When problems with short-term memory caused my mother to have less and less interest in television (given her inability to connect the first ten minutes of a program with the next ten minutes, or the last ten minutes), she continued to enjoy watching The Weather Channel. Its messages were short, repetitive and highly visual. Storms were of special interest, seeing as how she spent seventeen years in coastal Florida thinking about hurricanes.

During this morning’s services, we introduced Carl Gladstone, Lynn Hasley and Jeff Nelson to the gathered congregations. All three graduated from Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary in mid-May. All three were commissioned for ministry by Bishop Linda Lee at sessions of the Detroit Annual Conference later in May. All three were appointed to the ministerial staff of First Church, effective July 1, 2004.

On a day in October, coming back from Chicago, I stopped in Grand Rapids for a round of golf, stealing 18 holes from the greedy jaws of winter. On a 200 yard par three, I dropped my tee shot five feet from the pin and proceeded to sink the putt. Since it was the only time I matched or beat par all day, I smiled at my partner, shook hands around the foursome, and thanked the prevailing gods of golf for their uncommon and surprising beneficence.

When I was a kid in grade school, sending and receiving valentines was more about popularity than affection. Getting a bunch meant that you were the king or queen of the class. Getting a few meant that you were the dud or crud of the class. Reading them was fun. But counting them (assuming there were enough to cover your desk and spill onto the floor) was even more fun.