Pondered on the porch this morning sitting in the swing, warm sun on my face, watching the song birds and frisky squirrels. Father Sky had filled his azure blue sky canvas with lots of feather shaped clouds. Looked like angel wing feathers floating down from heaven. The thin and wispy feather clouds didn’t last long but they were so pretty to watch, the feathers just melted together and changed shapes as a cool breeze blew. The wind chimes played a constant symphony of tintinnabulations. All was right in my world.

Today was a picturesque fall day for family fun and ballgames. I sat on the porch, perched in the swing, till time for the Alabama/Auburn college football game. The game was exciting to watch this year. Alabama pulled out a win in the last few minutes. Before the ball game was over I glanced out the window toward where the sun sets each day and the horizon was bathed in a bright orange-red fiery light, looked like flames from a forest fire behind the black silhouettes of the trees. When the cameras panned the football stadium in Auburn you could see the dark red and orange clouds of the sunset on the the skyline at Auburn University.

Next glance, the colors had changed and the sun was sliding down the sky line in a gleaming yellow dancing gown, laying her head down under watermelon red clouds. Father Sky kissed her good night, tucked the clouds around her, and left to wake the moon and pin the stars in the night sky canopy. I looked outside again shortly after and Mother Nature had striped the sky with brush strokes of dark pink and blue and purple between the layers of white clouds. Now the sky looked like stripes of fruit flavored candy canes.

The moon waked himself up tonight and stepped up on his high stage in a full moon costume, his luminious self shining bold behind a thin veil of clouds. Didn’t see any stars, though. They were snuggled under their cloud covers.

Been decorating the dining room tonight for Christmas dinner with my family. It’s several weeks away but I’m so Christmas coo-coo it take some weeks to get the house decorated. There are about 40 of us now, my brothers and their families, and we’ve managed to keep our tradition of a family Christmas dinner together after our parents died. I think these dinners define our family. Henry James said, “Takes an endless amount of history to make even a little tradition.” Our family holiday dinners are a family tradition.

I can only remember two times in my lifetime that we didn’t have a family Christmas dinner. My mother died the day after our Thanksgiving family dinner in November of 1995 and that was the first time we didn’t gather. The second time was 2020 when my family and other family members were suffering with Covid and the dinner was cancelled. I love these gatherings. We have such a good time. We’re all good cooks, too, and everybody leaves happily stuffed, to go plates in one hand, dessert plates in the other hand. Seeing the Christmas wonder in the children’s eyes and the constant question while we eat, “When can we open presents?” just add magic to the day. These dinners help us connect with each other, share our lives, and tell our stories. We’d lose the intimacy of family togetherness without them. I hope our children will continue the tradition.

We all have a life story, an autobiography of our life, and I think God is the author of our story and we are the characters in God’s story. We have series of events and experiences that make us who we are. God is constantly adding chapters to our story and we have to trust him as we face the challenges of this life. Even in our worst times, when we think we can’t go on, he is with us helping carry our burdens. As we prepare for our heavenly life, God and his love are always near. God is the master storyteller. We have to trust that he knows best.

“God is still writing your story. Quit trying to steal the pen. Trust the author.”— Unknown