on her label.  She was intrigued by our being from Texas and said her husband is a bluegrass singer and had been to Texas.  She said she knew someone by the same name as a woman Doris taught with years ago.  We still have to investigate if it is the same person when we get home. 

            Everyone at the market who met Bo loved him.  Bo was the center of attention many times, drawing people to leave their booths and come over to look at him and ask about him.  People cannot believe that he is 9 years old since he looks very puppy like. 

            The markets happen in many towns in this area weekly during the summer months.  We will go to the Annapolis Royal market this Saturday for the last time before we leave on Sunday to begin our journey back to Texas.  We really do not go to them looking for specific items but we usually find things that we enjoy seeing or tasting or learning about.  There is a community spirit there.  Even if one buys little or nothing, it is the experience of being a part of it that brings some meaning to life. 

            Being part of the market is similar to being part of the religious community.  When we all gather to share a common experience, we belong to a higher purpose than we do alone.  We share in the experience of worship, of course, breaking bread and drinking wine and singing and listening and praying.  We share in the lives of one another as we share joys and concerns together and support each other in myriad ways.  The shared experience happens in many avenues of life but in the Christian community it has a purpose and meaning that transcends all the other experiences in life. 

            Each of us is important to the whole that we call the Body of Christ.  Each of us has a purpose that is important to the Body as a whole and if a member of it is absent then it is not complete.  What each person contributes is unique and cannot be provided by others in the same exact manner even if someone else does what is needed to be done.  The Body cannot function well unless all its parts are working in good order and are doing the jobs they are designed to do.  Each part of the Body of Christ must be present in order for it to be complete.  That is one reason why we miss individuals when they are not present for worship and work that needs to be done.  Each one is needed and necessary. 

            “For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ.  For in the One Spirit we are all baptized together into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free—and we were all made to drink of one Spirit.” (I Corinthians 12:12-13)   

Sabbatical Journal, Day Twenty-Four

DAY TWENTY-FOUR

            One of our favorite episodes of the British comedy Keeping Up Appearances was when Hyacinth decided that she wanted to host a “riparian picnic”.  When she invited her guests to join her and Richard on the picnic, they all had to look up the word “riparian” to find out its meaning.  They found out that the picnic would happen by a river since the word means “by or near a river”.   The result of the picnic near the river was that Hyacinth and Richard ended up getting drenched in the river while the guests laughed about the ending. 

            We decided to have a riparian picnic of our own today.  We packed a lunch of smoked fish (haddock), potato salad, bread, mayonnaise, and cookies with some iced tea and drove to a little roadside park we had seen when we were driving in the area last weekend.  It is a place called Hebb’s Landing and it is by the side of the Annapolis River.  There is a boat launch there and several places for picnics to happen.  We chose a covered one by the side of the river.  The wind was blowing briskly but the sun was shining brightly so we anchored down our paper plates with heavier objects and began the picnic, putting mayonnaise on bread and scooping up potato salad and munching happily as we looked up the beautiful blue water of the river running nearby. 

            One could not have asked for a more beautiful and tranquil scene for having a picnic or for any other reason.  Birds swam in the water.  Wildflowers grew in the grasses in our view.  We were thankful to be there enjoying this special moment together. 

            God gives us special moments in life to enjoy.  Sometimes they are planned, as was this picnic and there are other times when the moments just happen and we can bask in the beauty, serenity, and love of the place and the people we may share the moments with. 

            Our days in Nova Scotia are winding down.  Soon we will leave the cool breezes of the Bay of Fundy to return home to the hot winds of our Texas summer as they give way to the hint of autumn in the air that we hope will come quickly.  Even as we enjoy each of the remaining days here with the natural beauty and the pleasant feeling air, we will give thanks for the blessings of being able to share this together with one another.  We will also give thanks to God for allowing us to enjoy these blessings and for the moments in which we live. 

            “The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace. “  (Numbers 6:24-26)

Sabbatical Journal, Day Twenty-Three

DAY TWENTY-THREE

            Monday of our last week in Nova Scotia---chore day, the need to wash clothes has come again so we are preparing for a trip to Digby to go to the Laundromat.  While we are there we plan to browse their lineup of gift shops and see what they may have that we have not seen while here.  We seem to have a need to find some reminders of our time here, maybe something nautical in nature since that is the theme of this area.  I am finding boats of all kinds to be of interest and would like to find something to bring home that would remind me of Parker’s Cove and the fishing industry that is of great importance here.

