February is not for the faint-hearted, I think.
It is so exceedingly ordinary,
having neither the romance of spring
nor the bravado of winter.
And the ordinary is tough, it seems to me, demanding as it does not only endurance but imagination.
We gather on this late winter morning
in a village of faith,
warmed by those who join us,
saying to one another by our presence here that together we find comfort and even hope in the gray days of February, in the dailiness of our lives.
We have noted the light of the late afternoons and the odd and out-of-sequence melting day.
Join in meditation, in praise of simple stamina, and with faith in renewal.