I am not terribly clumsy and yet I have a way of breaking things. Now, I am not the artist that my cousin Stan was. When we were boys, I dreaded when Stan, who was a few years younger than I, came to our house because he would want to play with my toys and any toy that Stan touched broke.
We had just spent a fun night with good friends and made a few new ones when it was time to head home. As we stood in the street saying our goodbyes, I saw an elderly woman walking by, curiously trying to understand why there were so many young Japanese and internationals in her neighborhood at ten o’clock.
I love the beach. I don’t go often, but when I do, I pay close attention. Engaging my senses, I take it all in. I smell the musty, fishy breeze, taste the salty air, feel the sand between my toes.
I’ve never been the strongest person in the room. There are many things that I simply cannot pick up. So as frustrating as it may be, I’ve learned not to rely on my own physical strength. But relying on God for other types of strength isn’t as easy.
How do people see? As we look at things, a stream of light reaches our eyes and falls onto special cells on the retina called photoreceptors. This visual information translated into a kind of code that only the brain can read.
This week marks the start of a new season on the church calendar. It is Advent, the time when Christians wait with hopeful expectation for the coming of Christ. As it so often does, this first Sunday of Advent—when we light the candle of hope on our wreaths—falls just a few days after Thanksgiving.