            I have almost finished reading my fifth book, Strange Glory: A Life of Dietrich Bonhoeffer by Charles Marsh.  It is a new biography of the German theologian that has just come out in print.  I have known a small amount about Bonhoeffer dating back to my days in seminary but have not known a great deal about him so I wanted to read more and this new biography has been receiving good reviews. 

            Bonhoeffer is a complex person.  Reared in an affluent German family, his father a successful psychiatrist and his mother a socialite, with servants to care for the needs of all family members, he enjoyed an upbringing with all the advantages of the upper echelon of German society of the early part of the 20^th century.  Neither of his parents was extremely religious and church attendance was rare for him but he somehow developed an interest in spirituality at an early age and declared at the age of 15 that he wanted to become a theologian.  His parents neither encouraged or discouraged his decision and sent him to an excellent school in preparation for this career decision.

            He completed his advanced educational training with high marks and moved on to seminary, which was a very complex and complicated undertaking in his time.  Before he had finished his seminary education, he had written two doctoral dissertations and had received his PhD in theology and had set his sights on a professorship at the University of Berlin. 

            In order to fulfill the requirements for being licensed as a pastor in addition to receiving his degree, he had to work in a church setting for a year.  He chose to work in a lower socioeconomic neighborhood in Berlin with youth who had little religious training.  At first he found this difficult but then he began to teach them Bible stories that they had never heard and to incorporate music and drama into his work and won them over to wanting to know more about the Christian life. 

            This experience opened the door to the desire in his life to be a pastor and, instead of immediately pursuing a professorship at the university, Bonhoeffer served as assistant to a pastor at a German Lutheran Church in Barcelona, Spain where many expatriates lived.  He enjoyed being in Spain and found the time to travel to Italy and the Middle East while there.  He had a great love for travel and took every opportunity to go places about which he had read as a youth. 

            The time he spent in Barcelona sparked his interest in the Roman Catholic faith especially after his trip to Rome and his worship experiences at some of the great cathedrals in Rome, including St. Peter’s Basilica in Vatican City.  Bonhoeffer developed a great love for the monastic way of life which would become the basis for the way the Confessing Movement would be structured later in his life. 

            As Germany began to change with the imposition of Nazi rule under Adolph Hitler, Bonhoeffer became aware that he could no longer function as a pastor in the German Lutheran Church and he began a dissident church called the Confessing Church.  At first it was tolerated by the Nazis but soon they began to order more and more restrictions on religious freedoms for Germans and all they ruled in the Third Reich.  Bonhoeffer’s Confessing Church was outlawed and anyone who participated in it could be charged with treason and arrested.  Hitler declared himself the new Messiah and demanded worship for him and his rule. 

            Friends that Bonhoeffer had made in the United States during a visit to Union Theological Seminary in New York in the early 1930s encouraged him to move to America to avoid being arrested and he did make a visit to New York in 1939 but felt so homesick that he could not stay so he returned to Germany to face whatever would happen there alongside his German friends who were being forced to serve in the military. 

            Bonhoeffer joined the underground movement and became a double spy, working for an agency where he was supposed to report on what was going on in England and the United States but at the same time he was reporting to the underground what he would learn about the Nazi plans during the war.  Soon, he was caught up in a plan to assassinate Hitler and that would eventually lead to his arrest and execution just before the war ended. 

            Bonhoeffer is widely known as the author of the book The Cost of Discipleship which came about as a result of his experiences and suffering.  He examined the biblical texts with Jesus’ words to “take up your cross, and follow me” and tried to explain what that means in our daily lives.  He was very critical of Americans when he visited the US twice and declared that they had never experienced a Reformation such as Germany had with Luther.  He thought of Americans as enjoying an individualism in religious thought and life that did not connect with his idea of community which he had written about in his doctoral dissertation.  As life became harder and harder for him in his native Germany, he made the decision to know the sufferings of his fellow Germans in a personal way rather than to run away to the US and avoid it all.  That decision cost him his life but his years in prison before his death left a legacy of writings that ask the modern reader to reflect upon what the cost of discipleship is for us in our world.  Is our religious or Christian experience one that is very individualistic or do we feel connected to the worldwide Christian community and its sufferings?  What does it mean to consider a “cost” to Christian discipleship today or is there a cost at all to modern American Christians?  What do Jesus’ words from Mark mean to us today as we consider them? 

