The mayor of Colorado Springs, Yemi Mobolade, partnered with community organizations and set a goal for 1,000 neighborhood gatherings in our city in 2024. As of now the city has recorded 453 times neighbors have come together for potlucks, backyard picnics, impromptu sports activities in parks, etc., so we’re well on our way to meeting the goal.
Why? Because connection matters. There is an epidemic of loneliness in our society and our city at the base of Pikes Peak is not immune to this problem. A person can have half a million friends on social media and still feel lonely. Newcomers to town may find it hard to meet anyone. Hard working neighbors come home weary, enter their homes through their garages, and stay inside. There’s no connection.
Studies have proven that feeling alone can lead to mental illness, so our city set out “to encourage neighbors to connect with one another to address social isolation and loneliness.” Each neighborhood event held can then be registered on the city’s website.
The neighborhood we live in had a head start. Every summer our HOA sponsors monthly gatherings in our common area where neighbors can chat and eat together. In June we enjoyed wine and cheese. This month we had an ice cream social. Next month is a dessert gathering. What’s not to like? A few stick-on name tags, some extra camp chairs, and we’ve got ourselves a party.
Could making an effort to connect be the answer not only to loneliness, but to problems like neighborhood disputes and crime as well? Once we know someone, we’re much more likely to work out an issue with a dog or a fence before it escalates, or to keep watch over someone’s house when they are on vacation. As the sense of community grows, so does the feeling that we belong—that we aren’t alone after all. And it starts with connection.
Connection could even help us get through this election season with fewer wounds. Respect for one another’s opinions, and maybe having a second serving of ice cream instead of regaling a neighbor with exactly what we think and why, could go a long way toward closing the huge divide we have in our country now. Since the assassination attempt on former President Trump, both parties have talked about tempering the hateful rhetoric. Maybe they will do so and maybe they won’t, but we can do our part. With God’s help, we can think twice before we speak, use language that is respectful, and love our neighbors as ourselves.
Those who watch The Chosen series get an inside glimpse into the life Jesus shared with His disciples, who didn’t always get along well with one another in case you didn’t know. This disgruntled bunch must have been dismayed when He said as recorded in John 13:34, “A new command I give you.” They had spent their lives trying to live up to all the commandments of the Jewish faith, so they wouldn’t be too excited to hear about a new one. Imagine their surprise when He continued, “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” Love. The best connection of all. And the best way to combat loneliness and isolation in our society.
It’s vacation time again and I’m thinking about all the souvenirs I collected on vacations past. Some I still have and others have traveled elsewhere, but it’s fun to remember them all.
I live in Colorado where we might have crocuses peeking through the snow any day in May. But we can rely on the traditions May brings to assure us that while it may not feel like May outside, it really is the month predicted to follow April showers with flowers.
Cinco de Mayo also lets us know it’s May even if the weather outside doesn’t seem to agree. A Mexican holiday, it’s widely celebrated in the United States, especially in states like ours with large Mexican-American populations. Sometimes celebrated with parades and parties, the date commemorates the Mexican Army’s victory over the French at the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862. It’s a meaningful holiday for many, and a wonderful excuse for everyone to enjoy some tacos and enchiladas.
Do you know the Legend of the Dogwood? It’s just that. A legend. But it does add an element of spiritual significance to our enjoyment of one of the most beautiful trees of spring.
The legend says Jesus recognized the tree’s distress and to ensure it would never be used in such a cruel way again, decreed that from that day forward dogwood trees would be small and slender, often with a twisted trunk.
If you’ve ever looked closely at a dogwood blossom, you know there are four petals forming the shape of the cross. The marks in the center of each flower resemble nail holes. The edge of each petal has a darker tinge, symbolizing the blood shed by Jesus when He died on the cross for our sins. I love that part of the legend, so I think of it whenever I see a dogwood blossom. I add gratitude for my salvation to my enjoyment of the blossom’s natural beauty.
This year I was blessed to arrive in my hometown of Knoxville, Tennessee, just as the dogwood trees were at their peak. My sisters and I traversed as many of the designated “dogwood trails” in town as we could. I was always on the lookout for pink and white dogwoods adjacent to one another because I love the contrast. If a blazing azalea bush was nearby, so much the better!
Friends, it’s Friday, but Sunday’s comin’! Many of you may have heard this classic sermon from Dr. S. M. (Shadrach Meshach) Lockridge (March 7, 1913–April 4, 2000), but there’s no better time to listen to it again. He was the Pastor of Calvary Baptist Church, a prominent African-American congregation in San Diego, CA. Read his powerful words below, then search for “My King” by him on YouTube to hear his awesome, Spirit-filled delivery of this and other sermons.
He’s the highest personality in philosophy. He’s the fundamental doctrine of true theology. He’s the only one qualified to be an all sufficient Saviour.
His life is matchless. His goodness is limitless. His mercy is everlasting. His love never changes. His Word is enough. His grace is sufficient. His reign is righteous. And His yoke is easy. And His burden is light.
Just over twenty-four years ago we were all in a panic over what might happen when the clock struck midnight on December 31, 1999, and we plummeted into a new millennium. Yes, it was two dozen years ago that we were told to store up gallons of water and batteries before January 2000, and everyone everywhere was talking about all the bad things that might happen in Y2K. Guess what? The clock struck 12:01 AM and nothing significant changed.
(Dear Subscribers: Due to a glitch with my website host, many of you weren’t able to open this yesterday. If you already received it, please know I’m doubly grateful!) I grew up in a personal land of plenty. My sisters and I had a mom who tied the sashes on the back of our dresses, took us shopping for new school shoes and handed us a piece of crisp bacon folded in warm buttered toast as we went out the door to school. Our dad was a patriot to the bone. He loved the law and the Lord and always insisted on taking our photo near every American flag we saw when we went on vacation. We ate fresh tomatoes, green beans, corn and strawberries from our garden, and could hop on our horse and go for a ride on a whim. A land of plenty.
These days it’s easy for me to look at all that’s happening in our culture, our country, and the world, and become discouraged. Although I’ll never stop trying to make a difference where I can, the injustices and depravities run so deep that I’ve shifted from being a passionate patriot to a curious observer—wondering why God is allowing all that He is and what He intends to do through it all. But I trust Him. And though my concerns run deep, my gratitude runs deeper.
One morning as I was reading Jeremiah 31:35—He who appoints the sun to shine by day…the Lord Almighty is his name—I glanced up to see a glorious sunrise. Our orange cat was snoozing on my lap, trusting me with her presence. Deeply grateful.
As a child I wouldn’t have imagined growing or buying a pumpkin for any reason other than to turn it into a jack-o-lantern. How we’d look forward to cutting off the top and getting the squishy insides out so we could begin to carve a scary or happily grinning face, secure an old candle stub inside, and bask in the glow! Those pumpkins would sit on the front porch until they shriveled up and looked like toothless old men.