The young woman and her friends have a rare opportunity. They’re invited to see something few have ever seen. Something so valuable, it’s priceless.

All worries cease. All thoughts, too, as she sees it. She literally stops in mid-step, frozen in time. As if savoring each second will make life literally stand still. It’s so beautiful. A shimmering red with hints of blue and green, reminding others of the ocean and the prairie at the same time. But the red, now that’s something to see.

For my family. For my friends. For my former friends. For my friends yet to be. For my acquaintances and for those I do not know. For my co-workers. For my former co-workers. For those who have no jobs.

I wish for you blue skies and warm, gentle breezes. I wish for you happy summer days that stretch out to eternity. I wish for you smooth sailing without a whisper of thunder or a lick of lightning. I wish for you calm days and restful nights. I wish for you the life you dream only when you are brave enough to dream it. I wish for you a life that makes you smile and warms all those around you.

“Surrender, Dorothy!”

That’s what the Wicked Witch of the West writes in the sky as Dorothy, Toto, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion are in the wonderful Emerald City in “The Wizard of Oz.” They’ve just finished being pampered at the Wash & Brush Up Company when they see the witch on her broom writing that message in the sky.

Surrender, Dorothy.

“‘And who is my neighbor?’”
Luke 10:29b

Piled high like a child’s fort made out of ordinary objects, it’s evidence of a life that’s been lived. A couch. Two chairs. An end table. Boxes.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.”

I Corinthians 13:4-5

Not everyone is happy around the holidays. Not everyone lives a life that could be a TV commercial for this “magical time of year.” Not everyone wants to see Christmas lights or decorate Christmas trees or hear the Christmas music.

A phrase came to me earlier this week. It  glided in on a whisper so delicate I almost  didn’t notice. It landed lightly on my cheek in the area between a wink and a smile. In that middle-ness that exists in less time than the initial escape of air that will become the flap of a  butterfly’s wings. Between an “ahhh” and a “sigh.”