            “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.  For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel will save it.”

 (Mark 7:34-35)      

Sabbatical Journal, Day Twenty-Two

DAY TWENTY-TWO

            Lately there has been a blue heron staying around the harbor area in Parker’s Cove.  It was here this morning early and it is back this evening near dusk.  It has been seen in the vicinity on several days.  It is a tall graceful bird with a long neck, and gray in color.  It is mainly looking around through the seaweed that covers the rocks after the tide goes out.  One time I saw it with a fish in its mouth so it has found some success in its search for food here. 

            This is Sunday so we went to the same United Church of Canada congregation with whom we had worshiped two weeks ago, the one in Annapolis Royal.  The Canadians as a whole are a bit more reserved than Americans and Nova Scotians are even more so.  So, it is difficult to judge them as to being friendly or not friendly to visitors in worship.  We had a few people talk to us and several come to us during the passing of the peace to greet us. 

            The pastor does not greet people at the door after worship as we do in our church.  She retreats to the parlor where coffee and cakes were being served, giving an invitation to join her in there at the end of the worship service.  That may be their custom rather than the one we are accustomed to in our congregation.  We did not stay for the coffee time afterwards though, making an exit through the rear doors instead. 

            The service as a whole was very good and meaningful.  Doris and I knew all the hymns sung today although they sung some responses and the Lord’s Prayer to a tune we did not know.  The pastor read her text for her sermon, which was one of the parables of Jesus, and then did not preach on it.  Instead, she talked about looking at works of art as examples of parables.  She had two pictures of paintings projected on the wall in the sanctuary and used them as examples of art work that teach a lesson.  I was a bit disappointed that she did not preach on the scripture she read since I have preached on it and would have enjoyed hearing her interpretation of it.  Anyway, we enjoyed going to worship and felt uplifted by the experience as a whole. 

            As I said on an earlier Sunday, it is valuable for me to be a visitor in worship now and then so I can understand how someone who is new to a congregation feels.  I think it helps all of us to be the “new person” now and then in a social setting so we can understand the feelings of others and try to reach out to them when they are visiting in our church. 

            We had a rather quiet and restful day the remainder of our day.  The area around the wharf and the campground across from it was very quiet with no one visiting either area.  We sat on the porch a while and had coffee and cookies and finally went inside to prepare dinner.  It has been a very good Sabbath day. 

            “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and trust shall be your strength.”  (Isaiah 30:15b,c)

Sabbatical Journal, Days Twenty and Twenty-One

DAYS TWENTY AND TWENTY-ONE

            We took an excursion to Cape Breton Island which required spending a night away from the cottage.  Cape Breton Island is the northernmost part of Nova Scotia and since we are staying almost at the southern end of it then we had to drive about six hours to reach the area where we would spend the night.   Cape Breton Island is the Celtic center of Nova Scotia where the Scots and Irish settled when they came to Nova Scotia in the 1700s.  It is an island so there is a causeway that connects it to the rest of Nova Scotia. 

            So, on Friday morning we had breakfast and got ready and packed a few things for an overnight stay and began our drive.  Nova Scotia has a series of major roads that we Americans may think of as “freeways” but they are not freeways in the same sense as the roads for which we use this term.  There are stretches where the roads are four lane roads with higher speeds of 60-70 mph but suddenly those lanes will end and you will be driving on a two lane road with a top speed of 55 mph or less.  In addition, these major roads do not go everywhere around the province so to get across the mid-section of Nova Scotia one either has to get off on two lane slower traveled roads that are generally not in top condition or one has to stay on the freeway roads and go south nearly to Halifax and then double back and go north again ending up straight across from where the road went south that one just left.  We did both things on this trip and neither were satisfying, travel wise. 

            Anyway, we drove from about 9:30 a.m. to 3:00 p.m., taking times for gas stops, lunch, and other necessary stops and reached our motel in Whycocomagh (which is a First Nation word- people that we call Native Americans are called First Nation in Canada) to check in.  The clerk at the motel was very friendly and when she heard we planned on going to the Red Shoe Pub in Mabou that night to hear Celtic Music, she guided us into going instead to the town of Baddeck, just north of there to attend a Ceilidh (pronounced “kay-lee) that would begin at 7:30 instead of driving to Mabou in the rain around curvy roads for the music that would begin at 9 pm.  We thought that sounded better as we do not like to be up to midnight when the 9 pm show ended and we did not want to drive over the curvy road s in the rain and in the dark. 

