Midlife Creative

I took my silent retreat from January 10-12th at Pacem in Terris, a Catholic retreat center in
Isanti, MN. Three people had told me about the place and I felt drawn to check it out.
When I began communicating with the retreat about coming, a few things struck me as
unique about how they operate. #1 – they do not to online bookings, you must make a
telephone call. #2 – during the phone call they told me that I would be receiving a couple
of videos a couple weeks in advance that I could watch to familiarize myself with the
grounds, what to bring, and where to go upon arriving. #3 – The woman on the phone also
told me that they would be prayerfully selecting which hermitage to place me in. She called me “a hermit” which was something I had never been called before. The name grew on me the more I learned about the practice of silent retreat.

When I arrived, I was handed a key that said “St Paul Hermit” I was placed in the
hermitage of St Paul. At first I thought maybe it was because they knew that I lived in St
Paul, but then I realized they were not given my address ahead of time. The Holy Spirit had
directed them in prayer to place me right where I belong. It was a special moment and I
felt seen by God so much that I laughed out loud.

There are no cars allowed on the property, so I got a ride with my luggage out to my
hermitage in the woods. It was a short walk (maybe ¼ mile) but I took the ride that was
offered instead of struggle with my heavy suitcase, bag, pillow and blanket. They provide a basket of bread and cheese but I decided to bring some extra food as well and an
aeropress and my own coffee grounds instead of using their instant folgers packets. Each
hermitage had a hot plate for heating up water and a gas lantern for light, but no electricity
or running water. My host helped me practice lighting the lamp and told me I could go
back to the main lodge if I needed to shower or to use the chapel, library, and workout
room, but to stay in my hermitage as much as possible because “That’s where God does
the work.” The only furniture in the room was a bed and a wooden rocking chair.

My host left after asking how she could be praying for me over the weekend. Then I found
myself alone and wondering about the next day and a half before me. With no phone or
computer to distract me, no cooking or dishes, and no work or kids’ activities to tend to, I
found myself looking at the clock a lot, in awe of how slow time passed. It was both
delightful and confusing. How could an hour feel like so much time?

I began by doing some journaling, telling God some of my fears and asking Him to speak to
me. Almost immediately, I found myself in tears. Sitting in the rocking chair, looking out
the window at the woods, God began to remind me of all the things I needed to hear. He showed me a picture of a child running to her parents’ bed after being awakened in a
thunderstorm. The child curled up beside the parent and fell asleep. That is how God
wants me to come to Him when I am afraid. I was led to write letters to my husband and
each of my children. The words poured onto the page with no effort. It was as if God was
writing the letters for me. It was a beautiful experience, and 2 hours passed quickly.
It began to get dark at 5pm and anytime the gas lantern was lit, the window needed to be
open to allow air flow in the cabin. Because of this, I found myself getting cold, so I went to
bed at 7pm. I slept for over 12 hours!

I woke up with a sore back from the rocking chair, but refreshed and ready for a morning walk in the woods. Saturday was the long day of silence, which hermits call “a desert day.” I brought along some watercolor paints and used them to do some creative prayer. I did the exercise “Looking at God looking at You” and painted some affirmation cards to reflect how God sees me. I also wrote a poem using the pantoum form of poetry. I found myself able to connect with God easiest when I was doing these creative activities or walking in the
woods. The silence did not feel difficult for me. I am used to being alone for long stretches
of time. What did feel strange was not having my phone to communicate with others. I
found myself wanting to take photos or send texts or check my social media. It was hard to
not have people around to share my experiences with. It forced me to talk to God. It was just the two of us, and there was something special about that because I knew it was something nobody else would ever experience exactly like me. Here is a poem I wrote during my time.

I am transformed in God’s presence
I am learning to relax
I am continually letting go
I am bringing my fears to Abba

I am learning to relax
My shadow self lives in a cage
I am bringing my fears to Abba
My authentic self is free to fly

My shadow self lives in a cage
I am continually letting go
My authentic self is free to fly
I am transformed in God’s presence

There are so many things I could say about what God showed me during the weekend, but
I will sum it up in a few sentences.

I am Anna, beloved daughter of God
A radiant and wise peacemaker who influences artists to create and play

My shadow self is overly serious and afraid of making mistakes. She has closed herself off
to possibilities and dreaming. She does not ask for much of anything. God challenged me – “Why don’t you ask me for anything?”

