Many years ago, when visiting a friend in Copenhagen, I’d gone off by myself intending to explore the art museum which, I was assured, was just a few blocks away.
My sister and I had neighboring farms on Cape Cod, each with a variety of animals, each with barns full of sweet straw to shelter these dear creatures.
On a clear day, if you look out the window of a plane or if you happen to be climbing a mountain, it’s obvious that the higher you go, the more visible becomes the land below you.
Several years ago when one of my children, a teenager at the time, went on a wilderness experience in the mountains with a group from summer camp, I learned a big lesson about a tiny little word.
I’d been praying about the issue of climate, and heat waves, when I read in the news that the Middle East has been experiencing weather in excess of 120 degrees Fahrenheit.
One snowy, very cold day I set out on a walk, and after a while, I sat down on the edge of the bluffs of the Mississippi River to enjoy a few minutes of prayerful time.
