November 4, 2005

I wrote the below thoughts this afternoon in a brief email which I sent to a friend in Illinois. I came to �know� her through a personal serendipity. I don�t think either of us is sure just how it occurred.

One day I received a bright and cheery little devotional note in my �In Box�, signed by someone named �Eleanor�. I enjoyed its content, and I replied to the email, stating that although I didn�t have a clue as to who she was, I would enjoy the possibility of becoming acquainted.

What happened immediately following is a blur, but after a couple o f exchanges, we discovered that she and I had grown up in the same hometown, and had attended the same High School, she being about 2 or 3 years ahead of me. She told me her maiden name. It meant nothing to me. Neither was she familiar with mine.

To add to the tangled web, after continuing to correspond for several months or more, we discovered (again I don�t recall the details) that she is a very close friend, with an older couple in Louisville, who were lifelong friends of my now deceased parents. In fact she was involved in my parents friends� wedding. (Or the other way around.) Now, this family in Louisville has never been close to me, but to my parents. My parents did not own or use a computer. So they didn�t give my email address to anyone. They could have given my street address, but not email.

Evelyn lives in northeastern Illinois now, and of course, I am in southern California.

She and her husband are both ministers; she a chaplain at a hospital. I have been in ministry activities for many years, and on staff at a local church for a time. So we immediately struck a chord of shared interests. We have corresponded now for ..three or four years?�I am not sure.

And there is one other thing that I have not even told her.

She and her husband are ordained ministers of a particular denomination with which I have been somewhat unfamiliar. Last year, during the holiday season, I �bumped into� a friend whom I had not seen for years. We were shopping at COSTCO, which you may or may not be familiar with. She invited me to accompany her to a small neighborhood church, which �happened to be� almost within walking distance of my home. I have driven right past it for many years, paying it slight attention.

I had been �church shopping� for quite a while since my previous church home had a total shift in staff and direction.

That first Sunday as I sat in the service, I was almost overwhelmed with the awareness that washed over me, that I was �home�. This was where I belonged. It was such a feeling of inclusion and relief that I didn�t want to leave at close of service. I wanted to break for lunch and do it all over again. I still enjoy that feeling as I worship there.

Guess what Eleanor�if you are reading this�.it is YOUR church denomination.

Well, that lengthy saga has far more content than the little email I wrote today. But, it is just another small expression of my Autumn nostalgia.

�I am realizing that Autumn is the most nostalgic time of year for me. I suppose you are a little past autumn and into winter in your area. But the days have just begun to be sweater weather here with nighttime temps dipping into the 40�s.

In years past, I must have lived for autumn: leaf raking parties (remember when we could pile them up and burn them at the curb?) with friends over for roasting marshmallows and hot dogs; walking along Western Parkway on the way to catch the bus to school, and seeing the Red Oaks in brilliant color�.the ground covered with a bed of leaves. If heaven were to be only one season, I would surely pick the �area� that enjoyed eternal autumn. (I imagine it will be more like eternal Spring.) Then again, maybe�just maybe�.God has a �spot� planned just for our individual tastes. (I AM a dreamer.)

Winter is harsh. Summer is miserable. Spring is okay�but autumn is like heaven. Golden.�

I told you a while back�I go all the way around the bush, to tell a story. But if you stick with me, I will get to the point.

Thanks for hangin� in there with me.

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