My true self is able to relax and laugh and not fear making mistakes. She is not caged in by
the need for approval from others. She knows who she is as God’s child. She sees herself
as free to FLY. My word of the year for 2025 is FLY.

As I entered the giant indoor amusement park of the Mall of America, I was
immediately bombarded by the noise, the bright lights, the squeals of children, and the
sound of rides. There was excitement in the air. It was a Saturday afternoon, and families
were there to make a memory together. I got the impression that people were determined to put the cares of everyday life on hold for a few hours to share some leisure time, finish the Christmas shopping, and maybe get that annual photo with Santa.

Whether it be a holiday tradition, a birthday celebration, or just an ordinary weekend leisure activity, it didn’t seem like money was an issue. Today was a day to forget how much things cost and go all out. I watched the same parents in line to buy tickets for the rides later
in line for the caricature drawings, facepainting, the arcade, and the food court.
Everything had a cost.
It must be adding up.
How could these families throw their hard-earned money (or credit card) on
a few hours of entertainment? I found myself judging their choices to spend frivolously on
their kids who didn’t seem to appreciate it nearly enough. One child cried, “I want ice
cream!” To that, the parent replied, “You want Everything!”

I tried to remember a time when I went to an amusement park like this as a child.
My Dad was a Christian school teacher, and my mom stayed at home with us seven kids.
We didn’t take vacations. We didn’t even go out to eat unless it was to Burger King where
we each got a burger from the value menu and all split a large order of fries, water cups all
around. Would I have even enjoyed a day at the Mall of America as a child? I certainly have
no desire to bring my kids on rides, get their face painted, or let them burn what little money we had on cheap stuffed animals pulled out of a glass box with a crane. I have a habit of adding up every penny in my mind and worrying about running out each month. This comes from a lifetime of wondering if we could make ends meet.

I’m super crabby about this, I quickly realize. I’m supposed to be feeling compassion for these people, but instead I’m falling into a downward spiral of judgmental thinking. I scold myself and try again. Maybe looking at peoples’ faces – into their eyes – will help me see them more clearly.

I watch a mom with iPhone poised and ready at the bottom of the log chute ride.
She is waiting for her kids to make the final plunge straight down into her view. She
wants to take a video and catch the looks on their faces, their screams, and the splashing
water as they finished the ride. She wants to make a memory that she can replay again
on the ordinary days when the adrenaline from today is gone. She works a lot and can’t remember the last time she had a day like this where she could focus on just being with her kids. As her kids come into view, her face lights up and her tired eyes shimmer with something that wasn’t there before.

I watch a young father holding his 18-month-old daughter, trying to keep her still enough for the caricature artist who is drawing their picture. His girlfriend has talked him into getting this picture drawn as a memory to keep of him and their baby at this age. She looks on in anticipation, waiting to see the final product. She hands Dad a bottle of milk to calm the child who is getting tired of sitting still. The mall was a favorite place to spend their days off. It was where they had met for their first date just two years ago. They had gotten a picture drawn by the same caricature artist on that very date. Now, they came back with their baby to get a similar piece made to hang next to the original.

I watch a couple of brothers with five kids between the two of them. They are at the arcade winning stuffed animals from the crane. They keep adding tickets, wanting everyone to go home a winner. They seem relaxed and happy and enjoying the challenge of the game. The crane is a family favorite because it was the one game the brothers used to play with their Dad when they were kids. Their families immigrated from Somalia in 1990 and their Dad died shortly after that when the boys were still in Elementary school. Coming to the mall and replaying this memory of something they used to do with their Dad helps them feel a little bit more connected to what they have lost and grateful to still have each other and their own kids who are growing up so quickly.

These are just snap shots from an observer; an outsider looking in. There are so many details I don’t know, but what I do see is the love in the caregivers’ eyes when they look at their kids. A love that would do anything to see the kids happy. A love that would move heaven and earth if it meant giving their child what they saw as “a good life”

My questions as a spiritual director for these caregivers would be: “What do these children mean to you? What are your hopes and dreams for them? What is God asking of you as their caregiver? What part of today at the mall held special meaning for you?

My prayer of blessing for these caregivers would be:
“Heavenly father, you delight in your children and long to give them good gifts. You are not
stingy or tight-fisted in how you display love, but generous. Your love overflows in a way
that may appear extravagant to the world that is watching. Just as the woman who
anointed Jesus with a costly perfume and washed his feet with her hair, you desire to lavish your children with love. I ask a blessing on the time these families have together today. I pray that these snap shots taken will not be here today and gone tomorrow, but will
become lasting memories. I pray that these children will grow up feeling safe and loved,
and if they don’t, I pray you would watch over them and lead them to a safe place of
belonging.”

