
These are the questions I am asking as I begin to review the tumultuous year of 2020. So many of us have been buffeted by the storm, nearly broken by its seemingly constant motion of conflicting energies and grief. We've felt old allegiances and traditions sorely test, or in some cases shattered beyond recognition. We've been asked by this terrible pandemic to alter the very fabric of our lives, the touchstones which have allowed us to remain human: human closeness, family celebrations, routines which ordered life, cancelled or postponed for fear of health and financial welfare. Where did we go to find safety and when did we know it was alright to step back out into this brave new world? 2021 approaches, I can still barely clear my head enough to see the forest for the trees.
So as I reflect, and 2021 approaches, I'm taking some wisdom from nature. I am contemplating three questions, and you are welcome to join me: Where do I find my refuge? Where have I silenced my own song, and why? When do I know I can sing again? I know these answers may come slowly, but I believe that the raging winds and crackling branches have swept away unnecessary things now to be counted as dross. Storms are like that. The dawn that rises may seem familiar, but it is filled with newness and possibility.