            So, we changed our plans and had dinner at a local café called Charlene’s which could have the best seafood chowder anywhere, at least that is what we thought.  Then, we drove to Baddeck and found the parish hall of St. Michael’s Church where the ceilidh would take place.  The hall was beginning to fill up already so we found our seats inside and waited for it to begin. 

            Just prior to beginning time, a younger petite woman came in carrying a case that contained a fiddle and took it out to begin warming up.  Another woman about the same age came in and began to open up the top and front of an upright piano and sat down on a swivel stool and began to warm up also.  At the time to start, the woman who had seated us came forward and introduced the musicians and they began the program that would last for two hours. 

            A “Ceilidh” is a traditional Celtic musical party that features fiddle and piano playing tunes that have been created, shared, and handed down from one generation to the next for at least two centuries.  The tunes, many of which came from the British Isles, have been preserved by musicians and taught to one another.  The fiddler named Jennifer has been studying this type of music for at least 20 years.  The pianist named Susan began playing when she was a youth and has continued learning throughout her life.

            Much of the music was lively—reels and jigs---to which volunteers danced.  The musicians and the audience tapped their feet to the music to keep time.  Some of the music was slow and soulful, achingly beautiful, with a haunting melody.  Susan played a tune she made up in honor of her grandmother named Rose and it was very beautiful but it has never been recorded or written down for publication.  When we heard it, she was playing it from memory as her hands moved across the piano. 

            The concert was educational as well as beautiful to hear.  The pair explained much about the Celtic Music of Cape Breton Island and how it has been preserved free from many of the outside influences that shaped similar music that originates in the Appalachian Mountains in the USA.  There the music received additions from others living in their area that made the music what it is today while the Cape Breton Celtic Music is much more similar to music that originated in Scotland and Ireland, some of which is still played in those countries today. 

            The presenters answered questions from the audience and performed some step dancing, each dancing while the other played their instrument.  Both were very adept at dancing in the manner that we have seen in programs such as Riverdance.  They were very entertaining as well as informative. 

            The evening was very meaningful to Doris and me because we each have family connections to the British Isles.  My Carpenters and Cogswells (my grandmother’s maiden name) have their roots in England.  The Conways (another line) have connections to Ireland.  Doris has at least one line of her genealogy that has roots in the British Isles also.  I connect with the music on a level that speaks to me when I hear the slow melancholy tunes such as were performed last night.  It is as if I can hear the ancestors calling to me through the notes that compose the tunes. 

            We returned to our motel and had a good night’s sleep and then drove to Mabou over those curvy, hilly roads that we did not drive the night before.  The countryside is beautiful with hills looking over lakes and rivers.  At one point we spotted two bald eagles near a river we passed.  One was flying down toward the water with his claws extended as if he was going to catch something that was in or near the water.  The green hills rose up from the roadside to form the mountains around us and I told Doris that the pioneers who came here from Ireland and Scotland probably felt at home as it must resemble some place there. 

            We had breakfast at the Shining Waters Eatery in Mabou, delicious food that included porridge bread, a specialty of the house.  Sipping some great coffee as we waited for our food, I looked around the room at all of the people who bore some resemblance to the Irish and Scottish people who settled this area.  I observed a few people with red hair, many with light colored hair, facial features that remind me of people I have seen while traveling in the UK, having conversations about modern things but with a lilt or intonation in the voice that made me think that their ancestry is still alive in this generation. 

            As I looked around and listened to them talk, I felt a connection in this place too.  In this ordinary moment in life, something spoke to me that was spiritual in nature as well as sentimental in consideration of the past.  I felt as if I belonged, even though I live in a different country.  A connection existed that extends beyond time and place. 

            St. Paul sensed that there is a spiritual connection between many of us and that the Spirit unites us in ways that are mysterious and not fully understood.  We share something in common in the same way that we share genetics with others with whom we have an ancestral connection.  He wrote to Timothy and reminded him of the connection he had through his familial line. 

            “I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you.  For this reason I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you through the laying on of my hands; for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.”  (II Timothy 1:5-7)