This fall I began a two-year training program to become a certified spiritual director. The program is online and through an organization called Christos. When I first started, I assumed this training would be a tool for me to help others. I had no idea how transformational it would be for me personally. The two BIG things I am learning are:

To embrace silence

and

To set aside my own agenda.

Every morning, I sit in my living room chair with a candle lit and write in my journal a conversation with God. I tell him what I’m thinking about and then listen to see if I hear anything back. Prayer has become equal parts talking and listening, but I believe the amount of listening will increase as time goes by and soon I may not do much talking at all. I ask God what he thinks about me and the other people in my life. I ask him what he thinks about what is happening in the world. I read the Bible slowly and don’t seek to get answers from it or an application. I simply want to know God’s heart for me. I want to BE with God and allow that time with Him to change me. I’m beginning to see connections throughout my life. There are threads in my teaching life and family life and on my commute that all connect together in amazing ways that I cannot plan for. Life has become more restful and less hectic. I am doing the same amount of teaching, but it feels lighter somehow. It’s hard to explain the shift in me, but it is very noticeable to my husband. He says he hardly recognizes me; I’ve changed so much.

I don’t say these things to brag, but to simply recognize that spending time alone with God daily has been transformational and healing.

Let me tell you a little bit about the training program for those who are curious. There are about 50 students from around the U.S. and a few International. We meet weekly on Zoom. We alternate weeks meeting in a large group or small group. In large groups we discuss a presentation we have watched in advance or a book we have read. We have a required reading list of approximately one book every 2 weeks. The books and presentations we’ve covered so far (just to name a few) have been about solitude and silence, the dark night of the soul, stages of faith, body prayer, contemplative practices, the reformation, and church history. Each week as I sit in on the large groups and mostly listen, I am aware that this is a group of people that are joined by some common threads. Most of us have been walking with God for a very long time and are tired of church as we’ve known it. We are longing for something deeper. The writings of the desert fathers and mothers and those living a monastic life are appealing to us. We desire to explore new ways of praying and new ways of being in the world. There is also a desire to reach those who are tired of running on a hamster wheel of American church programming. We are drawn to mystery and questions are welcomed. We long for a rich community life and authentic shared experiences.

On the weeks we do small group, I meet with four others for group spiritual direction. One person brings a concern or burden before the group and then the rest of us listen prayerfully and ask questions, helping the presenter for that day to listen to the Holy Spirit. It’s much more than that, but that is a very simple description. One thing we are not allowed to do is give advice or examples from our own life. This helps to avoid rabbit trails or sharing opinions. It is very different than Bible studies or even therapy. The focus is the movement of the Spirit in and around the person’s life and recognizing how they hear God and recognize him in their daily encounters.

There is also a writing portion of the program. Each month we write a reflection on what we are learning about ourselves and what we are recognizing. There are also other papers to write which are all reflective and not graded or critiqued. Our most recent assignment was to go to a place with people and simply sit and observe for 2 hours and then write about your observations. I went to the Mall of America. The purpose of the writing is for each participant’s own noticing’s and personal growth.

A 36-hour silent retreat is built into the first year. My silent retreat will take place in January at a retreat center called Pacem in Terrace. I had 4 different people mention it to me within a short time and I took that as a sign to go there. I’ll be staying in a cabin alone and not speaking to anyone while I’m there except for the person who will greet me and pray for me when I arrive and when I leave. Setting aside any agenda of my own for that time, I’m very curious as to how it will go. I’ll probably sleep a lot and write in my journal. Maybe I’ll do some art or take walks if it’s not too cold.

If this whole spiritual direction thing is intriguing to you, I would love to talk with you more. I believe the second year will include more one-to-one appointments with individuals. These can be done in person or on zoom. Spiritual direction appointments can be especially helpful for those in a time of life transition, faith transition, disillusioned by faith, or experiencing grief.

Taken from a presentation I gave at the Summit Sister’s monthly women’s gathering at Summit Church in St Paul.

“Today I want to talk about my lifelong battle with fear and anxiety. God has been inviting me to move from a state of being asleep and fearful to a state of being awake and ready for anything. When we are afraid, we often react in a fight, flight, or freeze response. We handle our anxiety by running away and hiding, getting stuck and not knowing how to move forward, or by trying to remain in control at all costs. I have coped with anxiety in all three of these ways.

