Yearly Archives


My town, your town, our town?

Glimmers February 14, 2021

Dear Friends,

My husband and I have been living in our town for 14 years. It’s a rural community in central Connecticut of 4, 381 souls, where we are blessed with lakes, wooded areas, and all four of Earth’s seasons. When we first moved here, we commuted – one to the north, the other to the south – for work in the outer world. Now we stay home, rooted even more firmly this past year.

But our town has been redefined, hasn’t it? The borders have moved to include family and friends only available through the computer screen. The life-changing pandemic touches friends on the Connecticut shoreline and a child I will never meet in Peru…in Oakland…in Lesotho…in Assisi. The tragedies of Covid-19 and systemic racism have upended our small-town image of community and asked us to consider the family of humankind.

That’s such a hard leap, such a demanding task. I am only one person, with one set of gifts and limitations. How can I, or any of us, meet the needs of others that increase exponentially?

Recently, I was reminded of another town, Grover’s Corners, where Emily and George Gibbs entered the mystery of life and death. Their story, so lovingly told by Thornton Wilder in the play, “Our Town,” includes this brief conversation between George and his younger sister, Rebecca.

Rebecca: I never told you about that letter Jane Crofut got from her minister when she was sick. He wrote Jane a letter and on the envelope the address was like this – it said Jane Crofut; The Crofut Farm; Grover’s Corners; Sutton County; New Hampshire; United States of America.

George: What’s funny about that?

Rebecca: But listen, it’s not finished – the United States of America; Continent of North America; Western Hemisphere; the Earth; the Solar System; The Universe; the Mind of God – that’s what it said on the envelope!

George: What do you know?

Rebecca: And the postman brought it just the same!

You, me, Jane Crofut, all of us live inside the Mind of God. We are, indeed, a family of humankind – the five fingered ones, as a wise woman described recently. We share this planet, its resources and its challenges. We share the great mystery of experiencing a single snowflake, while opening our hearts to a symphony of stars, the promise of life, the gift of Love.

On this day, traditionally set aside to celebrate love, let us deepen our trust in the “Love that passeth all understanding, that you might be filled with the fullness of God,” and join our hearts and minds as one.

with love, Lisa









Love’s Invitation

Glimmers January 17, 2021

Dear Friends,   

Six years ago, this month, I made a commitment to you. I made a commitment to myself, as well.

Each month, as I write from my heart, I reach out to your hearts, and share a story, an image, a message of hope. We are fellow travelers, at this moment in time. With God’s help, I choose to shine my unique light in this way. As Sue Monk Kidd reminds us in The Book of Longings, “Each of us must find a way to love the world.” It is my intention that by sharing a personal glimmer of hope, you and I might increase our connection in the universal realm of light and of love. It’s that simple and that profound, for I have every confidence in your light and your ways to love the world.

I’ve been aware of my Grief in response to the tragic and tumultuous times that surround us. The months of loss and chaos have accumulated, strained my reserves and have demanded new and deeper awareness of the gift of life. It isn’t easy, I often choose a path of distraction when I am overwhelmed by the losses through Covid, systemic racism and broken leadership. But denial and distraction don’t last. When I wake up to a new day, I have new choices. Today I listened to the bird’s morning chatter and gazed at the tree’s branches extending to the tiniest twig. I saw life.

On this new day, I think I’ll let Grief sit under the same blue sky that greets me. I think I’ll invite Grief to share a cup of tea, as I read the paper or get ready to fix dinner. I cannot chase away the losses that surround me, so I’ll ask Grief to guide me into a place of surrender, a place of trust in something greater than myself. This is how I will love the world today, as I make room for both sadness and hope to co-exist in my heart. 

I am grateful for our journey together. Our relationship invites me into that “soul place” that hears Love speak.

Blessings on this new day, Lisa