Where Grace Lives

I’m writing this morning from bright and sunny Los Angeles, where I’ve been since the day after Christmas.  I flew back with Tay, who calls this sprawling city home, and we’ve been enjoying our time together ever since.  

Here are some things I wish I could share with you in person:

• The sunshine.  It’s clear and bright and I’m super thankful I remembered to bring my sunglasses.  

• The ‘warm’ temperatures - you know, mid-high 60’s.  

• The fresh flowers and fruits and vegetables from the Farmer’s Market yesterday.  They were so beautiful, especially the Meyer Lemons, which always look so happy. 

I’m reminded that getting away is good for us in body and spirit.  I hope that every single pastor and church musician is doing some version of this right now.  We carry the hopes and fears of all the years, not to mention the expectations of others solidly on our shoulders all the time, and it’s doubly true in Advent and Christmas.  So, friends, turn off your phone, put on the vacation responder, ignore those who ask for meetings or visits or calls right now, even though they aren’t urgent and even though they can certainly wait (and even though you published your vacation dates and office closures).   And breathe.  And rest.  

And if you can, go someplace that will help you do this.  (A wave to my colleague who is in Hawaii and to one of  our church musicians who is frolicking in the snow in Vermont!)

Christmas was so hard without Bruce.  He embraced every single tradition I brought into our marriage and made them even better.   I might have additional reflection about that, but for now, I’m letting all of those feelings settle into place.  

I don’t anticipate New Year’s being as difficult.  Neither of us thought much of big NYE celebrations and eventually settled into a pattern of a nice (early) dinner - sometimes out, sometimes from our kitchen; a bit of reflection; and a loving wish to one another that the coming year would hold so much love.  2025 held a lot of love, but it was otherwise a terrible year.  I’m not sorry to see it go.

My inbox is starting to fill up with invitations to do things to make the 2026 version of me even: more fulfilled, thinner, healthier, more prosperous, happier, and more productive.  I should just work harder/smarter/longer/shorter, join the right gym, eat the right foods, find the right mindset, and take up the right habits.

 I’m tired just reading about it all.  

The truth is if I can move through this year in ways that honor who I am and honor those I encounter in the best way possible,  that will be enough.  And let me be clear: to honor one another does not mean to take on every request, every expectation, that others have of us.  To honor means that we hear one another and to hear one another we have to engage in honest and true conversation.  Usually that takes some bravery, too. 

As I look out the window at the palm trees and the sunshine, I am savoring this time apart and away while acknowledging that a return to my routines and responsibilities awaits.  And this is such a privilege in many ways.  I’m one of the lucky people who gets to engage in a vocation that I love.  I never take that for granted.  And I live in a lovely home and neighborhood.  And I am so lucky to have ALL of my children who are exceptionally supportive and loving.  Not to mention those two grandbabies who just make the world better.  And a host of marvelous friends.  And you. 

When I turn to look at 2026, I’m taking the wisdom of others with me.   

In her column today Kate Bowler shared the words of two others that have me thinking a bit about how to engage a new year:

Oliver Burkeman notes: the reward for efficiency is usually just more work.    And this has proven to be true.  I’ve created space in my life by being able to manage it well.  That space deserves to be filled with beauty and joy and delight and meaning and discovery.  Not more meetings. 

C.S. Lewis offers this perspective:  Never commit your happiness or your virtue to the future.   In other words, find the grace in the present.  

If 2025 had anything to teach me, it reminded me of that truth: we only have the now.  That’s it.  And that’s where grace lives.