I grew up extremely shy and cautious. I quickly adopted that label for myself and disqualified myself from doing anything outwardly loud or crazy. I was an introvert who was happy taking up space in the background and filling a supporter role.

When I met my husband, I was attracted to his loud and boisterous personality. He was impulsive and always changing the plans at the last minute. I admired his free spirit and outgoing way with people. I had never given myself permission to try on this type of personality. I was a rule follower who never took any chances. When I was around him, he challenged me to step out of my comfort zone. We got married and lived together for our first 5 years in the small town of Morris, MN. Our life was pretty simple back then, and we didn’t have much to be afraid of. Back then, my biggest hurdles were making a phone call or introducing myself to a stranger. I had never driven on a freeway and the rent in our first apartment was less than $200 a month.

My anxiety really didn’t come alive until I got pregnant with my first child. I remember lying in bed at night wondering what the birth would be like. I became so fearful that I would lie awake for hours gripped with fear. This was the first time I remember not feeling in control.

Anxiety surfaced again whenever there were big changes or unknowns in my life. I’m going to share a few things that caused fear to rise up in me.

I was fearful when I had to have an emergency C-section instead of a natural birth like I had expected with my first child.

I was fearful when my infant was taken by ambulance twice after having febrile seizures.

I was fearful when we had to move out of our duplex in Minneapolis with our two young children and back in with my parents, because we couldn’t afford our rent at the time.

I was fearful that we would lose our next house again because of financial stress and job loss.

I was fearful, but then relieved, when one of my children was diagnosed with autism. All of the questions about why they were different than other kids their age started to make more sense.

I was fearful when my child told me they were gay and transgender. This was mostly because it was such a foreign concept to me at the time, and I didn’t know how I would tell my family.

I was fearful when several people close to me told me they didn’t believe in God anymore and were not interested in being a Christian or going to church. Since this was my whole world at the time, it shook me to the core and started me on a journey of questioning my own faith.

I was fearful when my husband and I experienced a rocky season in our marriage, and I wasn’t sure if we would make it through.

I am hoping you could relate to something on my list of life experiences. If you are older, your fears might include aging, dementia, loss of a spouse, health issues, and any other number of things I have yet to experience.

My question for God is: “When these fears and anxieties surface due to change and circumstances beyond our control, how do we stay “awake and fearless”? How do we not flee, freeze, or fight? Here are five things I have learned to do in these times of stress and change.

#1 – Breathing. It sounds simple, but deep breathing is such a life saver in these stressful times.

#2- Worship. Where do you feel closest to God? I love to spend time with God in nature by the water. Some people love music, or art, or exercise. Do the things that bring you delight as a form of worship.

#3 – Remembering. Remind yourself of God’s faithfulness in the past and all the things He has brought you through. He will do it again.

#4 – Speak God’s promises. Go back to those life verses and promises from God’s word that speak to you personally. Write these words out on little cards or somewhere you can see them often. Memorize these words or put them into a song.

#5 – Tell someone else about your struggle. It can be powerful to share your need with another. When I have spoken my need out loud to a trusted friend, it has sometimes been so powerful that I have felt an actual weight lift off my shoulders.

Taking the first step to do something new you are afraid of can be hard. One of the things God has been challenging me in personally is my fear of public speaking. A couple years ago, I told God that if I was given an invitation to speak publicly, I would say YES. My first yes was speaking on a podcast, then another podcast. After that came an invitation to speak in person to a piano teacher’s group. Then came the invitation to speak at this women’s gathering of Summit Sisters. As I was walking to church one day, God brought my attention to the letters above the doors at each of the church entrances. The smallest door was labeled door A. Then the next biggest door was door B. The front, public facing doors on the main street are door C. God reminded me that his invitation to me is only what He knows I am able to handle. He will take me step by step through the doors as I am ready. He will hold my hand as I walk through each door and give me everything I need in that moment. If God is calling you to step into something new that is unfamiliar or scary, your job is to walk through door A.

The final picture I want to leave you with is of a person being carried down a river on an inner tube. Instead of putting their feet down in order to slow themselves down and control their direction, I see God’s invitation to us being, “Lean back and look up and see where the river takes you. You can trust me”

Our summer has been pretty quiet and boring. Kind of like the summers I remember as a kid. On a good day, growing up in small town Minnesota, I would walk to the library two blocks from my house and come home with an armful of books, retreat to the couch and read, read, read while my siblings played kick ball in the front yard. They would ask me to join the team, but they didn’t try too hard because they knew the answer was always “No thanks”.

