Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places, Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who held the world’s trauma in his arms. I spent six hours with trauma the day of the eclipse a few Saturdays ago, and three hours the night before. It was the first class of the “Trauma and Spiritual Care” course I am taking through July 2024 with San Francisco Theological Seminary, and when I pressed “leave” on my computer I felt exhausted and a bit depressed.  A dullness came over my spirit.  The darkening of the eclipse mirrored that of my soul.

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places, Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who showed the world what God’s reign looks like. A dime begins a life pattern. When I was four years old my mom would give me a dime each week to take to church school to place in the offering.  Since dad was the pastor and we lived right next to the church I wasn’t tempted to spend it on an ice cream cone—the detour was too great and mom would have found out, I’m sure. So, I would hold the dime in my hand waiting with anticipation ...