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This morning a medieval painting of Mary wrestling with the Devil landed in my inbox. Apparently she had just handed the baby Jesus to the nearby angel; he was watching his mother in prayer pose. The caption: Was Christ clapping or praying? I propose both. Isn’t applause a wonderful prayer of thanksgiving after all?

I was reminded of the fantastic concert we saw last night at Benaroya Hall, “Jewish Diaspora.” Our 11-year-old friend Yoshi and his fiddle school were featured. I sprang to my feet a few times in elation, appreciating all the performers and their God-given talents.

And now, I’m remembering a few months ago at my friend’s funeral when his wife offered almost ten minutes of thanking each and every one of us for the difference we had made in their lives, especially toward the end as she was nursing and loving him. Her words were as prayerful as anything else in the service.

Many of you know this business of aging is not for the faint of heart. When Rob had a cystectomy five years ago, none of the medical folks would have bet on his longevity. And look, we’ve enjoyed another half decade together. And another example: my mother, at 96, lives in an Adult Family Home near us. We are grateful for her caregivers and cheery attitude every day even as her light fades.

So my word for 2025? Thanksgiving!

We’re glad that Clarke and Carolina traveled here from their respective homes in Durango, CO and Concrete, WA for a week of festivities. Mom joined us for brunch on Christmas Eve. Reid Family Christmas was a waffle buffet and book exchange here on Boxing Day. How could we ask for more?

We hope the Christmas season is marvelous for you too with many reasons to be grateful.

Love,

Penny (and Editor, Rob)

Today is Clarke’s birthday, thus my first birthing day. How wonderful to be up early and find that today’s Advent chocolate is a drum; quite appropriate because Clarke is a professional musician.

Plus I found a rose blooming on Rob’s trellis, in mid-December no less. Wow!

Sitting here by the fire under the twinkling Christmas tree lights, convincing myself that I am likely to notice more synchronicities today. I suspect/pray/imagine this from now on.

Recently I saw local government operate well. After sitting at a standstill on the freeway for an hour behind a reportedly 30- car pile up, a man in a bright yellow neon jacket came up to our car and told me to turn around. I replied somewhat incredulously and suspiciously, “Who are you?” We had finished Wordle and Connections. We had listened to several plays of the football game. And caught each other up on the well-being of our loved ones. We were ready for some progress and/or at least the next diversion. Still this possibility seemed askance—deliberately drive north on south I-5?! It was a bit surreal, like a game, Sim-City maybe.

But car-by-car, we began to unlock the grid. One-by-one we collectively moved several hundred cars out of the huddle. It’s amazing to me that we could each do our part to unglue this puzzle and then, relatively quickly, move on with our lives. We corrected a mistake that had effected many, with no guns required. Just a simple peaceable direction, “Turn around.”

Maybe it’s naive to think any other problem can be solved this way. But that day I saw an example. Unexpectedly a quagmire grew and, just as unexpectedly, it was resolved. I am left thinking it is a-ok to hope for the best in other government situations. Especially when the alternative seems malevolent and so very stuck.

During Morning Prayer today, I was Voice of the People. I had prayed last night that God would wake me (or not) in time for the community’s meditations together (I was tired of my alarm sounding at 7 during the middle of a luscious dream). I arrived in time for flat church; say no more.

Well, a wee bit more….

Early during our pilgrimage, seemingly long ago, I had the chance to lunch with Peri, our Atlanta-based imbedded tour guide.

I was excited when I realized I could treat her to lunch, then immediately dismayed when I also realized my wallet was not in my purse. Instead I was embarrassed to ask her to front me. Apparently, her first concern was that I stay relaxed enough not to spin out on her, which would have certainly been an option in that moment. We called the bus driver first and had him check every crack and crevice in the bus…maybe I had misplaced it there. But no such luck.

I had not put cash in separate bags like I usually do so started thinking of blessed friends on the trip who knew I was an ok risk for a loan. When I told Peri I had an albeit-ragged copy of my passport in my suitcase, she said “Oh, no problem, that i.d. will get you home. “ Yeah, right. Still her confidence soothed me.

Long, wild story short: When we were waiting for the bus after lunch, my husband called from Seattle to say an Irene had phoned from the Carter Center where we had been that morning. My wallet had been found in the rose garden and she had it.

I was back in Money and Identification Land.

I share this story of Grace (and privilege) to describe Peri Frances. If you have the chance to travel anywhere with her, run to sign up! She is remarkably organized, knowledgeable, and fun. She is a business owner of great warmth and patience.

I could not be more grateful for her time and attention.