When I wasn’t reading, I was playing the piano. I played and played and played. It didn’t matter that the piano was the most out of tune instrument on earth. Any piece of music I could find, I played. When I discovered chords, I played worship music and began to sing and play at church. I spent hours at that piano. In high school, I made a flyer on an 8 1/2 x 11 piece of white paper in Times New Roman Font declaring myself a piano teacher. Almost instantly, I found myself with about 10 students. This began what I never imagined would be a lifetime career path.

Fast forward to now…

The summer has been filled with lots of daily walks. We mostly walk around the Summit neighborhood of St Paul. I love looking at all the historic homes and beautiful flowers. Ivy, age 10, says when asked about taking walks, “I’m more of an indoor person”. Malia, age 13, says “Walks are good to get the body moving and clear the mind. I always feel better after taking a walk”.

My kids are not piano players and they throw a fit if I mention the library (maybe more of Mark’s kids in that way). Our two oldest kids were into theater and art. Our two younger kids have somehow become obsessed with sports. Both Malia and Ivy play tennis and volleyball and Ivy plays soccer.

This week we celebrated Ivy’s 1st place tennis tournament win at the SPUT summer carnival. She received a medal at the awards program. Tennis has been a great place to reconnect with some of my mom friends that I’ve met throughout the years. When Ivy was in preschool, we went to story time at the West 7th library every week and we always played with the same families each week. One of those families was in tennis this year. Another friend from Global Arts Plus, Ivy’s old school, also played. Coming back and seeing these mom friends again was such a sweet reminder of those early days when park dates and library storytime’s filled our mornings. I’ve always loved gathering with other families. When Ivy and Malia were young, I organized neighborhood park days, led a Moms of Preschoolers group, and joined ECFE. Being a mom was my LIFE. It was the same when Elliot and Tabby were young. My mom friends and I in Morris, MN held holiday themed parties for our kids, played at the Eastside park, and walked down the middle of the street hunting for garage sales with Diet Cokes in hand.

This week as I was coming back from a gathering at the Highland Pool with a couple of moms and their kids, Malia said to me “Mom, you better soak up these playdates where you get to stay with the kids because they aren’t going to last much longer.” Oh, Malia…you speak the truth.

These days of parenting young kids go by so quickly. I know my mom would feel similarly as she looks back on raising 7 kids to adulthood. We all gathered this past weekend at a family cabin to be together. It was a good reminder to me that every phase is beautiful. My mom is now in the Grandma phase and seeing her kids become parents themselves; another chapter that is sweet in its own way. I can’t begin to imagine where Mark and I will be 10 years from now. It’s a good reminder to make every day count.

Today I took a walk near Minnehaha Falls. As I watched the water make its way over rocks and fallen tree branches, under bridges and around bends, gradually making its way downstream and out into the mighty Mississippi River, I thought about how the course of the stream is like life.
Our spiritual lives sometimes feel slow and stagnant and other times flow with a powerful momentum.

There are often obstacles in our way that change our course, slow us down, or block the path we need to go. Even so, the need to move along toward our destiny is built into our core and pushes us forward. We are made for a purpose and God is intent on getting us where we need to be.

I have been meeting with a spiritual director regularly for about 6 years now. What is a spiritual director? It is a person trained in listening and asking questions. They are a companion on your spiritual journey. Every month, my director asks me to share what’s been happening in my life and then asks me questions and helps me tune into what God has been speaking to me. She takes notes and refers back to them each time we get together. It is a real gift to have an attentive companion reminding me of things I have said or learned over the course of months and years of my life. My spiritual director keeps everything in our meetings confidential and holds space for me to wrestle with God and to have more questions than answers sometimes.

As I have met with my spiritual director over time, I’ve realized that we have much in common and many of the gifts she has, I have as well. I started writing in my journal, “God, if you want me to become a spiritual director, show me when it is the right time.”

