Thank you for opening this email and reading along yet again or perhaps for the first time. Welcome!
In this issue, hope lives in the next two sections—Work/Leisure and Thought—which is rather appropriate if you really think about it. Please do keep reading.
On my blog this past week I wrote a post about the Fred Rogers documentary, Won’t You Be My Neighbor? One of the points was what he said in a special television appearance after 9/11 when he challenged his listeners to be about something big no matter how small it may seem:
“No matter what our particular job, especially in our world today, we all are called to be tikkun olam, repairers of creation. Thank you for whatever you do, wherever you are, to bring joy and life and hope and faith and pardon and love to your neighbor and to yourself.”
Read that phrase again: Repairers of creation.
I've recently subscribed to a new online publication called The Porch. Its tagline is: "A Slow Conversation About Beautiful and Difficult Things." Compelling yes? In a recent email introducing the current issue, editor Gareth Higgins wrote:
"To neither understate nor overstate the importance of the present moment: not now, more than ever, but perhaps for such a time as this. It may be a moment in which difficult things seem more present than many of us remember, but it is just a moment, and it's full of amazing possibility and goodness too. Even better: it's our moment, and we are privileged to do some work, take some risks, but also play well, for I think we were made to live fully, not to despair, and to know that while we may only see slightly over the mountain in front of us, we can also look back and see how far we have come."*
I love this paragraph so much and have thought about it repeatedly since first reading it, affirming it over and over.
You may remember that back in mid-August I made the offer of sending to readers rocks from the shore of Lake Superior that I had collected on a recent vacation. One of the readers who took me up on it recently sent me rocks that she had collected from St. Columba's Bay in Iona, Scotland, commonly known as a "holy" island. I put them on a shelf next to a chair where I often write because they remind me of something important. I like to think there are vibes of good will going back and forth with every email sent out by me then opened by you, with subsequent thoughts and actions back out into the world by each of us and all circling back again. The rocks coming back to me are a reminder of this. I hope my mention of it now is a reminder of all that you also set in motion every day. Tikkun olam.
May you be encouraged to work and play and share for such a time as this, repairing creation. As always, thank you for reading!
*Used with permission.
p.s. If you have a friend who might like this newsletter, please do pass it along.
[Photo: taken of some beautiful stitching on a pillow, not made by me.]