Almost the next day after writing that, I was driving to a meeting with a piano teacher friend and she mentioned that she was going to meet with her spiritual director that day. Since this is not an everyday thing, I immediately paid attention. She said she was considering being trained as a spiritual director. I said, “NO WAY! ME TOO!” I asked her where she went for direction; and she said she met with a Nun at St Thomas More Catholic Church in St Paul. “That’s where my kids go to school! That’s a block from my house!” I said in surprise.
I went home and immediately googled “spiritual direction – St Thomas More” and an invitation came up. It said, “Are you considering becoming a spiritual director? Come find out more!” The meeting would be a panel of directors from different training programs around the Twin cities and would be held at St Thomas More just a few weeks away.

I attended the meeting and found out about a number of training programs. The one that felt most right to me was the 2-year distance learning program out of Chicago with an organization called Christos Center for Spiritual Formation.

Spiritual Direction has its roots in the Catholic tradition, but this program is inter-denominational and has participants from a wide variety of faith traditions. To be accepted into the program, I had to provide a paper, interview, and character references. Becoming a spiritual director is not something that everyone is called to do and the people running the program do a great job of walking through the discernment process with those who are interested. My schooling will start this coming September. The program includes weekly zoom meetings with my classmates from around the globe, small group spiritual direction training, and lots of reading and writing reflection papers. There is a silent retreat weekend next winter and an in person retreat in the spring.

To say I’m excited about this opportunity is an understatement. It feels like I am coming home to a part of who I have always known I am. Being raised in a charismatic church with very little liturgy, silence, or ritual, this is a part of me that has not been exercised much. Every time I am in a space when we are invited into stillness and listening, I feel at home. I first started meeting with a spiritual director during a time in my life when I wasn’t getting much from normal Sunday morning church. I knew that my faith was changing and I was not the same as I was as a young Christian. I didn’t view church the same way as I used to and I had a lot of questions about how what I had been taught fit into the current world I was living in.

Those early meetings helped me feel less alone. I found someone who could listen and seek to understand who God made me to be. On days when nothing made sense, she reminded me that we all go through seasons in our faith journey and feeling like God is silent or having questions is not a bad thing.

If you are interested in finding out more about spiritual direction, I’d love to talk more. It’s really not as mysterious as it sounds. I will not be “directing” anyone as many people assume because of the title. I will simply be a companion who helps people hear the Holy Spirit for themselves. If you would like to give toward the financial needs of my training, all my birthday money this year will be going to my tuition fund.

      A parable about loss, time, and chance

The skating rink on the corner of Prospect and Main was bustling with families, couples, and students from the nearby college decked out in Christmas sweaters and Santa hats.  A group of carolers dressed like elves sang “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” next to the coffee and bagel cart on the corner.  Shoppers hurried in and out of the Macy’s store, juggling their boxes and bags of gifts, hurrying home to do their wrapping.  It was the day before Christmas and the city was alive with holiday cheer. 

A minivan with a tree tied to the top made its way through the stop light, and onto the freeway.  The family in the car – husband, wife, 10-year-old son, and 2-year-old daughter were headed back to their beautifully decorated home in the suburbs.  They had waited until the last minute to get their tree at the farmers market this year instead of cutting down their own. Life had taken an unexpected turn when the husband was laid off from work.  His wife had not taken the news well and had fallen into anxiety and depression over the past three weeks since receiving the news.  They would both try to pull themselves together for Christmas, for the sake of the kids.  Their gifts would include the things on their lists as well as a surprise – a puppy.   

________

On that same corner sat a homeless man, dressed in patched jeans and carrying a cardboard sign that read: In Crisis. Anything Helps.  The man sat on the bench by the bus stop, watching the families skate, and listening to the sound of the carolers under the softly lit pine trees.  The sun had begun to set, and a damp chill darkened his mood.  “These damn shoes,” he complained.  The hole near the toe of his black boot had grown bigger since yesterday, and his socks were now wet.  Tonight, he would make his way back to the shelter in hopes of a meal of something other than chicken soup.  Maybe turkey or ham for the holiday?  He was hoping for a gift from a stranger to buy a Christmas gift for his daughter.  Was it too much to hope he might see her tomorrow?  His ex-wife had recently remarried and started a blended family with a man who seemed to have done quite well for himself as a banker.  The homeless man thought back on the last few years and the countless times he had broken the trust of his first love.  Addiction had ruined his chances of a normal relationship.  It would be a miracle if she granted him even an hour with his daughter. 

__________

High above the city square, in the 12-story building next to Macy’s, was an apartment where 75-year-old widow, Joan, lived with her cat, Juju.  She didn’t have many decorations, just a one-foot fake Christmas tree with a few candy canes hung from its branches.  Her daughter had a life and family of her own.  She hadn’t visited her in years, and neither reached out to the other.  The last time she had seen her was five years ago at her husband Bill’s funeral.  Joan was quiet and kept to herself.  It’s not that she had a problem with people; she just didn’t always know what to say to strangers.  

“Maybe I’ll make something special for Christmas Eve dinner?” she thought to herself.  Bill’s favorite was roast beef with carrots and mashed potatoes, but it seemed extravagant to make a meal like that for one person.  Instead, Joan ended up walking to Betty’s Cafe on the corner where she ordered her usual – a hot beef commercial.  

“I’ll take a piece of blueberry pie tonight, too,” she told Betty.  Why not?  It’s Christmas”

Betty was always there to take her order and she considered her a friend.  Betty’s Cafe was one of the only places where she was spoken to by name.  

On top of running the restaurant, Betty lived with a mother who was battling dementia.  She was a good soul and a hard worker; the kind of daughter that Joan would have liked to have.  

___________

Also overlooking the skating rink on that busy corner of the city was St Mark’s hospital.  Looking down from her hospital window on the 8th floor was 45-year old Patricia.  It sure was a shame that she would be spending Christmas in a hospital bed.  She wondered which nurse would be working tonight and felt bad they would be giving up their holiday.  Patricia was recently divorced and had relocated to the city for a job.  A few coworkers had taken her out for karaoke one night before she had suffered her stroke.  Those same co-workers had sent her a signed card, a plant, and a box of chocolates.  Other than this kind gesture, she doubted she would hear from them.  Her brother and his wife lived in a nearby suburb.  Upon moving closeby, she assumed she would see or hear from them more often, but had only seen them once in the past year.  It’s a pity she had never been invited to their house.  

___________

Among a group of college students at the skating rink is good looking and happy go lucky, Max.  Finals are finally over and the feeling of relief brings a reason to celebrate. Max is thankful that the countless late nights of studying are over and he can just chill for a few weeks.  He has decided to take up his housemate’s invitation to stay in the city to celebrate Christmas.  His Dad has remarried and lives with the family in the suburbs.  

“Dad told me they are giving their kids a puppy for Christmas this year, and it sounds like they won’t miss me,” he told his roommate as they skated around the rink.  Things had been awkward since Max told his Dad that he was gay and had a boyfriend.  He could tell that his coming out was a big surprise and a disappointment to his dad.  They never had much in common to talk about, and now it would feel even more so.  

___________

These snapshots are all surprisingly related.  Each person’s story is intertwined with the first family – the husband, wife, and two kids.  In that car, carrying the Christmas tree, is the young daughter of the homeless man.  If the man with the sign would have turned his head at the moment the van passed, he may have seen his daughter smiling at him from her car seat.

The widow in the high-rise apartment happens to be the mother of the woman in the van.  They haven’t spoken to one another for five years.  It’s unclear why the daughter doesn’t have an interest in a relationship with her mother.  Maybe there is a misunderstanding between them?  Just five minutes after the van left the neighborhood with the Christmas tree, Joan walked down that same street on her way to eat at the cafe.  If she would have been 5 minutes earlier, she may have had a surprise meeting with her estranged daughter.

The man in the car has a sister he hasn’t seen in a while named Patricia.  She is the one who is spending Christmas in the hospital.  He knows his sister has moved to the city for work, but they haven’t spoken, and he has no idea she is sick.  

The college student, Max, is the man’s son from his first marriage.  Max decided to go skating with his friends very near where his dad was picking out a Christmas tree at the downtown farmers market.  In fact, just an hour before the family was paying for their tree, Max was at the same farmers market buying some candied nuts, which made him think of his dad.  Max had been wishing he felt more comfortable calling his dad just to chat while he was on break from classes and finally had some extra time.

The man in the car, caught up in his own crisis of job loss and his wife’s anxiety, is unaware that his sister is looking down at him from her hospital room, his son skating within a block of the farmers market, and his mother-in-law getting ready to walk the same street to the cafe.  He has forgotten, or maybe doesn’t realize that his sister is lonely, and that his son wishes they could talk.  His wife doesn’t understand that her daughter’s birth father and her own mother would give anything to be granted an hour with the family this Christmas. 

These family members were all within minutes of a chance meeting, yet fate didn’t allow them the opportunity – at least this time.  On another day with another set of circumstances, maybe things would have been different.